SHYLOCK HOMES, HIS POSTHUMOUS MEMOIRS.

Evening Star, Issue 11891, 20 May 1903, Page 8

SHYLOCK HOMES, HIS POSTHUMOUS MEMOIRS.

[By John Kendrick Banes, in ' New York Herald.'] ME HOMES SHATTERS AN ALIBI. Yielding to the solicitation of my friends, I opened up a bureau of information in one of toe conspicuous office buildings of Cimmeria. Ims I advertised in the newspapers, stating that I was ready at any time to undertake the solution of any or all mysteries that were brought to my attention by those who chose to arafl themselves of my services. For a little while, barring a few trivial matters which were brought to me, there was no business of any importance on my books, but at last a case did come up which filled mo at least, with a e roat deal of interest. It was a gusty night in the latter part of March. I was just, about to lock up my office and start for tho club when a sharp rap on the outer door struck viciously upon my ear. " Come in," I cried, turning the electric light so that its illumination concentrated itself upon the doorway, leaving me in the comparative darkness of tho evening shadows. The door opened with a jerk, and there, peering into the room with a piercing eye that seemed to gather everything before it in at a glance, stood a gaunt, wiry woman, whose face had more of the qualities of the hatchet than of the olive branch. " Shylock Homes in?'' she demanded in a msping voice that would havo driven a better man than myself to drink if he had had to listen to it for a lifetime. - '' I ara Shylock Homes, madam," said I, rising and offering the lady a chair. " Thaiiks; I've no time to set," she answered. " It's business I'm after, not civility Are jou all you're said to bo, or just a plaia fraud like all ether men?" " That is a leading question, madam," I replied wanly. " I can't say that I'm all I'm said to be, because there are people who assert that I am a freak, the possibility of which you intimate. I judge, however, from the vivid whiteness of my conscience, which nev«: troubles me in tho slightest degree, that I am not a fakir. If you have come, however, to ask me to solve th-» mystery of self, I must decline the commission, since I have no wish to elucidate myself for the benefit of anybody." " Humph!" she retorted. " You "ha.ve" a certain amount of sagacity after all I had an idea you might be one of thosa trance idiots who go off into a spasm and take money for telling people what they see in their dreams." "You do me wrong," said I, with a short laugh merely to show that, however unusual her method of approaching me, I did not intend to take offence. " Look!" I added, turning the electric light full upon my own face, "do I look like a fraud?" "No; you don't," she answered shortly. " You've got a tolerably decent face. Rather sneaky eyes, perhaps; but on the whole you look smug enough to be a Sunday school superintendent. I think I can trust you." "Thank you," said I. "And now do sit down and tell me what I can do for you." With an ill grace the lady took the proffered chair this time, opened her reticule, and took out a card. "Mr Shylock Homes," said she, "I'm a bitterly deceived woman—or, at least, I'm beginning to think so, and I want you to find out the truth. Here is my card." I took the pasteboard, and, glancing at it casually, was astounded to see who my visitor was. The card read as follows: MRS RIP VAN WINKLE. Thursdays in January. " Well!" I ejaculated. " This is an unexpected honor,- madam. I had hardly dared hope that I should ever " '" Stick to business, Mr Homes," she snapped. "I didn't come here under the impression that you were conducting a series of five o'clock teas. What I want to know is: Will you lof>k Into ths question of my husband's wkereaLouts during that twenty years' absence of his from home." "Why—ah," I ventured, "his story has been told, Mr? Van Winkle. He was asleep up in the Catskills. He wandered off to the top of—ah—one of the peaks of that noble range and fell in with Hendrik Hudson and nis men, and " "Oh. nonsense!" cried Mrs Van Winkle, impatiently.- "They gave him knockout drops, I suppose? You "don't mean to say you believe that yam, do you, Mr Homes? If you do you are not the brilliant thing you think you are." " Well," I demurred, "it does sound improbable, but I've always taken it on faith " " And I haven't," snapped the lady. " What's more, I don't intend to. Ido intend to discover the truth, and if you want the business you can have it. If you don't, say so, and I'll worm the real story out of the old man in some other way." " The proposition attracts me," said I, after a moment's reflection. " I may be able to do you both a service. If I should restore your confidence in him " "Confidence?" she cried shrilly. "Restore my confidence in Rip Van Winkle—Lord! I never had any!" "Then why did you marry liim?" I ventured. "To get even with him," she replied. " Rip Van Winkle was a born.flirt, and he tried it once too often when he tackled me." "Have you any evidence that he was elsewhere?" "Yes," she : answered; "convincing evidence to me." " What is it?" I asked. " The fact that he told the yarn about the Catskill nap himself is enough for me. When Rip Van Winkle said he'd been to the taproom I knew he'd been to church, and vice versa. Reasoning on that line, his mere statement that he'd bees asleep out in the woods proved to me that he'd been pretty wide awake somewhere else." The lady raved on for two or three minutes in this strain, and finally stopped from sheer lack of breath.

" Very well, madam," said I, " Til take the case. Perhaps in a week I shall have something to report." Whereupon, after a few moments of commonplace conversation, she departed.

Later in the evening, at the club, while eating my dinner I observed Hendrik Hudson taking his evening meal with Christopher Columbus and Noah, on the other side of the dining room, and plunged into tin business in hand at once.

" Hello, Hudson," said I, as, after ordering my coffee served in the library, I rose to leave the room. " How is everything with you?" " Serenely lovely," he replied—he was in a genial mood, for the bouse committee had laid in a fine svpply of ales, of which the great sailor had been absorbing pretty freely. " What can I do for you?" ' " Oh, nothing much," I answered. " Some day, when you've leisure, I wish you'd introduce me to Rip Van Winkle." " Rip Van Winkle?" he repeated, " Rip Van Winkle ? Who the devil is Rip Van Winkle ?" " Why, don't you know the cliap you and your men got hold of that night up in the Catskflls and " "Oil—that old tale," laughed Hudson. " Seems to me I did hear of that, but there wasn't any truth in it. What would Ibe doing giving away srrog in the Catskill Mountains, with srood old New York not a hundred miles away? Never on your life, Shylock. That was a tale got up to injure me with the Prohibitionists."

It was quite evident that Mrs Rip Van Winkle's suspicions were quite correct. I was very sorry, too, for I had always rather liked Rip himself, from what I had read of him, and it was unpleasant to discover that he was a base deceiver after all. " I was off on a cruise with old Columbus and Captain Kidd at that time," Hudson continued, " down in the West Indies—so you see I can prove an alibi." "I can testify to that," said Columbus. " Noah, you were along, too—don't you remember? Kidd was showing us where he'd cached his hidden treasure."

"m never forget it," put in Noah. "I never was so seasick in my life, before or since."

"Oh, I don't doubt your word, Hudson," I said at this point. " I never more than halfbelieved the story anyhow. I rather thought I'd like to meet Van Winkle—that's all. He always seemed to me to have certain companionable qualities. Good night." And with this I walked on. The whole structure, of Rip Van Winkle's story had fallen to the ground at the very first touch—very much as his rifle was said to have done when, after his sleep of twenty years, he awoke and found the stock crumbling beneath his hand. There were now two things to do—look up Rip Van Winkle and win his confidence—a course that I deplored—or seek out Diedrich Knickerbocker and ask him frankly the sources of the information upon which he based his report of what really happened to Rip. I decided upon the latter plan, and after my coffee and cognac I left-the club and sauntered up

the street to call upon the distinguished historian.

Arriving at his house I found the lights streaming from every window, and from within came' shouts of laughter and other sounds of revelry. It was clear that some celebration was going on within. At the door was a caterer's waggon, and sundry supplies for immediate use were being delivered under the supervision of a flunky clad in an old Dutch costume. " What is going on here?" I asked the latter, as a case of schnapps was passed in through the basement door. " There's a meeting of tho Sons of St. Nicholas," he answered, with a laugh. " They're having a gay time of it." " I'm glad I met you," said I, slipping a gold piece into his hand. " I'm a reporter of the ' Gehenna Gazette,' and I've been sent here to get an account of this affair. Can you tell me who is present?" I took out a pad and pencil and made ready to write. " Oh—or—Peter Stuyvesant, Mr Anneke Jans, Wouter Van Twiller, Tryn Van Camp, Hendrik Kip, Jan Gerritsen, Nicholas Jansen, Rip Van Winkle, Antony Van Oorlear, Olaff de Peystor, and a dozen others—they're in such a jumble I can't make 'em out. but they're in great form, especially that old rounder Van Winkle," "Aha!" thought I. "Rip Van Winkle, eh?" It was strange that Rip should be celebrating tho virtues of Manhattan, a man who had presumably never been there. " Not they," replied the flunky. " It's the informalist gathering I ever saw. They're just swapping anecdotes, and I tell you, Mr—er " " Well, I tell you, Mr Jones," he continued, " that fellow Van Winkle is a ripper. He's drained" seventeen bumpers of schnapps, and he's out for reminiscences this night. He spent twenty years in New York once, and I've never in all my life heard anything quit© so racy as the tales he has to tell. Why, the mero manner of his getting to town was interesting enough for a historical noveL He came down from somewhere up the river as a stowaway on a lumber raft some time before the American Revolution broke out, with nothing but a dog and a musket to his name. Landed in the city, he sold the dog a dozen times, and " "How many times did he sell the dog?" I demanded. "A doz«n." said the flunky. "He'd sell him, you see, and then walk off with the money, trusting to old Schneider to come back to him. On the money thus gained he managed to live comfortably until he got a job on Bowling Green, setting up ninepins for the select people of the city, after which, in a year or two, having saved a little money, he started a taproom and chop house, which he kept for eighteen years, disappearing as suddenly as he came at the end of that time." I emphasised my remark with another gold piece, and in a few minutes, arrayed as an assistant waiter, I found myself in the brilliant dining room of Dr Diedrich Knickerbocker, filling the glass of the now loquacious Rip Van Winkle over and over again with rum and other drinkables of most excellent quality. I was not long in discovering that the flunky had not deceived me as to the nature of Rip Van Winkle's reminiscences. They were what a literary friend of mine used to call " thrillers " and " shilling shockers," and as he recounted over and over again tho lively doings of himself and his companions in New York of ancient days I must confess I found them pretty strong even for my taste, which has not been developed on a vichy and milk diet by any manner of means. A more abandoned old wretch than he could not be found in a month of Sundays in that modern Babylon they call New York, and as for tho wit of his narrations, that was attested to by the shrieks of laughter that followed close upon his periods, which twice attracted the attention of the police patrolling without. "It was a warm old town in those days," Van Winkle cried, as he finished up a tale which I have not the courage to put upon paper. " The bottomless pit up the river is an ice box alongside of dear old New York when Diedrich and I were cronies." " You kept a famous tavern, Rip," the doctor answered. "Such thing 3to eat, such things to drink, and what a company! Do you remember the night when William Van Gheel and Teunis Fyn and you and I were landed in the old Sugarhouse Gaol for painting the nose of George fJJ.'s statue red, white, and blue? Oh, those days, those days! And " "Sunday afternoons on the Battery, eh, Diedrich, when little Peggy Tienhoven and her cousin, Margaret Carstessen, were in their prime?" Rip returned. "And the picnic out on Bedloe's Island, when we stole and wore the uniforms of the two British officers who were sleeping off their night before at the taproom ? Oh, what fun we had that day. I dream of it yet. I never flirted so in my life before." " It's a good thing your wife never learned of those days, Rip," said the doctor, solemnly. " There'd have been the deuce to pay." "I have to thank you for that, sir," Rip answered. "If it hadn't been for that wild tale of the Kaaterskills you got up for me to tell when I got home I'm afraid there'd have been a peck of trouble for your Uncle Rip." And so it went on for hours. Long before the clock struck two I had enough evidence in hand, and from his own lips, to convict Rip Van Winkle, not only of desertion, but of a number of others of the most select crimes in the calendar. But it served my cause not at all, for it so happened that when the evening broke up the joviality of the parly had reached -such bounds that nothing would do but that ihe flunky and I should join in the revelry of parting, and after absorbing a delicious julep, handed me by Rip himself, I found myself one of a circle of dancing roysterers 4 tripping hand in hand around th<j table and sjnging " Here we go round the mulberry bush" in tones fit to raise the dead. Moreover, it fell also to my lot to carry Rip Van Winkle borne, thrown limp and sleeping across my shoulder, for it was clear the moment we reached the street that he was in no condition to go home alone. His lejs doubled up nnder him like so many blades of a jack knife, and in this condition I left him at his front dcor, running like a coward from the field of battle after ringing the door bell to summon whoever might have the privilege of letting him in. ■ Detective as I am, I have not the heart to betray a man I have drunk with and carried home after. Moreover, the .evidence I had was not proper to submit to a lady, even of Mrs Rip Van Winkle's advanced years. Hence it was that next day I addressed a short note to my client, resigning my commission on the ground that upon investigation I did not think I could be of any possible service to her. •