[Sherlock Holmes] The Legend of the Nightingale

(Nightingale's Diary)

We asked around the town and found the legendary witch's shop.The small shop is a bit remote on a street corner in the northwest corner of the town.But for her line of work, it is easy to create a sense of mystery, which is good for business.The door of the store was narrow and small, with a rough wooden sign above it, with "Cunningham" written in bold Gothic letters, and a curtain of small stones hanging on the door.There is a large window next to it, which is covered with hay, and there are some weird dolls, straw dolls, clay dolls and puppets on it.Holmes could not help smiling at the sight of this formation.

"Looks like it's a toy store. Let's ask what kind of kids these things are going to be sold to."

"What if she refuses to answer?" I said. "She sure doesn't want to mention it."

"Then you can only play with your eyes."

With that said, he opened the door curtain and walked in.I looked around, and a few pedestrians were standing on the side of the road and staring at us blankly.Holmes waited for me with the door curtain in a gentlemanly manner, and I hurried in.

The light dimmed, and it took me a while to see the furnishings in the room clearly.The store is all lit by a kerosene lamp on the counter. Obviously the owner of the store has turned it down to the lowest setting, creating a mysterious feeling.There are shelves on all four walls, including the back of the counter, which are full of things, wind chimes are hung from the ceiling, and large goods are piled on the floor.The store owner sat behind the counter, head bowed, all she could see was her loose hair.On the counter stood a model skull, a crystal ball and a folded piece of flannelette.Holmes and I were standing at the counter, and she did not raise her head.

Holmes took off his top hat. "Is that Mrs. Cunningham?"

The witch didn't look up, but raised a hand, and made a horizontal horoscope in midair with her index finger.I saw a big ring on her finger.

"Not in the sense of eternity. In the present, maybe."

I rolled my eyes.

"This is a witch who graduated from the mathematics department." I said.These words were so effective that the witch raised her head abruptly.

"What did you say?" she said angrily, "That's a symbol of eternity, it has nothing to do with mathematics!"

"Perhaps not in your theoretical system, but in mathematics we call this an infinity," said Holmes. "Does Mrs. Cunningham have time to receive customers?"

"Yes, of course. As long as customers have questions, I will try my best to answer them." Mrs. Cunningham stood up.She is quite different from the skinny and hunched witch in the general impression.She was a tall woman, standing only half a head shorter than Holmes, of about fifty, with gray hair, a broad face, and thick lips.If she wasn't wearing a strange black witch's robe, she would really look like someone's housekeeper.I do not know what was going through her mind when she saw young Holmes standing side by side with me at the counter.She had a small smile on her face as she came out from behind the counter and looked us over.Look, I think, she'll probably die a little earlier than expected.

"Strangers, what can I do for you?" As soon as she opened her mouth, her expression became extremely serious.

I coughed.Holmes glanced at me out of the corner of the eye, smiled comprehensibly, then turned to Mrs Cunningham, paused for a few seconds, and then said, biting every word:

"We've heard you're good at occult techniques. I'd like to consult a little, private matter."

The witch's expression softened a little. "That's all right, sir. I've had a lot of people ask me to figure things out for them. But I can't answer everything. You need to make it clear first."

"How about we try another way," said Holmes, "guess what we are asking, and if you guess correctly, you can decide whether to help us. If you guess wrong, you must help us."

Mrs. Cunningham looked at us for a moment. "Strange request, but it's okay, the witch keeps her word. Write down what you want to ask first."

Holmes held out his hand, and Mrs. Cunningham took a quill and a piece of paper from the counter.Holmes wrote for a while, then returned the pen to the witch, folded the paper in several folds and handed it to her.

"So, you two are together?"

"Yes. We are asking the same thing."

This too misleading pun left me a little speechless.I glanced at him and lowered my head again.Mrs. Cunningham let out a smug laugh.

"It's not a secret to witches, is it, young man? Youth is such a beautiful and sad thing. I knew it from the moment you walked in the door. It's emotion."

I still didn't look up because I really wanted to find a crack in the floor to get in.Holmes' voice still sounded calm, though I knew he wanted to hit more than I did.

"Are you sure there's a way out?"

This question is tricky.If he asked "Are you sure?" the witch would get suspicious.

"Of course, this is not a problem for me." Mrs. Cunningham smiled brightly, "But we have to negotiate a price in advance. Don't worry about this, witches have never disappointed customers."

Ha, I thought mockingly, even "price" is called "price" in the witch's place.Now there was no doubt that her so-called witchcraft was a trick, and an art that combined logical reasoning with language and literature.If you count quacks and folk handicrafts, I, Holmes, Watson and Mrs. Hudson can completely transform 221B Baker Street into a witchcraft shop, which is guaranteed to be much smarter than her.

"I'm afraid the customer will disappoint the witch this time, Mrs. Cunningham." Holmes suddenly returned from his gentle tone to his cold normalcy, "Since you said that the witch keeps her word, please take a look at that piece of paper. .”

The witch unfolded the note in her hand, glanced at it, and her face sank.

"Who are you?" she snapped.

"What are you writing about?" I turned to Holmes.

Holmes drew the note from the witch's frozen hands and handed it to me.Only one word was written on it: Jack.

"It took you so long to write a single word?"

"It's too difficult to write with a quill that was only used 100 years ago. Mrs. Cunningham, it's time for you to renovate this place."

"Who are you, what right do you have to ask these questions?" The witch's eyes widened in anger, "I refuse to answer all related questions. If you have nothing to buy, just leave my store. I have no time for you to waste. "

"I see that you will soon have an infinite amount of time to waste, Mrs. Cunningham, especially after your shop has been smashed up," said Holmes flatly. "At that point there is nothing we can do to help you, even if we wanted to."

"You mean you are here to help me?" The witch snorted, "It's funny, no one dares to smash the witch's shop yet."

"When people believed in witches 300 years ago, they dared to burn them to death." I take this part of historical knowledge dishonorably, "Although it is not a good thing. Children and young women continue to disappear, Now another child has been killed, which is much more serious than those trumped-up charges. Even if the police station is still rational, they cannot guarantee that the villagers will not act radically out of public anger. It is difficult for them to get excited Reasonable."

Well, now the situation is completely reversed, and Holmes and I are coaxing this trickster witch.Her expression became complicated, she turned her back to us, and sat down behind the counter.

"Shouldn't you introduce yourself first?" she said, "and then I can answer."

"Sorry. I am Sherlock Holmes, Consulting Detective, from London. This is my student, Angela Nightingale."

Holmes has risen to prominence in recent transnational cases.Mrs. Cunningham never expected that she would meet the person whose name was flying all over the newspapers these two days.

"So it's you. You've come here from London. I've never heard of this lady. What do you want to ask? But I can't promise to answer."

"Is it true that every missing person visited your store before the incident?" Holmes cut to the chase.

"Yes." Mrs. Cunningham replied patiently, "Don't ask me why, I don't know, maybe the devil is at work."

"How did they get here? On foot, or in a car?"

"Are you making trouble? How would I know? I sit here from morning to night and hardly move around. I don't know when they come in or out. If you don't believe me, you can ask the neighbors, how many times do you see me go out every month? Second-rate."

That would be a serious calcium deficiency, I think.

"When all the missing persons came into the shop, did you watch them leave?" asked Holmes.

"Yes. It's the same sentence, I don't know what will happen after I go out."

"Mr. Murray, Mr. Gray and Mr. Stevenson, do you know each other? Do they have anything to do with you?"

No matter how bad her eyes are, I can guarantee that the witch's expression becomes distorted after hearing this sentence.

"The three of them? Huh, college students don't bother to deal with me."

"Do you have any familiar people in the village? Or, do you have any relatives?"

"No." She suddenly got angry again, "This is personal privacy, who gave you the right to ask this?"

I'm a little nervous.Holmes had better not push her too hard.His current investigation is still a personal act without official permission.If Mrs. Cunningham refuses to co-operate and issues an eviction order, there is nothing we can do.

"I have no malice, and this information is of no use to me personally." Holmes' voice softened a little. "I am just a little curious. No one has ever said that you are related to Mr. Cargrey. Of course, it is also possible that you are not a Gray." , but if that's the case, why does he visit you occasionally."

The witch stood up. "He's my nephew, he's a devil like you, are you satisfied?"

"Thank you. Isn't that great? You don't have to lose your temper with each other, just answer truthfully." Holmes said, looking back, "That's all, thank you for the information you provided, if there is any progress, Nightingale , do you have anything else to ask... or to see?"

I must have been spotted by Holmes while I was staring at the crystal ball on the counter. "I still want to see what's here again."

"I'm leaving first. Some things can only be understood by referring to the police station's records. I can safely let you walk back by yourself, won't you get lost?"

"Can..."

Holmes stared at me a little helplessly.

"No matter how heartless I am, I can't go back. You go first, and I'll go back after I finish reading."

"Then see you later. Good-bye, Mrs. Cunningham."

The witch behind the counter pretended not to hear.

"Uh, wait a minute." I remembered one more thing, and stopped Holmes who had just opened the curtain to go out. "How did Gray come to that conclusion?"

"You ask because you can't see clearly?" said Holmes. "Mrs. Cunningham, if you don't mind, please show Miss Nightingale your seal. Good-bye."

"Goodbye." I don't know if he heard it.I looked back at the witch.As soon as Holmes was gone, her spirits improved a little, and she raised her hand to show the ring--it was a signet ring--and on it was engraved the word GRAY in Gothic script.

The author has something to say: The previous plot is a bit slow.This chapter is a real burst of inspiration.Today I want to say that the title of each chapter is actually changed from the name of a movie or literary work. I don’t know if you have noticed~ The author continues to make up the case and never returns...