II

“The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!” he gasped.

“Eh? What’s the matter with it? Has it returned to life and flew out of the kitchen window?”

“Look, sir! Look what my wife found in its crop!” He held out his hand and showed a brilliantly shiny blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size. But it was so pure and radiant that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand.

Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. “By Jove, Peterson!” said he, “you’ve found a real treasure. I suppose you know what you have got?”

“A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it were putty.”

“It’s more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone.”

“Not the Countess of Morcar’s blue carbuncle!” I realized.

“Precisely so. I should know its size and shape, because I have read the advertisement about it in The Times every day lately. It is absolutely unique, and we can only imagine its value. The reward of 1000 pounds is offered, but it doesn’t make even a twentieth part of the market price.”

“A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!” The commissionaire sat down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us.

“That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are sentimental considerations in the background which would make the Countess give half her fortune away if she could but get the gem back.”

“It was lost, if I remember right, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan,” I remarked.

“Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago. John Horner, a plumber, was accused of having stolen it from the lady’s jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case has been referred to the Assizes. I have something about it here, I believe.” He looked through his newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last he read the following paragraph:

“Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was accused of having upon the 22nd inst., stolen from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the valuable gem known as the blue carbuncle. James Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might fix the second bar of the grate, which was loose. He had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been called away. When he returned, he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had been open, and that the small jewel-case in which the Countess used to keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing-table. Ryder gave the alarm immediately, and Horner was arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be found either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, declared that she had heard Ryder’s cry of dismay when the robbery was discovered, and had rushed into the room, where she found out the gem was missing. Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who struggled madly, and insisted on his innocence. He had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of court.”

“Hum! So much for the police-court,” said Holmes thoughtfully, putting aside the paper. “The question is what sequence of events is leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly become much more important and less innocent. Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must find this gentleman and reveal his part in this little mystery. To do this, we must try the simplest means first and advertise in all the evening papers.”

“What will you say?”

“Give me a pencil and that sheet of paper. Now, then:

Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker can have these things by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker Street.

That is short and clear.”

“Very. But will he see it?”

“Well, I am sure he is keeping an eye on the papers because he has lost too much for a poor man. He was clearly so scared by breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson that all he wanted was to run away, but since then he must have bitterly regretted dropping the bird. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertising agency and have this put in the evening papers.”

“In which, sir?”

“Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James’s, Evening News Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you.”

“Very well, sir. And this stone?”

“Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is now devouring.”

When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. “It’s a bonny thing,” said he. “Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody crime. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and it is remarkable because it has every characteristic of the carbuncle, except that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallized charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would lead to the gallows and the prison? I’ll lock it up in my strongbox now and write to the Countess to say that we have it.”

“Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?”

“I cannot tell.”

“Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had anything to do with the matter?”

“It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall know by a very simple test if we have an answer to our advertisement.”

“And you can do nothing until then?”

“Nothing.”

“In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, because I should like to see the solution of so tangled a business.”

“Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe. By the way, in view of recent events, perhaps I should ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop.”

I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I returned to Baker Street. As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle of the light. Just as I arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes’s room.

“Mr. Henry Baker, I believe,” said he, rising from his armchair and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so readily take on. “Please take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a cold night, and I can see that your clothing is more adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?”

“Yes, sir, that is certainly my hat.”

He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, a broad, intelligent face, and a grey beard. A shade of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his hand, recalled Holmes’s proposition about his habits. His seedy black coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar turned up, and there was no sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow manner, choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a learned man who has been unfortunate recently.

“We have retained these things for some days,” said Holmes, “because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I can not understand now why you did not advertise.”

Our visitor laughed shyly. “Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were,” he said. “I was sure that the gang of roughs who attacked me had carried off both my hat and the bird. I did not want to spend more money hopelessly trying to find them.”

“Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we had to eat it.”

“To eat it!” Our visitor has stood up in excitement.

“Yes, if we didn’t do so, it would be of no use to anyone. But I believe that this other goose, which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will suit you equally well?”

“Oh, certainly, certainly,” answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief.

“Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so if you wish—”

The man burst into a hearty laugh. “They might be useful to me as souvenirs of my adventure,” said he, “but beyond that I can hardly see why I would need the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will take the excellent bird which I can see upon the sideboard.”

Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

“There is your hat, then, and there your bird,” said he. “By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am somewhat of a fancier, and I have rarely seen a better grown goose.”

“Certainly, sir,” said Baker, who had stood up and taken his restored property under his arm. “There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum – we work in the Museum itself during the day, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by name, organised a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am so grateful to you, sir.” He bowed to both of us in a comical manner and left.

“So much for Mr. Henry Baker,” said Holmes when he had closed the door behind him. “It is quite certain that he knows nothing about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?”

“Not really.”

“Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this clue while it is still hot.”

“Certainly.”