[已连接][原创]The Mistake|『海外生活』 - 『漫游』酷论坛

[已连接][原创]The Mistake

seiyafan@2003-12-30 03:54

这是以前高中英文课写的作业。因为上大学后几乎没有机会写这种文章了，所以拿出来就作为一个美好回忆吧。

The Mistake

Since the first time I met him, he had become the most important person in my career. Browsing through the cases we took on from 1881 to 1904, he solved more mysteries than anyone I had known in my life. The scarlet word Rache, the “seven percent solution”, and the creepy night we spent for solving the mystery of “Speckled Band” were just a few of our unforgettable journeys. He was the man I respected and admired, and his name was Mr. Sherlock Holmes.
In the spring of 1888, I gave three lectures at the University of London, where I received my Doctor degree of Medicine about 10 years ago, and three more at Harvard University in America. Been the first time in a foreign nation, I was much excited to find out everything, but exhausted all at once because of the limited time I had. From the experience I gained in the past, I actually solved a small case myself. It happened that one day I overheard a conversation in a café about a duel between three brothers of the Beckham family. Normally I would try to stay away from those family feuds since Mr. Holmes took care most of these cases. But my curiosity could not stop me from wondering such a bizarre “threesome duel”. I went and asked them but very soon I found out that there was no one whom had any knowledge of the cause. I asked where they lived and met them in a cabin not far away from Boston. Soon I learned that their father, Johann Beckham was a peasant who died a few days ago and left his will in a letter. It was as follows:

“My dear sons, I could no longer take care any of you. The land that we owned was the property my father left to me. But now it no longer belongs to us. I expect all of you be independent for the rest of your life, so I left something for each of you. You will find them in a shoebox in my left drawer. I want my eldest son Benjamin to take 1/2 of them, my second eldest son Alexander to take 1/3 of them, and my youngest son Jake to take 1/9 of them. Remember to spend them wisely.
Love,
Father”

Benjamin showed me the 17 gold coins they found in the shoebox. However, they could not divide the money among themselves, because neither 1/2, 1/3 or 1/9 can split the 17 gold coins completely, and none of the three brothers wanted to break a gold coin into smaller pieces. Furthermore, not only they suspected their father made an error in counting the gold coins, but also each of them suspected the other two for stealing the coins prior to the day they found them in the shoebox. Consequently, they believed the only solution would be a duel to determine the owner of all 17 gold coins.
After hearing the case, I was fortunate to make a quick solution because Mr. Holmes taught me once on a similar case. I searched my pocket and found a gold coin identical to theirs. I added my coin to the other 17 and began dividing them according to the will. Benjamin took 9 coins since 1/2 of 18 was 9; in the same manner, Alexander acquired 6 coins and Jack got 2. When it was over, there was still one coin left unclaimed, and just happened to be the extra one I put in, so I gladly took it back.
Coming back from lectures, I was worn out and anticipated to indulge myself in some Mozart. However, I was also about to encounter one of the strangest cases in my life.
It was a sunny day when I returned London, I called a cab and before long I found myself back in the old place again – 221B Baker Street. I wanted to surprise Mr. Holmes with my return since he did not know when I would return. I tiptoed to the door but found the door was not locked, I pushed it open and walked in slowly without making a noise. As what I expected, he was working in his laboratory. But before I could make another step, I heard words coming from inside:
"My dear Watson, how glad to see you again!” Holmes exclaimed.
“How did you see me at the door?” I was much disappointed.
“Did you ever notice the mirrors hanging on the corner of the walls? I set them up yesterday. It seems my calculation was quite exact.” Holmes was joyful like a kid again.
“Well… Ah…hAh I supposed to surprise you, but rather you surprised me!”
“Indeed, Watson. That was also part of my calculations.”
“Calculations, calculations, don’t they ever bore you?”
“Why? My dear Watson?”
“Because I never ‘calculate’”
“And why is that?”
“Using intelligence of course. What else would it be, Mr. Holmes?” I grinned.
“Aye, you never change, do you? My dear Watson.”
He led me into his Lab and talked about a few cases he solved while I was on business vacation. They were all minor cases and I had not much interest in any of them.
At the same time, I realized I was deeply exhausted.
When I woke up the next morning the sun was already up high. I tried not to do any work to please my lazy body. However I told him about my trip in America and the Beckham case I took in Boston. As usual, he lit his pipe and listened meticulously from beginning to end. When I finished, he slapped his hand on the table and cried: “Not bad, Not bad at all!” said he, pointed to his forehead, “My dear Watson, I am glad you finally activated the rest of your brain cells up there.”
Two days later, the clock on my table finally retired. After serving me for 15 years, it could now rest in peace. I checked my pocket and found that there was not much money left for buying a new clock. Then I remembered that few streets away there was a pawnshop which just opened not long ago. I walked to the shop and bought a clock for a pound. It was a little bigger than the one I used. It had a round face and some paint on the clock surface was gone. From the style, I assumed that it was produced at least five decades ago. However, not long after I took it home, I realized I had been ripped-off because the hour hand was broken; it’s stuck to five o’clock. The sound of ticking fooled me and it made me feel like an idiot. When I told Mr. Holmes about it, he said to me in an honest tone: “It is quite natural to make careless mistakes, in fact, we all do.”
Suddenly, there came the sound of someone running upstairs as if the person was in great distress. We let him in. He was a man of medium height, about 30 years old; without any facial hair, his face was as white as a sheet. From the cheap cloth he wore I had no doubt that he was a servant. Without any pause he began to talk while breathing heavily.
“Who is Mr. Sherlock Holmes?” said he.
“I am the one you are looking for.” Holmes answered.
“For God’s sake, you have to save me, I don’t want to die, I am completely innocent.” The man spoke in such a pity way as if he was about to be hanged in a next minute.
“I will do the best I can, but first you have to tell us your story from beginning to end without a single word of lie.”
The man sat down and began his story. “My name is René Belleau. My family came to London about 20 years ago. Unfortunately, both my father and mother died shortly after I dropped out of high school. Not long my sister left me and went back to France. I had no relative in London, everyone was a stranger to me. Until in the winter of ’76, I remembered it was an extremely cold night, I slept in the corner of a street not far from here. I could not withstand the winter storm. I fainted, didn’t know how long I passed out, until I regained consciousness near by a fireplace. I was saved by a wealthy family by the name of Ravensdale. When I decided to leave again, Madame Ravensdale asked me whether I would like to remain here and become a servant. She was a softhearted woman, she did not want me to gamble my life on the street again. Judging from the circumstance surrounding me at the time, I agreed with her. Subsequently, my whole life has changed. I was well fed, well clothed and well educated, just like Tom Sawyer.”
“Who’s Tom Sawyer?” I interrupted.
“Oh, he’s a character created by Mark Twain.” said Belleau.
“His Masterpiece The Adventure of Huckleberry Finn was published 4 years ago in London.” said Holmes, he lit his pipe again. He always did that when he was thinking deeply as no other men could do. “Please continue your story, I am very interested to hear the rest of it.”
Mr. Belleau continued: “I obeyed whatever they said, I never overslept for a single minute in morning, and I was always the last person to go to bed at night. I treated them as best as I could. Madame Ravensdale has three sons; they are all younger than I am. Sometimes we played football in backyard. We also liked to discuss school matters with each other. I often felt I was part of them. I also had a good relationship with Monsieur Ravensdale. In the beginning, he disliked me because I looked a stranger to him. However in the last 5 years, he allowed me to handle almost all properties in the family. He told me the location of keys, jewelry, and other hidden treasures, he trusted me, as if I was his son. But all the things I had gained in the past are now in vain.” Then he bursts into tears.
“Did you mention they had three sons?” asked Holmes.
“Yes, they were all seniors in Queen Mary and Westfield College. The eldest son Jack was an athlete, he was exceptionally good in football, and his heading ability and speed made him a star in the football team, he is fluent in German, and his best subject was Chemistry. The second eldest son Owen was a very bright young man, he was always in the top 10 of the academic honor roll. Once he told me that he wanted to be the best detective in London. The youngest son Andrew was an outgoing lad, he liked boxing, and also wanted to be a detective.”
“Could you tell us what had turned you into such a miserable man?” Holmes said. “I want you to describe exactly what happened”
“It all happened 8 days ago. Monsieur and Madame Ravensdale were on a journey to Milan. They wanted me to accompany them, but I refused. I went to France to see my sister instead. 7 days later, I met my masters at the airport. But when we got home, my whole world had turned upside down. The three sons were murdered, all the jewelry were stolen. Madame Ravensdale fainted and she is still in hospital right now. Monsieur Ravensdale insisted that I was the murderer because he believed I did not go to France.”
“Any investigation after you came back?” asked Holmes.
“Yes, the police came there and checked the place. I was so afraid that they would charge me with murder. So I ran away before the police came. I know there is a detective named Sherlock Holmes who can solve any case, but I don’t know where he lives. So this morning, after I got your address, I tried to reach here as fast as I could. For the rest of my story, I think you already know it.”
“ Good, that’s all we need to know.” said Holmes. “I want you to remain in the police station until we found a conclusion. It won’t be long, I promise.” Then he turned to me and said: “Watson, I think it will be an interesting case.”
So we went to police station and asked to see the result of their investigation.
1. Autopsy showed that Owen and Andrew died of beverage poisoning. Jack died of gun wound with strange internal burn marks, but the bullet could not be found.
2. Owen and Andrew died at the same time (evening), Jack died four days later.
3. No footprints, fingerprints or any other marks related to murder and theft.
Without any delay, we left there and arrived at the house where the murder took place. It was a grand architecture. In the front of the house, there is a lawn about 800 square meters. Holmes quickly took a look at the lawn, then we both went in. We met Mr. Ravensdale, and he told us about his version of the story.
“Who is in charge of mowing the lawn?” asked Holmes.
“My servant Belleau.” replied Ravensdale.
“Anyone else ever mowed the lawn before?”
“Not really. Oh, Jack did that a few times, my servant taught him how to do it.”
“Did your three sons know the place where the jewelry was?”
“Yes, I told them and my servant as well.”
“Good. Did all your sons eat dinner at the same time?”
“Always, they were always present at the same time.”
“Very good. I have one more question for you Mr. Ravensdale: did your sons and Mr. Belleau know where you keep the guns?”
“No, I never told them a single word about it.”
“Excellent. I thank you for your cooperation. A few days later, you will be informed about the real murderer. As for now, I want you to keep your anger down. Mr. Belleau will remain innocent until proven guilty.”
When Holmes and I returned home, I asked him in a doubtful tone:“So you seem to know who did it? I think this is the most bizarre thing I ever heard.”
“Yes my Dear Watson, I share the same feeling as you. For now I do not know the real murdered since I am only 66% sure.” replied Holmes.
“What? What’s the other 33%?”
“That’s the man who killed Jack.”
“What! Two murders?”
“You see, Watson,” said Holmes. “First, Owen and Andrew were both killed at the dinner time while Jack was present. It would be impossible for Jack to be alive at that time unless he was unseen. And obviously, he was not. Second, Owen and Andrew both died of poison, and since Jack was an exceptional student in Chemistry. I conclude that Jack was the killer of Owen and Andrew.”
“But the servant said that they both wanted to be detectives, they must had some knowledge of whether the drink was poisoned or not. It would not be easy for Jack to succeed.”
“What do you usually add to a drink?”
“Ice cubes.”
“That’s where Jack hid the poison!”
“But how could he possibly know which one had poison in it? He was taking a big risk.”
“He didn’t know which was the deadly one. But it didn’t matter anyway. You see, this is how a smart guy like Jack make such thing. First, he put poison into some ice cubes. When they were put into a drink, ice started to melt slowly. Since the poison was surrounded by ice completely, Jack would take this time to drink some of it and not touch it again once the poison was in contact with the beverage. Apparently, Owen and Andrew were not aware of this. Now for Jack, I guess he was probably in some conflict with an outsider. But we cannot rule out the possibility that Mr. Belleau was the murderer.” Mr. Holmes looked outside the window while holding his pipe. I could see he was deeply troubled by it.
In the next five days, we made no progress at all. Mr. Holmes’ schedule had extended two hours longer each day. I often see him walking in front of the house but rarely could I see him reading newspapers or sitting down during his mealtime. On the sixth day, he suddenly came to me and asked to see the “broken” clock I bought at the pawnshop. He took it to his Lab and began examining it as if he were to disarm a bomb. And I was fortunate to witness the all the combinations of muscle movements on his face. First, it was surprising; then it was shocking; astonishing; at the end, however, he was smiling.
“Come here my dear Watson,” he cried, “take a look at it yourself.”
I came over but could not believe what I saw. Inside of the clock, there were several pieces of paper rolls. Each was about 3-4 centimeters long. Holmes was reading each of them thoroughly. Before long, he started talking to me again.
“These paper rolls are critical in this case, they showed Jack was killed by a man whom he had been working together for some years. This is their entire plot: Jack is jealous that when his father dies, each of his two younger brothers would take more properties than what he would take. Even though he is the eldest brother, he is not well liked by his father. So he and his friend Robert Mitchell decided to smuggle all the jewelry into Germany, then they could make a fortune out of them. Somehow, their scheme was overheard by the other two brothers. When I enter their house on that day, I noticed that the walls of each bedroom were somewhat thinner than the walls in an ordinary house. Thus it made possible for eavesdropping. Although Owen and Andrew overheard his brother’s scheme, they could not do anything about it. When I had the first conversation with Mr. Ravensdale, I noticed he was the type of person who would hit the ceiling for a trivial reason. Jack was a bright young man; he probably became aware of his brothers’ attitudes toward himself, for which they had changed dramatically overnight. His only chance of getting rid of his two brothers came when Mr. and Mrs. Ravensdale was on journey outside of London. Jack knew that if anything happened to his brothers, it would be more likely for his father to blame servant Mr. Belleau than himself. After he carried out the murder, however, he refused to work with Robert again because he disliked the reward. At this point, Robert took the advantage of that week and acted first. Autopsy of Jack’s body showed that he died of a “bullet-less” gun wound. This is not hard to explain, Robert is an expert in making weapons and ammunitions. He could replace the head of a bullet with a piece of dye ice of the identical size. Dye ice is made of highly pressurized carbon dioxide gas. It does not turn to water when it “melts”. So it entered his body and “disappeared” shortly after. After Jack was down, Robert stole all the jewelry. Of course, Jack had told him where they were since they used to be partners before. When we first examined the house, I looked carefully at the front lawn. I noticed some grass was shorter on one side of lawn than the other side. From the depth and the type of the mowed grass, I concluded that Jack mowed the lawn just moments before he was shot. Remember that Mr. Belleau told us he was a football star? If his heading and speed were extraordinary, he must be a tall man. And what kind of mark do tall men usually leave when they mow the lawn? The grass is shorter than that of mowed by shorter people. You see, Watson, when a person pushes a lawnmower, he is applying a force to the handle. This force can be resolved into the horizontal and vertical components. When the person is tall, the vertical component of the force must be greater than that when the person is short. Since more force is applied in pushing down the lawnmower, the depth of grass must be shorter. I think when he was mowing the lawn, he probably noticed someone was in the house, so he stopped working. That’s why only one side of lawn was cut. Of course, when Jack went back in the house, he would find no one but Robert, and there he met his fate. And this is my complete explanation of this bizarre case.”
The next day, we went to the house again and explained everything to Mr. Ravensdale and his servant Mr. Belleau. Mr. Ravensdale was, of course, furious at the times. But he eventually accepted the truth and agreed to treat Mr. Belleau well for as long as he remains to be his servant. I was pleased to see that this case finally had a happy ending. But for me, my story was not over yet.
“Watson, could you come over?” yelled Holmes, from Jack’s bedroom.
I went there and he pointed something to me which almost made me fell over. Before my eyes, there was a clock indistinguishable to the one I bought in the pawnshop. I could not utter a word out until Holmes looked at me and said: “Are you thinking what I am thinking?”
“The… THAT’S WHY YOU WANTED TO SEE MY… MY…” the word “clock” was stuck at my throat.
Mr. Holmes tapped on my shoulder and lead me to the outside. Then he looked at me and said: “Remember the day I talked to you about your mistake?”
“Well, I don’t feel I made a mistake because my “broken” clock played such an important role in solving the mystery.” Replied I, “plus, my mistake saved Mr. Belleau’s life. If he was charged because I didn’t make that mistake, now that would be a REALLY BIG mistake.”
At this point, Holmes bursted into laughter. “My Dear Watson, you are now really thinking what I am thinking.”
In the corner of the room, the hour hand of the clock just turned to six......

引用

gemini22g@2003-12-30 05:15

这算不算同人文啊？

引用

buncyue@2003-12-30 05:31

admire到4

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beidog@2003-12-31 05:25

写的还可以！不过有点长！

引用

JanusWang@2003-12-31 12:46

首先佩服你写得这么长。不过还是要打击一下。我觉得你的推理不是很合理，至少说不是很合法。很多都是假设，证据不足。那个钟到底怎么关键了，也交待得不够清楚。是一篇失败的侦探小文。
不要打我！