The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (Sherlock Holmes 3)

"The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vitalimportance to the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I thinkthat it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them.A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a wayas to deceive a coroner's jury. There must have been several init, and they must have been men of resource and determination.Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may.In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the initials of anindividual and becomes the badge of a society."

"But of what society?"

"Have you never--" said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward andsinking his voice--"have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?"

"I never have."

Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. "Here itis," said he presently:

"'Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance tothe sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secretsociety was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in theSouthern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed localbranches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee,Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Its power wasused for political purposes, principally for the terrorising ofthe negro voters and the murdering and driving from the countryof those who were opposed to its views. Its outrages were usuallypreceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantasticbut generally recognised shape--a sprig of oak-leaves in someparts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving thisthe victim might either openly abjure his former ways, or mightfly from the country. If he braved the matter out, death wouldunfailingly come upon him, and usually in some strange andunforeseen manner. So perfect was the organisation of thesociety, and so systematic its methods, that there is hardly acase upon record where any man succeeded in braving it withimpunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to theperpetrators. For some years the organisation flourished in spiteof the efforts of the United States government and of the betterclasses of the community in the South. Eventually, in the year1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there havebeen sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.'

"You will observe," said Holmes, laying down the volume, "thatthe sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with thedisappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It maywell have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and hisfamily have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track.You can understand that this register and diary may implicatesome of the first men in the South, and that there may be manywho will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered."

"Then the page we have seen--"

"Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, 'sentthe pips to A, B, and C'--that is, sent the society's warning tothem. Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, orleft the country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, asinister result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may letsome light into this dark place, and I believe that the onlychance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I havetold him. There is nothing more to be said or to be doneto-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget forhalf an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserableways of our fellow-men."

It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with asubdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over thegreat city. Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I camedown.

"You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said he; "I have, Iforesee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case ofyoung Openshaw's."

"What steps will you take?" I asked.

"It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries.I may have to go down to Horsham, after all."

"You will not go there first?"

"No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and themaid will bring up your coffee."

As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table andglanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent achill to my heart.

"Holmes," I cried, "you are too late."

"Ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "I feared as much. How was itdone?" He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved.

"My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading 'TragedyNear Waterloo Bridge.' Here is the account:

"Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the HDivision, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help anda splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark andstormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, itw

as quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, wasgiven, and, by the aid of the water-police, the body waseventually recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentlemanwhose name, as it appears from an envelope which was found in hispocket, was John Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham.It is conjectured that he may have been hurrying down to catchthe last train from Waterloo Station, and that in his haste andthe extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edgeof one of the small landing-places for river steamboats. The bodyexhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt thatthe deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident,which should have the effect of calling the attention of theauthorities to the condition of the riverside landing-stages."

We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed andshaken than I had ever seen him.

"That hurts my pride, Watson," he said at last. "It is a pettyfeeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personalmatter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set myhand upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and thatI should send him away to his death--!" He sprang from his chairand paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation, with aflush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping andunclasping of his long thin hands.

"They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last. "How couldthey have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on thedirect line to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was toocrowded, even on such a night, for their purpose. Well, Watson,we shall see who will win in the long run. I am going out now!"

"To the police?"

"No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they maytake the flies, but not before."

All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late inthe evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmeshad not come back yet. It was nearly ten o'clock before heentered, looking pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard,and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously,washing it down with a long draught of water.

"You are hungry," I remarked.

"Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing sincebreakfast."

"Nothing?"