“On entering the room their first proceeding must have beento gag Mr. Blessington. He may have been asleep， or he may havebeen so paralyzed with terror as to have been unable to cry out.
These walls are thick， and it is conceivable that his shriek， if hehad time to utter one， was unheard.
“Having secured him， it is evident to me that a consultation ofsome sort was held. Probably it was something in the nature of ajudicial proceeding. It must have lasted for some time， for it wasthen that these cigars were smoked. The older man sat in thatwicker chair； it was he who used the cigar-holder. The youngerman sat over yonder； he knocked his ash off against the chest ofdrawers. The third fellow paced up and down. Blessington， I think，sat upright in the bed， but of that I cannot be absolutely certain.
“Well， it ended by their taking Blessington and hanging him.
The matter was so prearranged that it is my belief that theybrought with them some sort of block or pulley which might serveas a gallows. That screw-driver and those screws were， as I conceive，for fixing it up. Seeing the hook， however they naturally savedthemselves the trouble. Having finished their work they made off，and the door was barred behind them by their confederate.”
We had all listened with the deepest interest to this sketchof the night’s doings， which Holmes had deduced from signs sosubtle and minute that， even when he had pointed them out tous， we could scarcely follow him in his reasoning. The inspectorhurried away on the instant to make inquiries about the page，while Holmes and I returned to Baker Street for breakfast.
“I’ll be back by three，” said he， when we had finished our meal.
“Both the inspector and the doctor will meet me here at that hour，and I hope by that time to have cleared up any little obscuritywhich the case may still present.”
Our visitors arrived at the appointed time， but it was a quarter tofour before my friend put in an appearance. From his expression ashe entered， however， I could see that all had gone well with him.
“Any news， Inspector？”
“We have got the boy， sir.”
“Excellent， and I have got the men.”
“You have got them！” we cried， all three.
“Well， at least I have got their identity. This so-calledBlessington is， as I expected， well known at headquarters， and soare his assailants. Their names are Biddle， Hayward， and Moffat.”
“The Worthingdon bank gang，” cried the inspector.
“Precisely，” said Holmes.
“Then Blessington must have been Sutton.”
“Exactly，” said Holmes.
“Why， that makes it as clear as crystal，” said the inspector.
But Trevelyan and I looked at each other in bewilderment.
“You must surely remember the great Worthingdon bankbusiness，” said Holmes. “Five men were in it—these four and afifth called Cartwright. Tobin， the caretaker， was murdered， andthe thieves got away with seven thousand pounds. This was in 1875.
They were all five arrested， but the evidence against them was byno means conclusive. This Blessington or Sutton， who was theworst of the gang， turned informer. On his evidence Cartwrightwas hanged and the other three got fifteen years apiece. Whenthey got out the other day， which was some years before theirfull term， they set themselves， as you perceive， to hunt down thetraitor and to avenge the death of their comrade upon him. Twicethey tried to get at him and failed； a third time， you see， it cameoff. Is there anything further which I can explain， Dr. Trevelyan？”
“I think you have made it all remarkable clear，” said the doctor.
“No doubt the day on which he was perturbed was the day whenhe had seen of their release in the newspapers.”
“Quite so. His talk about a burglary was the merest blind.”
“But why could he not tell you this？”
“Well， my dear sir， knowing the vindictive character of his oldassociates， he was trying to hide his own identity from everybodyas long as he could. His secret was a shameful one， and he couldnot bring himself to divulge it. However， wretch as he was， he wasstill living under the shield of British law， and I have no doubt，Inspector， that you will see that， though that shield may fail toguard， the sword of justice is still there to avenge.”
Such were the singular circumstances in connection with theResident Patient and the Brook Street Doctor. From that nightnothing has been seen of the three murderers by the police， and itis surmised at Scotland Yard that they were among the passengersof the ill-fated steamer Norah Creina， which was lost some yearsago with all hands upon the Portuguese coast， some leagues to thenorth of Oporto. The proceedings against the page broke down forwant of evidence， and the Brook Street Mystery， as it was called， hasnever until now been fully dealt with in any public print.
The Greek Interpreter
During my long and intimate acquaintance with Mr. SherlockHolmes I had never heard him refer to his relations， and hardlyever to his own early life. This reticence upon his part had increasedthe somewhat inhuman effect which he produced upon me， untilsometimes I found myself regarding him as an isolated phenomenon，a brain without a heart， as deficient in human sympathy as hewas preёminent in intelligence. His aversion to women andhis disinclination to form new friendships were both typical ofhis unemotional character， but not more so than his completesuppression of every reference to his own people. I had come tobelieve that he was an orphan with no relatives living， but one day， tomy very great surprise， he began to talk to me about his brother.
It was after tea on a summer evening， and the conversation， whichhad roamed in a desultory， spasmodic fashion from golf clubs to thecauses of the change in the obliquity of the ecliptic， came round atlast to the question of atavism and hereditary aptitudes. The pointunder discussion was， how far any singular gift in an individual wasdue to his ancestry and how far to his own early training.
