The Valley of Fear (alternative version) | Page 7

-- at -- Birlstone -- House -- Birlstone -- confidence -- is
-- pressing.' There, Watson! What do you think of pure reason and its

fruit? If the greengrocer had such a thing as a laurel wreath, I should
send Billy round for it."
I was staring at the strange message which I had scrawled, as he
deciphered it, upon a sheet of foolscap on my knee.
"What a queer, scrambling way of expressing his meaning!" said I.
"On the contrary, he has done quite remarkably well," said Holmes.
"When you search a single column for words with which to express
your meaning, you can hardly expect to get everything you want. You
are bound to leave something to the intelligence of your correspondent.
The purport is perfectly clear. Some deviltry is intended against one
Douglas, whoever he may be, residing as stated, a rich country
gentleman. He is sure -- 'confidence' was as near as he could get to
'confident' -- that it is pressing. There is our result -- and a very
workmanlike little bit of analysis it was!"
Holmes had the impersonal joy of the true artist in his better work, even
as he mourned darkly when it fell below the high level to which he
aspired. He was still chuckling over his success when Billy swung open
the door and Inspector MacDonald of Scotland Yard was ushered into
the room.
Those were the early days at the end of the '80's, when Alec
MacDonald was far from having attained the national fame which he
has now achieved. He was a young but trusted member of the detective
force, who had distinguished himself in several cases which had been
entrusted to him. His tall, bony figure gave promise of exceptional
physical strength, while his great cranium and deep-set, lustrous eyes
spoke no less clearly of the keen intelligence which twinkled out from
behind his bushy eyebrows. He was a silent, precise man with a dour
nature and a hard Aberdonian accent.
Twice already in his career had Holmes helped him to attain success,
his own sole reward being the intellectual joy of the problem. For this
reason the affection and respect of the Scotchman for his amateur
colleague were profound, and he showed them by the frankness with

which he consulted Holmes in every difficulty. Mediocrity knows
nothing higher than itself; but talent instantly recognizes genius, and
MacDonald had talent enough for his profession to enable him to
perceive that there was no humiliation in seeking the assistance of one
who already stood alone in Europe, both in his gifts and in his
experience. Holmes was not prone to friendship, but he was tolerant of
the big Scotchman, and smiled at the sight of him.
"You are an early bird, Mr. Mac," said he. "I wish you luck with your
worm. I fear this means that there is some mischief afoot."
"If you said 'hope' instead of 'fear,' it would be nearer the truth, I'm
thinking, Mr. Holmes," the inspector answered, with a knowing grin.
"Well, maybe a wee nip would keep out the raw morning chill. No, I
won't smoke, I thank you. I'll have to be pushing on my way; for the
early hours of a case are the precious ones, as no man knows better than
your own self. But -- but --"
The inspector had stopped suddenly, and was staring with a look of
absolute amazement at a paper upon the table. It was the sheet upon
which I had scrawled the enigmatic message.
"Douglas!" he stammered. "Birlstone! What's this, Mr. Holmes? Man,
it's witchcraft! Where in the name of all that is wonderful did you get
those names?"
"It is a cipher that Dr. Watson and I have had occasion to solve. But
why -- what's amiss with the names?"
The inspector looked from one to the other of us in dazed astonishment.
"Just this," said he, "that Mr. Douglas of Birlstone Manor House was
horribly murdered last night!"

Chapter 2
Sherlock Holmes Discourses
It was one of those dramatic moments for which my friend existed. It
would be an overstatement to say that he was shocked or even excited
by the amazing announcement. Without having a tinge of cruelty in his
singular composition, he was undoubtedly callous from long
over-stimulation. Yet, if his emotions were dulled, his intellectual
perceptions were exceedingly active. There was no trace then of the
horror which I had myself felt at this curt declaration; but his face
showed rather the quiet and interested composure of the chemist who
sees the crystals falling into position from his oversaturated solution.
"Remarkable!" said he. "Remarkable!"
"You don't seem surprised."
"Interested, Mr. Mac, but hardly surprised. Why should I be surprised?
I receive an anonymous communication from a quarter which I know to