["[Event happened on 2024-01-01 The user is reading a book]\n<User> II.--The Adventure of the Norwood Builder. \"FROM the point of view of the criminal expert,\" said Mr. Sherlock\nHolmes, \"London has become a singularly uninteresting city since the\ndeath of the late lamented Professor Moriarty.\" \"I can hardly think that you would find many decent citizens to agree\nwith you,\" I answered. \"Well, well, I must not be selfish,\" said he, with a smile, as he pushed\nback his chair from the breakfast-table. \"The community is certainly\nthe gainer, and no one the loser, save the poor out-of-work specialist,\nwhose occupation has gone. With that man in the field one's morning\npaper presented infinite possibilities. Often it was only the smallest\ntrace, Watson, the faintest indication, and yet it was enough to tell me\nthat the great malignant brain was there, as the gentlest tremors of\nthe edges of the web remind one of the foul spider which lurks in the\ncentre. Petty thefts, wanton assaults, purposeless outrage--to the man\nwho held the clue all could be worked into one connected whole. To the\nscientific student of the higher criminal world no capital in Europe\noffered the advantages which London then possessed. But now----\" He\nshrugged his shoulders in humorous deprecation of the state of things\nwhich he had himself done so much to produce. At the time of which I speak Holmes had been back for some months, and\nI, at his request, had sold my practice and returned to share the old\nquarters in Baker Street. A young doctor, named Verner, had purchased my\nsmall Kensington practice, and given with astonishingly little demur the\nhighest price that I ventured to ask--an incident which only explained\nitself some years later when I found that Verner was a distant relation\nof Holmes's, and that it was my friend who had really found the money. Our months of partnership had not been so uneventful as he had stated,\nfor I find, on looking over my notes, that this period includes the case\nof the papers of Ex-President Murillo, and also the shocking affair of\nthe Dutch steamship FRIESLAND, which so nearly cost us both our lives. His cold and proud nature was always averse, however, to anything in the\nshape of public applause, and he bound me in the most stringent terms\nto say no further word of himself, his methods, or his successes--a\nprohibition which, as I have explained, has only now been removed. Mr. Sherlock Holmes was leaning back in his chair after his whimsical\nprotest, and was unfolding his morning paper in a leisurely fashion,\nwhen our attention was arrested by a tremendous ring at the bell,\nfollowed immediately by a hollow drumming sound, as if someone were\nbeating on the outer door with his fist. As it opened there came a\ntumultuous rush into the hall, rapid feet clattered up the stair, and an\ninstant later a wild-eyed and frantic young man, pale, dishevelled, and\npalpitating, burst into the room. He looked from one to the other of us,\nand under our gaze of inquiry he became conscious that some apology was\nneeded for this unceremonious entry. \"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes,\" he cried. \"You mustn't blame me. I am nearly\nmad. Mr. Holmes, I am the unhappy John Hector McFarlane.\" He made the announcement as if the name alone would explain both his\nvisit and its manner; but I could see by my companion's unresponsive\nface that it meant no more to him than to me. \"Have a cigarette, Mr. McFarlane,\" said he, pushing his case across. \"I am sure that with your symptoms my friend Dr. Watson here would\nprescribe a sedative. The weather has been so very warm these last few\ndays. Now, if you feel a little more composed, I should be glad if you\nwould sit down in that chair and tell us very slowly and quietly who you\nare and what it is that you want. You mentioned your name as if I should\nrecognise it, but I assure you that, beyond the obvious facts that\nyou are a bachelor, a solicitor, a Freemason, and an asthmatic, I know\nnothing whatever about you.\" Familiar as I was with my friend's methods, it was not difficult for me\nto follow his deductions, and to observe the untidiness of attire, the\nsheaf of legal papers, the watch-charm, and the breathing which had\nprompted them. Our client, however, stared in amazement. \"Yes, I am all that, Mr. Holmes, and in addition I am the most\nunfortunate man at this moment in London. For Heaven's sake don't\nabandon me, Mr. Holmes! If they come to arrest me before I have finished\nmy story, make them give me time so that I may tell you the whole\ntruth. I could go to gaol happy if I knew that you were working for me\noutside.\" \"Arrest you!\" said Holmes. \"This is really most grati--most interesting. On what charge do you expect to be arrested?\" \"Upon the charge of murdering Mr. Jonas Oldacre, of Lower Norwood.\" My companion's expressive face showed a sympathy which was not, I am\nafraid, entirely unmixed with satisfaction. \"Dear me,\" said he; \"it was only this moment at breakfast that I was\nsaying to my friend, Dr. Watson, that sensational cases had disappeared\nout of our papers.\" Our visitor stretched forward a quivering hand and picked up the DAILY\nTELEGRAPH, which still lay upon Holmes's knee. \"If you had looked at it, sir, you would have seen at a glance what the\nerrand is on which I have come to you this morning. I feel as if my name\nand my misfortune must be in every man's mouth.\" He turned it over to\nexpose the central page. \"Here it is, and with your permission I\nwill read it to you. Listen to this, Mr. Holmes. The head-lines are:\n'Mysterious Affair at Lower Norwood. Disappearance of a Well-known\nBuilder. Suspicion of Murder and Arson. A Clue to the Criminal.' That is\nthe clue which they are already following, Mr. Holmes, and I know that\nit leads infallibly to me. I have been followed from London Bridge\nStation, and I am sure that they are only waiting for the warrant to\narrest me. It will break my mother's heart--it will break her heart!\" He wrung his hands in an agony of apprehension, and swayed backwards and\nforwards in his chair. I looked with interest upon this man, who was accused of being the\nperpetrator of a crime of violence. He was flaxen-haired and handsome\nin a washed-out negative fashion, with frightened blue eyes and a\nclean-shaven face, with a weak, sensitive mouth. His age may have been\nabout twenty-seven; his dress and bearing that of a gentleman. From the\npocket of his light summer overcoat protruded the bundle of endorsed\npapers which proclaimed his profession. \"We must use what time we have,\" said Holmes. \"Watson, would you\nhave the kindness to take the paper and to read me the paragraph in\nquestion?\" Underneath the vigorous head-lines which our client had quoted I read\nthe following suggestive narrative:--\n\n\nLate last night, or early this morning, an incident occurred at Lower\nNorwood which points, it is feared, to a serious crime. Mr. Jonas\nOldacre is a well-known resident of that suburb, where he has carried\non his business as a builder for many years. Mr. Oldacre is a bachelor,\nfifty-two years of age, and lives in Deep Dene House, at the Sydenham\nend of the road of that name. He has had the reputation of being a\nman of eccentric habits, secretive and retiring. For some years he has\npractically withdrawn from the business, in which he is said to have\namassed considerable wealth. A small timber-yard still exists, however,\nat the back of the house, and last night, about twelve o'clock, an alarm\nwas given that one of the stacks was on fire. The engines were soon upon\nthe spot, but the dry wood burned with great fury, and it was impossible\nto arrest the conflagration until the stack had been entirely consumed. Up to this point the incident bore the appearance of an ordinary\naccident, but fresh indications seem to point to serious crime. Surprise\nwas expressed at the absence of the master of the establishment from\nthe scene of the fire, and an inquiry followed, which showed that he had\ndisappeared from the house. An examination of his room revealed that the\nbed had not been slept in, that a safe which stood in it was open,\nthat a number of important papers were scattered about the room, and,\nfinally, that there were signs of a murderous struggle, slight traces\nof blood being found within the room, and an oaken walking-stick, which\nalso showed stains of blood upon the handle.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-01, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-04 The user is reading a book]\n<User> It is known that Mr. Jonas\nOldacre had received a late visitor in his bedroom upon that night, and\nthe stick found has been identified as the property of this person, who\nis a young London solicitor named John Hector McFarlane, junior partner\nof Graham and McFarlane, of 426, Gresham Buildings, E.C. The police\nbelieve that they have evidence in their possession which supplies\na very convincing motive for the crime, and altogether it cannot be\ndoubted that sensational developments will follow. LATER.--It is rumoured as we go to press that Mr. John Hector McFarlane\nhas actually been arrested on the charge of the murder of Mr. Jonas\nOldacre. It is at least certain that a warrant has been issued. There\nhave been further and sinister developments in the investigation at\nNorwood. Besides the signs of a struggle in the room of the unfortunate\nbuilder it is now known that the French windows of his bedroom (which is\non the ground floor) were found to be open, that there were marks as\nif some bulky object had been dragged across to the wood-pile, and,\nfinally, it is asserted that charred remains have been found among the\ncharcoal ashes of the fire. The police theory is that a most sensational\ncrime has been committed, that the victim was clubbed to death in his\nown bedroom, his papers rifled, and his dead body dragged across to\nthe wood-stack, which was then ignited so as to hide all traces of the\ncrime. The conduct of the criminal investigation has been left in\nthe experienced hands of Inspector Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, who is\nfollowing up the clues with his accustomed energy and sagacity. Sherlock Holmes listened with closed eyes and finger-tips together to\nthis remarkable account. \"The case has certainly some points of interest,\" said he, in his\nlanguid fashion. \"May I ask, in the first place, Mr. McFarlane, how\nit is that you are still at liberty, since there appears to be enough\nevidence to justify your arrest?\" \"I live at Torrington Lodge, Blackheath, with my parents, Mr. Holmes;\nbut last night, having to do business very late with Mr. Jonas Oldacre,\nI stayed at an hotel in Norwood, and came to my business from there. I\nknew nothing of this affair until I was in the train, when I read what\nyou have just heard. I at once saw the horrible danger of my position,\nand I hurried to put the case into your hands. I have no doubt that I\nshould have been arrested either at my City office or at my home. A\nman followed me from London Bridge Station, and I have no doubt--Great\nHeaven, what is that?\" It was a clang of the bell, followed instantly by heavy steps upon the\nstair. A moment later our old friend Lestrade appeared in the doorway. Over his shoulder I caught a glimpse of one or two uniformed policemen\noutside. \"Mr. John Hector McFarlane?\" said Lestrade. Our unfortunate client rose with a ghastly face. \"I arrest you for the wilful murder of Mr. Jonas Oldacre, of Lower\nNorwood.\" McFarlane turned to us with a gesture of despair, and sank into his\nchair once more like one who is crushed. \"One moment, Lestrade,\" said Holmes. \"Half an hour more or less can make\nno difference to you, and the gentleman was about to give us an account\nof this very interesting affair, which might aid us in clearing it up.\" \"I think there will be no difficulty in clearing it up,\" said Lestrade,\ngrimly. \"None the less, with your permission, I should be much interested to\nhear his account.\" \"Well, Mr. Holmes, it is difficult for me to refuse you anything, for\nyou have been of use to the force once or twice in the past, and we owe\nyou a good turn at Scotland Yard,\" said Lestrade. \"At the same time I\nmust remain with my prisoner, and I am bound to warn him that anything\nhe may say will appear in evidence against him.\" \"I wish nothing better,\" said our client. \"All I ask is that you should\nhear and recognise the absolute truth.\" Lestrade looked at his watch. \"I'll give you half an hour,\" said he. \"I must explain first,\" said McFarlane, \"that I knew nothing of Mr.\nJonas Oldacre. His name was familiar to me, for many years ago my\nparents were acquainted with him, but they drifted apart. I was very\nmuch surprised, therefore, when yesterday, about three o'clock in the\nafternoon, he walked into my office in the City. But I was still more\nastonished when he told me the object of his visit. He had in his hand\nseveral sheets of a note-book, covered with scribbled writing--here they\nare--and he laid them on my table. \"'Here is my will,' said he. 'I want you, Mr. McFarlane, to cast it into\nproper legal shape. I will sit here while you do so.' \"I set myself to copy it, and you can imagine my astonishment when I\nfound that, with some reservations, he had left all his property to me. He was a strange little, ferret-like man, with white eyelashes, and\nwhen I looked up at him I found his keen grey eyes fixed upon me with\nan amused expression. I could hardly believe my own senses as I read the\nterms of the will; but he explained that he was a bachelor with hardly\nany living relation, that he had known my parents in his youth, and that\nhe had always heard of me as a very deserving young man, and was assured\nthat his money would be in worthy hands. Of course, I could only stammer\nout my thanks. The will was duly finished, signed, and witnessed by\nmy clerk. This is it on the blue paper, and these slips, as I have\nexplained, are the rough draft. Mr. Jonas Oldacre then informed me\nthat there were a number of documents--building leases, title-deeds,\nmortgages, scrip, and so forth--which it was necessary that I should see\nand understand. He said that his mind would not be easy until the whole\nthing was settled, and he begged me to come out to his house at\nNorwood that night, bringing the will with me, and to arrange matters. 'Remember, my boy, not one word to your parents about the affair until\neverything is settled. We will keep it as a little surprise for\nthem.' He was very insistent upon this point, and made me promise it\nfaithfully. \"You can imagine, Mr. Holmes, that I was not in a humour to refuse him\nanything that he might ask. He was my benefactor, and all my desire was\nto carry out his wishes in every particular. I sent a telegram home,\ntherefore, to say that I had important business on hand, and that it was\nimpossible for me to say how late I might be. Mr. Oldacre had told me\nthat he would like me to have supper with him at nine, as he might not\nbe home before that hour. I had some difficulty in finding his house,\nhowever, and it was nearly half-past before I reached it. I found him--\"\n\n\"One moment!\" said Holmes. \"Who opened the door?\" \"A middle-aged woman, who was, I suppose, his housekeeper.\" \"And it was she, I presume, who mentioned your name?\" \"Exactly,\" said McFarlane. \"Pray proceed.\" McFarlane wiped his damp brow and then continued his narrative:--\n\n\"I was shown by this woman into a sitting-room, where a frugal supper\nwas laid out. Afterwards Mr. Jonas Oldacre led me into his bedroom, in\nwhich there stood a heavy safe. This he opened and took out a mass of\ndocuments, which we went over together. It was between eleven and twelve\nwhen we finished. He remarked that we must not disturb the housekeeper. He showed me out through his own French window, which had been open all\nthis time.\" \"Was the blind down?\" asked Holmes. \"I will not be sure, but I believe that it was only half down. Yes, I\nremember how he pulled it up in order to swing open the window. I could\nnot find my stick, and he said, 'Never mind, my boy; I shall see a good\ndeal of you now, I hope, and I will keep your stick until you come back\nto claim it.' I left him there, the safe open, and the papers made up\nin packets upon the table. It was so late that I could not get back to\nBlackheath, so I spent the night at the Anerley Arms, and I knew nothing\nmore until I read of this horrible affair in the morning.\" \"Anything more that you would like to ask, Mr. Holmes?\" said Lestrade,\nwhose eyebrows had gone up once or twice during this remarkable\nexplanation. \"Not until I have been to Blackheath.\" \"You mean to Norwood,\" said Lestrade.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-04, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-07 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"Oh, yes; no doubt that is what I must have meant,\" said Holmes, with\nhis enigmatical smile. Lestrade had learned by more experiences than he\nwould care to acknowledge that that razor-like brain could cut through\nthat which was impenetrable to him. I saw him look curiously at my\ncompanion. \"I think I should like to have a word with you presently, Mr. Sherlock\nHolmes,\" said he. \"Now, Mr. McFarlane, two of my constables are at the\ndoor and there is a four-wheeler waiting.\" The wretched young man\narose, and with a last beseeching glance at us walked from the room. The\nofficers conducted him to the cab, but Lestrade remained. Holmes had picked up the pages which formed the rough draft of the will,\nand was looking at them with the keenest interest upon his face. \"There are some points about that document, Lestrade, are there not?\" said he, pushing them over. The official looked at them with a puzzled expression. \"I can read the first few lines, and these in the middle of the second\npage, and one or two at the end. Those are as clear as print,\" said\nhe; \"but the writing in between is very bad, and there are three places\nwhere I cannot read it at all.\" \"What do you make of that?\" said Holmes. \"Well, what do YOU make of it?\" \"That it was written in a train; the good writing represents stations,\nthe bad writing movement, and the very bad writing passing over points. A scientific expert would pronounce at once that this was drawn up on a\nsuburban line, since nowhere save in the immediate vicinity of a great\ncity could there be so quick a succession of points. Granting that his\nwhole journey was occupied in drawing up the will, then the train was an\nexpress, only stopping once between Norwood and London Bridge.\" Lestrade began to laugh. \"You are too many for me when you begin to get on your theories, Mr.\nHolmes,\" said he. \"How does this bear on the case?\" \"Well, it corroborates the young man's story to the extent that the\nwill was drawn up by Jonas Oldacre in his journey yesterday. It is\ncurious--is it not?--that a man should draw up so important a document\nin so haphazard a fashion. It suggests that he did not think it was\ngoing to be of much practical importance. If a man drew up a will which\nhe did not intend ever to be effective he might do it so.\" \"Well, he drew up his own death-warrant at the same time,\" said\nLestrade. \"Oh, you think so?\" \"Don't you?\" \"Well, it is quite possible; but the case is not clear to me yet.\" \"Not clear? Well, if that isn't clear, what COULD be clear? Here is a\nyoung man who learns suddenly that if a certain older man dies he will\nsucceed to a fortune. What does he do? He says nothing to anyone, but\nhe arranges that he shall go out on some pretext to see his client that\nnight; he waits until the only other person in the house is in bed, and\nthen in the solitude of a man's room he murders him, burns his body in\nthe wood-pile, and departs to a neighbouring hotel. The blood-stains in\nthe room and also on the stick are very slight. It is probable that he\nimagined his crime to be a bloodless one, and hoped that if the\nbody were consumed it would hide all traces of the method of his\ndeath--traces which for some reason must have pointed to him. Is all\nthis not obvious?\" \"It strikes me, my good Lestrade, as being just a trifle too obvious,\"\nsaid Holmes. \"You do not add imagination to your other great qualities;\nbut if you could for one moment put yourself in the place of this young\nman, would you choose the very night after the will had been made to\ncommit your crime? Would it not seem dangerous to you to make so very\nclose a relation between the two incidents? Again, would you choose an\noccasion when you are known to be in the house, when a servant has let\nyou in? And, finally, would you take the great pains to conceal the\nbody and yet leave your own stick as a sign that you were the criminal? Confess, Lestrade, that all this is very unlikely.\" \"As to the stick, Mr. Holmes, you know as well as I do that a criminal\nis often flurried and does things which a cool man would avoid. He was\nvery likely afraid to go back to the room. Give me another theory that\nwould fit the facts.\" \"I could very easily give you half-a-dozen,\" said Holmes. \"Here, for\nexample, is a very possible and even probable one. I make you a free\npresent of it. The older man is showing documents which are of evident\nvalue. A passing tramp sees them through the window, the blind of which\nis only half down. Exit the solicitor. Enter the tramp! He seizes a\nstick, which he observes there, kills Oldacre, and departs after burning\nthe body.\" \"Why should the tramp burn the body?\" \"For the matter of that why should McFarlane?\" \"To hide some evidence.\" \"Possibly the tramp wanted to hide that any murder at all had been\ncommitted.\" \"And why did the tramp take nothing?\" \"Because they were papers that he could not negotiate.\" Lestrade shook his head, though it seemed to me that his manner was less\nabsolutely assured than before. \"Well, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, you may look for your tramp, and while you\nare finding him we will hold on to our man. The future will show which\nis right. Just notice this point, Mr. Holmes: that so far as we know\nnone of the papers were removed, and that the prisoner is the one man in\nthe world who had no reason for removing them, since he was heir-at-law\nand would come into them in any case.\" My friend seemed struck by this remark. \"I don't mean to deny that the evidence is in some ways very strongly\nin favour of your theory,\" said he. \"I only wish to point out that there\nare other theories possible. As you say, the future will decide. Good\nmorning! I dare say that in the course of the day I shall drop in at\nNorwood and see how you are getting on.\" When the detective departed my friend rose and made his preparations\nfor the day's work with the alert air of a man who has a congenial task\nbefore him. \"My first movement, Watson,\" said he, as he bustled into his frock-coat,\n\"must, as I said, be in the direction of Blackheath.\" \"And why not Norwood?\" \"Because we have in this case one singular incident coming close to the\nheels of another singular incident. The police are making the mistake of\nconcentrating their attention upon the second, because it happens to\nbe the one which is actually criminal. But it is evident to me that the\nlogical way to approach the case is to begin by trying to throw some\nlight upon the first incident--the curious will, so suddenly made, and\nto so unexpected an heir. It may do something to simplify what followed. No, my dear fellow, I don't think you can help me. There is no prospect\nof danger, or I should not dream of stirring out without you. I trust\nthat when I see you in the evening I will be able to report that I have\nbeen able to do something for this unfortunate youngster who has thrown\nhimself upon my protection.\" It was late when my friend returned, and I could see by a glance at his\nhaggard and anxious face that the high hopes with which he had started\nhad not been fulfilled. For an hour he droned away upon his violin,\nendeavouring to soothe his own ruffled spirits. At last he flung down\nthe instrument and plunged into a detailed account of his misadventures. \"It's all going wrong, Watson--all as wrong as it can go. I kept a bold\nface before Lestrade, but, upon my soul, I believe that for once the\nfellow is on the right track and we are on the wrong. All my instincts\nare one way and all the facts are the other, and I much fear that\nBritish juries have not yet attained that pitch of intelligence when\nthey will give the preference to my theories over Lestrade's facts.\" \"Did you go to Blackheath?\" \"Yes, Watson, I went there, and I found very quickly that the late\nlamented Oldacre was a pretty considerable black-guard. The father was\naway in search of his son. The mother was at home--a little, fluffy,\nblue-eyed person, in a tremor of fear and indignation. Of course, she\nwould not admit even the possibility of his guilt. But she would not\nexpress either surprise or regret over the fate of Oldacre.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-07, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-08 The user is reading a book]\n<User> On\nthe contrary, she spoke of him with such bitterness that she was\nunconsciously considerably strengthening the case of the police, for,\nof course, if her son had heard her speak of the man in this fashion it\nwould predispose him towards hatred and violence. 'He was more like a\nmalignant and cunning ape than a human being,' said she, 'and he always\nwas, ever since he was a young man.' \"'You knew him at that time?' said I. \"'Yes, I knew him well; in fact, he was an old suitor of mine. Thank\nHeaven that I had the sense to turn away from him and to marry a better,\nif a poorer, man. I was engaged to him, Mr. Holmes, when I heard a\nshocking story of how he had turned a cat loose in an aviary, and I was\nso horrified at his brutal cruelty that I would have nothing more to\ndo with him.' She rummaged in a bureau, and presently she produced a\nphotograph of a woman, shamefully defaced and mutilated with a knife. 'That is my own photograph,' she said. 'He sent it to me in that state,\nwith his curse, upon my wedding morning.' \"'Well,' said I, 'at least he has forgiven you now, since he has left\nall his property to your son.' \"'Neither my son nor I want anything from Jonas Oldacre, dead or alive,'\nshe cried, with a proper spirit. 'There is a God in Heaven, Mr. Holmes,\nand that same God who has punished that wicked man will show in His own\ngood time that my son's hands are guiltless of his blood.' \"Well, I tried one or two leads, but could get at nothing which would\nhelp our hypothesis, and several points which would make against it. I\ngave it up at last and off I went to Norwood. \"This place, Deep Dene House, is a big modern villa of staring brick,\nstanding back in its own grounds, with a laurel-clumped lawn in front\nof it. To the right and some distance back from the road was the\ntimber-yard which had been the scene of the fire. Here's a rough plan on\na leaf of my note-book. This window on the left is the one which opens\ninto Oldacre's room. You can look into it from the road, you see. That\nis about the only bit of consolation I have had to-day. Lestrade was\nnot there, but his head constable did the honours. They had just made a\ngreat treasure-trove. They had spent the morning raking among the ashes\nof the burned wood-pile, and besides the charred organic remains they\nhad secured several discoloured metal discs. I examined them with\ncare, and there was no doubt that they were trouser buttons. I even\ndistinguished that one of them was marked with the name of 'Hyams,' who\nwas Oldacre's tailor. I then worked the lawn very carefully for signs\nand traces, but this drought has made everything as hard as iron. Nothing was to be seen save that some body or bundle had been dragged\nthrough a low privet hedge which is in a line with the wood-pile. All\nthat, of course, fits in with the official theory. I crawled about the\nlawn with an August sun on my back, but I got up at the end of an hour\nno wiser than before. \"Well, after this fiasco I went into the bedroom and examined that also. The blood-stains were very slight, mere smears and discolorations, but\nundoubtedly fresh. The stick had been removed, but there also the marks\nwere slight. There is no doubt about the stick belonging to our client. He admits it. Footmarks of both men could be made out on the carpet,\nbut none of any third person, which again is a trick for the other\nside. They were piling up their score all the time and we were at a\nstandstill. \"Only one little gleam of hope did I get--and yet it amounted to\nnothing. I examined the contents of the safe, most of which had been\ntaken out and left on the table. The papers had been made up into sealed\nenvelopes, one or two of which had been opened by the police. They were\nnot, so far as I could judge, of any great value, nor did the bank-book\nshow that Mr. Oldacre was in such very affluent circumstances. But it\nseemed to me that all the papers were not there. There were allusions to\nsome deeds--possibly the more valuable--which I could not find. This, of\ncourse, if we could definitely prove it, would turn Lestrade's argument\nagainst himself, for who would steal a thing if he knew that he would\nshortly inherit it? \"Finally, having drawn every other cover and picked up no scent, I tried\nmy luck with the housekeeper. Mrs. Lexington is her name, a little,\ndark, silent person, with suspicious and sidelong eyes. She could tell\nus something if she would--I am convinced of it. But she was as close as\nwax. Yes, she had let Mr. McFarlane in at half-past nine. She wished\nher hand had withered before she had done so. She had gone to bed at\nhalf-past ten. Her room was at the other end of the house, and she could\nhear nothing of what passed. Mr. McFarlane had left his hat, and to the\nbest of her belief his stick, in the hall. She had been awakened by the\nalarm of fire. Her poor, dear master had certainly been murdered. Had he\nany enemies? Well, every man had enemies, but Mr. Oldacre kept himself\nvery much to himself, and only met people in the way of business. She\nhad seen the buttons, and was sure that they belonged to the clothes\nwhich he had worn last night. The wood-pile was very dry, for it had not\nrained for a month. It burned like tinder, and by the time she reached\nthe spot nothing could be seen but flames. She and all the firemen\nsmelled the burned flesh from inside it. She knew nothing of the papers,\nnor of Mr. Oldacre's private affairs. \"So, my dear Watson, there's my report of a failure. And yet--and\nyet--\"--he clenched his thin hands in a paroxysm of conviction--\"I KNOW\nit's all wrong. I feel it in my bones. There is something that has\nnot come out, and that housekeeper knows it. There was a sort of sulky\ndefiance in her eyes, which only goes with guilty knowledge. However,\nthere's no good talking any more about it, Watson; but unless some lucky\nchance comes our way I fear that the Norwood Disappearance Case will not\nfigure in that chronicle of our successes which I foresee that a patient\npublic will sooner or later have to endure.\" \"Surely,\" said I, \"the man's appearance would go far with any jury?\" \"That is a dangerous argument, my dear Watson. You remember that\nterrible murderer, Bert Stevens, who wanted us to get him off in '87? Was there ever a more mild-mannered, Sunday-school young man?\" \"It is true.\" \"Unless we succeed in establishing an alternative theory this man is\nlost. You can hardly find a flaw in the case which can now be presented\nagainst him, and all further investigation has served to strengthen it. By the way, there is one curious little point about those papers which\nmay serve us as the starting-point for an inquiry. On looking over the\nbank-book I found that the low state of the balance was principally due\nto large cheques which have been made out during the last year to Mr.\nCornelius. I confess that I should be interested to know who this\nMr. Cornelius may be with whom a retired builder has such very large\ntransactions. Is it possible that he has had a hand in the affair? Cornelius might be a broker, but we have found no scrip to correspond\nwith these large payments. Failing any other indication my researches\nmust now take the direction of an inquiry at the bank for the gentleman\nwho has cashed these cheques. But I fear, my dear fellow, that our\ncase will end ingloriously by Lestrade hanging our client, which will\ncertainly be a triumph for Scotland Yard.\" I do not know how far Sherlock Holmes took any sleep that night, but\nwhen I came down to breakfast I found him pale and harassed, his bright\neyes the brighter for the dark shadows round them. The carpet round his\nchair was littered with cigarette-ends and with the early editions of\nthe morning papers. An open telegram lay upon the table. \"What do you think of this, Watson?\" he asked, tossing it across. It was from Norwood, and ran as follows:--\n\n     \"IMPORTANT FRESH EVIDENCE TO HAND. MCFARLANE'S GUILT\n     DEFINITELY ESTABLISHED. ADVISE YOU TO ABANDON CASE. --LESTRADE.\" \"This sounds serious,\" said I.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-08, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-10 The user is reading a book]\n<User> \"It is Lestrade's little cock-a-doodle of victory,\" Holmes answered,\nwith a bitter smile. \"And yet it may be premature to abandon the case. After all, important fresh evidence is a two-edged thing, and may\npossibly cut in a very different direction to that which Lestrade\nimagines. Take your breakfast, Watson, and we will go out together and\nsee what we can do. I feel as if I shall need your company and your\nmoral support to-day.\" My friend had no breakfast himself, for it was one of his peculiarities\nthat in his more intense moments he would permit himself no food, and I\nhave known him presume upon his iron strength until he has fainted from\npure inanition. \"At present I cannot spare energy and nerve force for\ndigestion,\" he would say in answer to my medical remonstrances. I was\nnot surprised, therefore, when this morning he left his untouched meal\nbehind him and started with me for Norwood. A crowd of morbid sightseers\nwere still gathered round Deep Dene House, which was just such a\nsuburban villa as I had pictured. Within the gates Lestrade met us, his\nface flushed with victory, his manner grossly triumphant. \"Well, Mr. Holmes, have you proved us to be wrong yet? Have you found\nyour tramp?\" he cried. \"I have formed no conclusion whatever,\" my companion answered. \"But we formed ours yesterday, and now it proves to be correct; so you\nmust acknowledge that we have been a little in front of you this time,\nMr. Holmes.\" \"You certainly have the air of something unusual having occurred,\" said\nHolmes. Lestrade laughed loudly. \"You don't like being beaten any more than the rest of us do,\" said he. \"A man can't expect always to have it his own way, can he, Dr. Watson? Step this way, if you please, gentlemen, and I think I can convince you\nonce for all that it was John McFarlane who did this crime.\" He led us through the passage and out into a dark hall beyond. \"This is where young McFarlane must have come out to get his hat\nafter the crime was done,\" said he. \"Now, look at this.\" With dramatic\nsuddenness he struck a match and by its light exposed a stain of blood\nupon the whitewashed wall. As he held the match nearer I saw that it was\nmore than a stain. It was the well-marked print of a thumb. \"Look at that with your magnifying glass, Mr. Holmes.\" \"Yes, I am doing so.\" \"You are aware that no two thumb marks are alike?\" \"I have heard something of the kind.\" \"Well, then, will you please compare that print with this wax impression\nof young McFarlane's right thumb, taken by my orders this morning?\" As he held the waxen print close to the blood-stain it did not take\na magnifying glass to see that the two were undoubtedly from the same\nthumb. It was evident to me that our unfortunate client was lost. \"That is final,\" said Lestrade. \"Yes, that is final,\" I involuntarily echoed. \"It is final,\" said Holmes. Something in his tone caught my ear, and I turned to look at him. An\nextraordinary change had come over his face. It was writhing with inward\nmerriment. His two eyes were shining like stars. It seemed to me that\nhe was making desperate efforts to restrain a convulsive attack of\nlaughter. \"Dear me! Dear me!\" he said at last. \"Well, now, who would have thought\nit? And how deceptive appearances may be, to be sure! Such a nice young\nman to look at! It is a lesson to us not to trust our own judgment, is\nit not, Lestrade?\" \"Yes, some of us are a little too much inclined to be cocksure, Mr.\nHolmes,\" said Lestrade. The man's insolence was maddening, but we could\nnot resent it. \"What a providential thing that this young man should press his right\nthumb against the wall in taking his hat from the peg! Such a very\nnatural action, too, if you come to think of it.\" Holmes was outwardly\ncalm, but his whole body gave a wriggle of suppressed excitement as he\nspoke. \"By the way, Lestrade, who made this remarkable discovery?\" \"It was the housekeeper, Mrs. Lexington, who drew the night constable's\nattention to it.\" \"Where was the night constable?\" \"He remained on guard in the bedroom where the crime was committed, so\nas to see that nothing was touched.\" \"But why didn't the police see this mark yesterday?\" \"Well, we had no particular reason to make a careful examination of the\nhall. Besides, it's not in a very prominent place, as you see.\" \"No, no, of course not. I suppose there is no doubt that the mark was\nthere yesterday?\" Lestrade looked at Holmes as if he thought he was going out of his mind. I confess that I was myself surprised both at his hilarious manner and\nat his rather wild observation. \"I don't know whether you think that McFarlane came out of gaol in the\ndead of the night in order to strengthen the evidence against himself,\"\nsaid Lestrade. \"I leave it to any expert in the world whether that is\nnot the mark of his thumb.\" \"It is unquestionably the mark of his thumb.\" \"There, that's enough,\" said Lestrade. \"I am a practical man, Mr.\nHolmes, and when I have got my evidence I come to my conclusions. If\nyou have anything to say you will find me writing my report in the\nsitting-room.\" Holmes had recovered his equanimity, though I still seemed to detect\ngleams of amusement in his expression. \"Dear me, this is a very sad development, Watson, is it not?\" said he. \"And yet there are singular points about it which hold out some hopes\nfor our client.\" \"I am delighted to hear it,\" said I, heartily. \"I was afraid it was all\nup with him.\" \"I would hardly go so far as to say that, my dear Watson. The fact is\nthat there is one really serious flaw in this evidence to which our\nfriend attaches so much importance.\" \"Indeed, Holmes! What is it?\" \"Only this: that I KNOW that that mark was not there when I examined the\nhall yesterday. And now, Watson, let us have a little stroll round in\nthe sunshine.\" With a confused brain, but with a heart into which some warmth of hope\nwas returning, I accompanied my friend in a walk round the garden. Holmes took each face of the house in turn and examined it with great\ninterest. He then led the way inside and went over the whole building\nfrom basement to attics. Most of the rooms were unfurnished, but\nnone the less Holmes inspected them all minutely. Finally, on the top\ncorridor, which ran outside three untenanted bedrooms, he again was\nseized with a spasm of merriment. \"There are really some very unique features about this case, Watson,\"\nsaid he. \"I think it is time now that we took our friend Lestrade into\nour confidence. He has had his little smile at our expense, and perhaps\nwe may do as much by him if my reading of this problem proves to be\ncorrect. Yes, yes; I think I see how we should approach it.\" The Scotland Yard inspector was still writing in the parlour when Holmes\ninterrupted him. \"I understood that you were writing a report of this case,\" said he. \"So I am.\" \"Don't you think it may be a little premature? I can't help thinking\nthat your evidence is not complete.\" Lestrade knew my friend too well to disregard his words. He laid down\nhis pen and looked curiously at him. \"What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?\" \"Only that there is an important witness whom you have not seen.\" \"Can you produce him?\" \"I think I can.\" \"Then do so.\" \"I will do my best. How many constables have you?\" \"There are three within call.\" \"Excellent!\" said Holmes. \"May I ask if they are all large, able-bodied\nmen with powerful voices?\" \"I have no doubt they are, though I fail to see what their voices have\nto do with it.\" \"Perhaps I can help you to see that and one or two other things as\nwell,\" said Holmes. \"Kindly summon your men, and I will try.\" Five minutes later three policemen had assembled in the hall. \"In the outhouse you will find a considerable quantity of straw,\" said\nHolmes. \"I will ask you to carry in two bundles of it. I think it will\nbe of the greatest assistance in producing the witness whom I require. Thank you very much. I believe you have some matches in your pocket,\nWatson. Now, Mr. Lestrade, I will ask you all to accompany me to the top\nlanding.\"\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-10, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-11 The user is reading a book]\n<User> As I have said, there was a broad corridor there, which ran outside\nthree empty bedrooms. At one end of the corridor we were all marshalled\nby Sherlock Holmes, the constables grinning and Lestrade staring at\nmy friend with amazement, expectation, and derision chasing each other\nacross his features. Holmes stood before us with the air of a conjurer\nwho is performing a trick. \"Would you kindly send one of your constables for two buckets of water? Put the straw on the floor here, free from the wall on either side. Now\nI think that we are all ready.\" Lestrade's face had begun to grow red and angry. \"I don't know whether you are playing a game with us, Mr. Sherlock\nHolmes,\" said he. \"If you know anything, you can surely say it without\nall this tomfoolery.\" \"I assure you, my good Lestrade, that I have an excellent reason for\neverything that I do. You may possibly remember that you chaffed me a\nlittle some hours ago, when the sun seemed on your side of the hedge, so\nyou must not grudge me a little pomp and ceremony now. Might I ask you,\nWatson, to open that window, and then to put a match to the edge of the\nstraw?\" I did so, and, driven by the draught, a coil of grey smoke swirled down\nthe corridor, while the dry straw crackled and flamed. \"Now we must see if we can find this witness for you, Lestrade. Might I\nask you all to join in the cry of 'Fire!'? Now, then; one, two, three--\"\n\n\"Fire!\" we all yelled. \"Thank you. I will trouble you once again.\" \"Fire!\" \"Just once more, gentlemen, and all together.\" \"Fire!\" The shout must have rung over Norwood. It had hardly died away when an amazing thing happened. A door suddenly\nflew open out of what appeared to be solid wall at the end of the\ncorridor, and a little, wizened man darted out of it, like a rabbit out\nof its burrow. \"Capital!\" said Holmes, calmly. \"Watson, a bucket of water over the\nstraw. That will do! Lestrade, allow me to present you with your\nprincipal missing witness, Mr. Jonas Oldacre.\" The detective stared at the new-comer with blank amazement. The latter\nwas blinking in the bright light of the corridor, and peering at us\nand at the smouldering fire. It was an odious face--crafty, vicious,\nmalignant, with shifty, light-grey eyes and white eyelashes. \"What's this, then?\" said Lestrade at last. \"What have you been doing\nall this time, eh?\" Oldacre gave an uneasy laugh, shrinking back from the furious red face\nof the angry detective. \"I have done no harm.\" \"No harm? You have done your best to get an innocent man hanged. If it\nwasn't for this gentleman here, I am not sure that you would not have\nsucceeded.\" The wretched creature began to whimper. \"I am sure, sir, it was only my practical joke.\" \"Oh! a joke, was it? You won't find the laugh on your side, I promise\nyou. Take him down and keep him in the sitting-room until I come. Mr.\nHolmes,\" he continued, when they had gone, \"I could not speak before the\nconstables, but I don't mind saying, in the presence of Dr. Watson,\nthat this is the brightest thing that you have done yet, though it is a\nmystery to me how you did it. You have saved an innocent man's life,\nand you have prevented a very grave scandal, which would have ruined my\nreputation in the Force.\" Holmes smiled and clapped Lestrade upon the shoulder. \"Instead of being ruined, my good sir, you will find that your\nreputation has been enormously enhanced. Just make a few alterations in\nthat report which you were writing, and they will understand how hard it\nis to throw dust in the eyes of Inspector Lestrade.\" \"And you don't want your name to appear?\" \"Not at all. The work is its own reward. Perhaps I shall get the credit\nalso at some distant day when I permit my zealous historian to lay out\nhis foolscap once more--eh, Watson? Well, now, let us see where this rat\nhas been lurking.\" A lath-and-plaster partition had been run across the passage six feet\nfrom the end, with a door cunningly concealed in it. It was lit within\nby slits under the eaves. A few articles of furniture and a supply of\nfood and water were within, together with a number of books and papers. \"There's the advantage of being a builder,\" said Holmes, as we came\nout. \"He was able to fix up his own little hiding-place without any\nconfederate--save, of course, that precious housekeeper of his, whom I\nshould lose no time in adding to your bag, Lestrade.\" \"I'll take your advice. But how did you know of this place, Mr. Holmes?\" \"I made up my mind that the fellow was in hiding in the house. When I\npaced one corridor and found it six feet shorter than the corresponding\none below, it was pretty clear where he was. I thought he had not the\nnerve to lie quiet before an alarm of fire. We could, of course, have\ngone in and taken him, but it amused me to make him reveal himself;\nbesides, I owed you a little mystification, Lestrade, for your chaff in\nthe morning.\" \"Well, sir, you certainly got equal with me on that. But how in the\nworld did you know that he was in the house at all?\" \"The thumb-mark, Lestrade. You said it was final; and so it was, in a\nvery different sense. I knew it had not been there the day before. I pay\na good deal of attention to matters of detail, as you may have observed,\nand I had examined the hall and was sure that the wall was clear. Therefore, it had been put on during the night.\" \"But how?\" \"Very simply. When those packets were sealed up, Jonas Oldacre got\nMcFarlane to secure one of the seals by putting his thumb upon the soft\nwax. It would be done so quickly and so naturally that I dare say the\nyoung man himself has no recollection of it. Very likely it just so\nhappened, and Oldacre had himself no notion of the use he would put it\nto. Brooding over the case in that den of his, it suddenly struck him\nwhat absolutely damning evidence he could make against McFarlane by\nusing that thumb-mark. It was the simplest thing in the world for him to\ntake a wax impression from the seal, to moisten it in as much blood as\nhe could get from a pin-prick, and to put the mark upon the wall during\nthe night, either with his own hand or with that of his housekeeper. If you examine among those documents which he took with him into\nhis retreat I will lay you a wager that you find the seal with the\nthumb-mark upon it.\" \"Wonderful!\" said Lestrade. \"Wonderful! It's all as clear as crystal, as\nyou put it. But what is the object of this deep deception, Mr. Holmes?\" It was amusing to me to see how the detective's overbearing manner had\nchanged suddenly to that of a child asking questions of its teacher. \"Well, I don't think that is very hard to explain. A very deep,\nmalicious, vindictive person is the gentleman who is now awaiting us\ndownstairs. You know that he was once refused by McFarlane's mother? You don't! I told you that you should go to Blackheath first and Norwood\nafterwards. Well, this injury, as he would consider it, has rankled\nin his wicked, scheming brain, and all his life he has longed for\nvengeance, but never seen his chance. During the last year or two things\nhave gone against him--secret speculation, I think--and he finds himself\nin a bad way. He determines to swindle his creditors, and for this\npurpose he pays large cheques to a certain Mr. Cornelius, who is, I\nimagine, himself under another name. I have not traced these cheques\nyet, but I have no doubt that they were banked under that name at some\nprovincial town where Oldacre from time to time led a double existence. He intended to change his name altogether, draw this money, and vanish,\nstarting life again elsewhere.\" \"Well, that's likely enough.\" \"It would strike him that in disappearing he might throw all pursuit off\nhis track, and at the same time have an ample and crushing revenge upon\nhis old sweetheart, if he could give the impression that he had been\nmurdered by her only child. It was a masterpiece of villainy, and he\ncarried it out like a master.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-11, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far.", "[Event happened on 2024-01-12 The user is reading a book]\n<User> The idea of the will, which would give\nan obvious motive for the crime, the secret visit unknown to his own\nparents, the retention of the stick, the blood, and the animal remains\nand buttons in the wood-pile, all were admirable. It was a net from\nwhich it seemed to me a few hours ago that there was no possible escape. But he had not that supreme gift of the artist, the knowledge of when to\nstop. He wished to improve that which was already perfect--to draw the\nrope tighter yet round the neck of his unfortunate victim--and so\nhe ruined all. Let us descend, Lestrade. There are just one or two\nquestions that I would ask him.\" The malignant creature was seated in his own parlour with a policeman\nupon each side of him. \"It was a joke, my good sir, a practical joke, nothing more,\" he whined\nincessantly. \"I assure you, sir, that I simply concealed myself in order\nto see the effect of my disappearance, and I am sure that you would not\nbe so unjust as to imagine that I would have allowed any harm to befall\npoor young Mr. McFarlane.\" \"That's for a jury to decide,\" said Lestrade. \"Anyhow, we shall have you\non a charge of conspiracy, if not for attempted murder.\" \"And you'll probably find that your creditors will impound the banking\naccount of Mr. Cornelius,\" said Holmes. The little man started and turned his malignant eyes upon my friend. \"I have to thank you for a good deal,\" said he. \"Perhaps I'll pay my\ndebt some day.\" Holmes smiled indulgently. \"I fancy that for some few years you will find your time very fully\noccupied,\" said he. \"By the way, what was it you put into the wood-pile\nbesides your old trousers? A dead dog, or rabbits, or what? You won't\ntell? Dear me, how very unkind of you! Well, well, I dare say that a\ncouple of rabbits would account both for the blood and for the charred\nashes. If ever you write an account, Watson, you can make rabbits serve\nyour turn.\" *****\n\n\n\n                     THE STRAND MAGAZINE\n                   Vol. 26  DECEMBER, 1903\n                THE RETURN OF SHERLOCK HOLMES. By ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.\n\n<System> Please remember what the user reads on 2024-01-12, save the details within the book, and retain a summary of the book the user has read so far."]
[{"question": "Summarize the content of the book I read from 2024-01-01 to 2024-01-12", "answer": "Sherlock Holmes, Dr. Watson, John Hector McFarlane, Jonas Oldacre, Inspector Lestrade, Mrs. Lexington, Baker Street, Blackheath, Norwood, London, murder accusation, fake death, inheritance, will, solicitor, house fire, bloody fingerprint, handwriting analysis, secret hideaway, practical joke, revenge, police investigation, evidence planting, family feud, observation skills, deduction, fingerprint identification, 1890s, Scotland Yard, MacFarlane's parents, Oldacre's house, newspaper article, legal documents, heir, missing documents, housekeeper, emotional rivalry, crime scene, confession, arrest, client, animal remains, charred remains"}]