TheAdventureOfTheBlueCarbuncle

Sherlock Holmes and the blue car -bunkle.

I decided to visit my friend Sherlock Holmes a day before Christmas.

When I entered the sitting room, he was lying on the sofa.

He was smoking his pipe.

Beside the sofa was a chair.

A hat was hanging from the back of the chair.

The hat looked old and dirty.

The grey detective was staring at the hat.

I'm glad you've come, Watson.

Look at this hat.

It's very interesting, he said.

Who does that hat belong to?

I asked.

And why is it interesting?

I don't know, replied Holmes.

But Peterson, the porter who looks after this apartment, found it.

He also found a goose with the hat.

Strange, a goose and a hat.

How did Peterson find these things, I asked?

Yesterday Holmes said, Peterson went to a party.

After the party, he walked home along Tottenham Court Road.

A tall man was walking in front of him.

This man was carrying a large white goose over his shoulder.

Suddenly, Holmes continued, a group of rough young men appeared.

They tried to attack the tall man.

Perhaps they wanted to steal the goose.

The tall man raised his walking stick, but the stick hit a shop window behind him.

The broken glass fell on the pavement with a loud crash.

The tall man became frightened Holmes went on.

He dropped the goose and ran away.

Peterson went towards the young men.

When they saw him, they also ran away.

Perhaps they thought Peterson was a policeman.

What did Peterson do then, I asked?

He brought the hat and the goose to me this morning, replied Holmes.

A label was tied to the goose's leg.

This label said, for Mrs. Henry Baker.

And the initials H .B. were inside the hat.

So the owner of the hat must be Mr. Henry Baker, I said.

And the goose was probably a present for his wife.

By the way Holmes, where is the goose?

Peterson and his family are eating it now, Holmes replied.

Suddenly the door opened and a man rushed in.

It was Peterson, he was very excited.

The goose Mr. Holmes, the goose, he cried.

We stared at Peterson in astonishment.

What's happened to the goose asked Holmes?

Look sir, said Peterson.

See what my wife has found inside the goose?

Peterson held out his hand.

In the palm of his hand, I saw a beautiful blue jewel.

The jewel shone and sparkled with brilliant lights.

What is it Holmes? I asked.

Is it a diamond?

No Watson, he said.

It isn't a diamond.

It's the blue carbunkle, a very famous, unusual jewel.

It belongs to a rich lady, the Countess of Moorcar.

But it was stolen last week.

Holmes got up and went over to his desk.

He looked in a drawer and found a newspaper.

Jewel robbery at the Hotel Cosmopolitan.

Blue carbunkle stolen, he read.

Holmes thought for a few moments,

How did it get inside a goose?

We know the goose belonged to a man called Henry Baker.

We must find him first.

We must see if he knows anything about the blue carbunkle.

But how can we find Henry Baker? I asked.

We'll advertise in the newspaper, replied Holmes.

He took a pen and wrote out an advertisement.

Found Tottenham Court Road, a goose and a black hat,

Mr. HB, please contact 221 Baker Street.

Please, Peterson, said Holmes to the porter.

Go to the newspaper advertising agency.

I want this advertisement printed in all the evening newspapers.

Then come back here.

Also, take this money and buy a goose.

I'll need a goose for Mr. Baker.

When Peterson had gone, Holmes said,

Watson, if Henry Baker comes, will give him a simple test.

What kind of test, I asked.

A test to see if he knows anything about the blue carbunkle,

answered Holmes.

But meanwhile, we must wait.

I had some work to do, so I went out.

But about half past six, I returned to Baker Street.

A tall man was waiting outside Holmes's apartment.

We went inside together.

Good evening, Watson, said Holmes.

And you are, sir?

I'm Henry Baker.

I read the advertisement about the hat and the goose, the man said.

Please sit down, Mr. Baker, said Holmes.

He pointed at the black hat on the chair.

But I'm sorry about your goose.

We ate it.

The man rose from his chair excitedly.

But we've bought a fresh goose for you.

It's over there on the desk, continued Holmes calmly.

Henry Baker began to laugh.

I'll be very happy to take this one, he said.

It's much bigger than mine.

Thank you very much.

Good, said Holmes.

Well, here's your hat and your goose.

By the way, the goose was delicious.

Where did you buy it?

I got it from Mr. Windigate, landlord of the Alpha Inn, near the

British Museum, replied Baker.

Mr. Windigate ran a goose club for his customers.

What's a goose club?

I asked.

Well, replied Henry Baker, a goose is very expensive, you know.

And a goose club is a way of saving money to buy a goose at Christmas.

Each member of the club paid Mr. Windigate a few pens every week.

Mr. Windigate collected the money week by week.

By Christmas there was enough money to buy a goose for everybody in the club.

Mr. Windigate bought the geese, so each member of the club had a goose to eat on Christmas day.

When Henry Baker had gone, Holmes said,

Well Watson, Henry Baker knows nothing about the blue car -bunkle.

He was happy to take the other goose.

Now we must go and see Mr. Windigate.

Come on.

It was a cold, clear night, and the stars were shining brightly.

We walked quickly to the Alpha Inn, near the British Museum.

Inside the Inn, a red -faced man was behind the bar.

He was the landlord, Mr. Windigate.

We asked for two glasses of wine.

I hope your wine is as good as your geese, said Holmes.

My geese, said the landlord in surprise.

Yes, a friend of mine, Mr. Henry Baker, told me about your goose club.

He said your geese were excellent.

Oh, I see, said Mr. Windigate.

But those geese weren't mine.

I bought them from a salesman at Covenant Garden Market.

Holmes lent forward excitedly.

Do you remember the salesman's name?

He asked.

Yes, replied Mr. Windigate.

It was Breckenridge.

Thank you very much, said Holmes.

Come on, Watson.

We went outside into the street.

We walked through many narrow streets.

At last we reached Covenant Garden.

There were many stalls in the marketplace.

I saw the name Breckenridge on one of the stalls.

A man was just closing up the shutters of the stall.

Good evening, said Holmes in a friendly voice.

Are you Mr. Breckenridge?

That's right, said the man.

How can I help you?

Have you any geese asked Holmes?

I'm sorry, said the man.

I've sold all of them.

What a pity, said Holmes.

The landlord of the Alpha Inn, Mr. Windigate, advised me to come to you.

He said your geese were excellent.

Where did you get them from?

To my surprise, Breckenridge suddenly became very angry.

I'm not telling you, he said.

People keep asking me questions about those geese.

Why is everybody so interested in them?

I bet you 10 pounds the geese came from a farm outside London.

The best geese always come from farms in the country, said Holmes.

You owe me 10 pounds then, the man laughed.

He took out two large books and opened one of them.

This book contains a list of the people who sell me geese.

The names in red ink are people in London.

Read out the third name on the list, the man continued.

Holmes took the book and read.

Mrs. Oakshot, 117, Breckston Road.

This name is written in red ink, so that means Mrs. Oakshot lives in London.

But how will you prove that the geese were bought from her?

This second book shows the dates I bought the geese.

Look at the date of December 22nd, said Breckenridge.

Holmes looked in the second book.

He read, December 22nd, bought from Mrs. Oakshot.

24 geese, sold to Windigate.

There, said Breckenridge.

So I've won the bet.

Now give me my money.

Holmes didn't say anything.

He gave the man 10 pounds then we left.

You are very clever Holmes, I said.

The bet was really a good trick.

Suddenly we heard angry voices behind us.

A man was standing in front of Breckenridge's stall.

This man was small with a sharp pointed face.

He was arguing loudly with Breckenridge.

One of those geese was mine the man was shouting,

Tell me who you sold it to.

I'll tell you nothing, shouted Breckenridge.

Now go away or I'll call the police.

The man turned and ran off down the dark street.

Come on Watson, said Holmes.

Let's follow that man.

We ran after the man.

Holmes laid his hand on the man's shoulder.

Excuse me, said Holmes.

But I think you are interested in some geese.

Or rather, one special goose.

A goose that Breckenridge bought from Mrs. Oakshot of Brixton Road.

Oh, sir, said the man.

Can you help me?

Do you know anything about that goose?

Perhaps I can help you, answered Holmes.

But first you must tell me your name.

My name is James Ryder, said the man.

James Ryder repeated Holmes.

Yes, I remember.

It was in the newspaper story about the jewel robbery.

You are the manager of the hotel Cosmopolitan.

The blue car -bunkle was stolen from that hotel.

Well, come with us, Mr. Ryder.

We got into a cab and drove back to Holmes's apartment in Baker Street.

Now, Ryder, said Holmes.

I'll tell you what happened to your goose.

It came here, but it was an unusual bird.

After it was dead, it laid an egg.

An egg, said Ryder.

I don't understand.

Well, said Holmes.

It was a beautiful blue egg.

Look, I'll show you.

Holmes went to his desk and took out a box.

He unlocked the box and held up the blue car -bunkle.

The jewel shone like a cold blue star in the room.

We know everything, Ryder, said Holmes quietly.

We know you stole the blue car -bunkle.

Ryder threw himself down on the carpet in front of Holmes.

He started to cry.

Please, please don't call the police, he said.

Think of my mother and father.

They will die of shame if I go to prison.

I have never stolen anything before and I promise I'll never steal anything again.

Sit down, said Holmes.

Tell us everything.

How did the jewel get into the goose?

And how did the goose come to covenant garden market?

I am the manager of the Hotel Cosmopolitan, said Ryder.

The Countess of Moorcar came to stay at the hotel and I became friendly with the Countesses made.

But made told me the Countess owned a famous jewel.

Ryder stopped talking for a moment.

Then he continued with his story.

I decided to steal the jewel.

One afternoon I saw the Countess leave the hotel.

I had keys to all rooms in the hotel.

I went into the Countess's bedroom and found a jewel box in the desk.

Inside the jewel box was the blue car -bunkle.

I took out the jewel and left the room.

Then I called the police.

I told them that someone had broken into the Countess's room.

The police didn't think you were the thief because you called them, said Holmes.

Yes, but I was very worried.

The jewel was in my pocket.

I left the hotel quickly and hurried to my sister's house.

Just a moment, said Holmes.

Mrs. Oakshot is your sister, isn't she?

Yes, said Ryder.

He was surprised.

How did you know?

Holmes didn't answer the question.

He kept on talking.

You had to find a safe place to hide the jewel.

So why not hide the jewel inside a goose?

The police would never find it.

I caught a large goose with a black mark on its tail, Ryder continued.

I opened its mouth and pushed the jewel inside.

The goose swallowed the jewel.

Then I went indoors to find my sister.

You asked your sister a goose for Christmas.

Holmes went on.

Your sister let you pick one, but you chose the wrong one.

Maybe there were two geese with black marks on their tails.

Ryder was even more surprised to hear that from Holmes.

Yes, I cut the goose open after a few days, but there was nothing in it.

I ran back to my sister's house, but all the geese had gone.

She had sold them all.

Then I, we know the rest of the story, Ryder, Holmes said.

He stood up and opened the door.

Get out, he said.

Oh, thank you, sir, said Ryder.

He rushed out of the room and down the stairs.

Why did you let him go, Holmes?

I asked.

This man will not steal anything from now on, answered Holmes.

I'm quite sure of that.

And besides Watson, it's Christmas, a time to show mercy.

Merry Christmas.