Chapter Two
A small dull house stood in front of us. The fair-haired form of Inspector Gregson of Scotland Yard suddenly stepped out of the front door and rushed toward us. “Mr. Holmes!” he cried.
“Have you found any clues?”
“None yet, Mr. Holmes. But Constable Walters found a dead chicken in the kitchen. We think that’s where the blood came from.”
“Ah! I thought so.” said the great detective.
“Come inside. You might find something we have missed.” said Gregson. “I identified the dead man. His name is Joseph Mortimer, and he’d gotten into some trouble over hitting a drunken scoundrel with a wine bottle recently. He was a retired sailor, and was a quite powerful man. He fought in the Second Opium War and the Indian Mutiny and received some little honors from the government. As of yet, we don’t grasp any motives for the murder, nor how it was done.”
“From Mr. Brown’s account, I should say he was poisoned, but with what I cannot say.” said I.
“This does come a lot into your line, Dr. Watson, and we hope that the case is solved as fast as possible. My,my! This is one of the strangest cases that I have seen in my life.”said Gregson.
“I should like to have a look around the house.” said Holmes.
“Of course, Mr. Holmes,” said Gregson.
So we entered the house. It was a dull, yet cozy place. Agreeing with our client’s account, there was a considerable amount of blood on the walls. The body of Mr. Mortimer was found still grinning in a risus sardonicus smile, normally caused by strychnine. “Holmes, I would say strychnine was the poison used here, although for what motive I do not know.”
“I should say, what do you make of this card?” asked Holmes. He gestured to a small rectangular piece of cardboard handwritten in ink and covered with blotting-paper.
“Why, Mr. Holmes, how did you find that?” Gregson was incredulous.
“Because I looked for it.”
“Sir, you seem to have powers of magic,” said Gregson. “How did you ever know that it was there?”
“It says ‘EIC IM 796-186-556 JM’,” remarked Holmes with some nonchalance, “Although what that means I do not know.”
“It’s probably a cipher,” I answered.
“No, no, Watson, it’s a card, and I can say that the letters ‘JM’ are the initials of this unfortunate fellow.
“Perhaps ‘EIC’ stands for the East India Company, as we know he spent some time in India.” I remarked.
“Why, Watson, you are correct. The man spent some time in India, and the cardboard is an old type, therefore it was made in India, and EIC could only stand for East India Company,” said my friend.
Anay Ganesh 