Open Sesame

This story may be a comedy or a tragedy. It drove one man insane, injured me, and brought the wrath of the law upon another. But there is still a sense of comedy in it. Well, let readers judge for themselves. I remember this date very clearly, because it happened in the same month that Holmes refused the knighthood. He was going to be knighted because of his meritorious service. I may write about this meritorious service one day in the future. I mention the knighthood only in passing, because as a collaborator I should be cautious and avoid all rashness. However, this incident made me remember the above-mentioned date, which was at the end of June 1902, shortly after the end of the South African War. Holmes lay in bed for several days, as was his habit from time to time, but one morning he rose from his bed with a large paper document in his hand and a sardonic smile in his stern gray eyes. "Brother Watson, here's a great opportunity for you to make a fortune," he said. "Have you ever heard of the name Gary Deb?" I admit I haven't heard of it. "If you could catch a Garridb, you could make a fortune." "Why?" "Then it's a long story—and a bit fanciful. I don't think there's anything so new in the complex human problems we've studied. This guy is coming to take our questions soon, so I won't say much about it until he arrives, but it's a surname we need to look up." The phone book is on the table next to me. Without any hope, I opened the book and flipped through it. But what surprised me was that there was this strange surname where it should have been. I shouted triumphantly. "Here! Holmes, there!" He took the book over. "N-Garydb," he read, "136 Little Ryder Street, West End. Sorry, Watson, this may disappoint you, but this is the writer. We need to find another Gardb to match him." Just as he was talking, Mrs. Hudson came in holding a tray with a business card on it. I took the film and took a look. "Here it is!" I exclaimed in amazement. "These are the initials of a different name. John Gary Deb, attorney, Mooreville, Kansas, USA." Holmes smiled as soon as he saw the card. "I think you will have to find another one, Watson," he said. "This one is also part of the plan, but I didn't expect him to come this morning. But anyway, he can tell us a lot of things I need to know." After a while, he came in. The lawyer, Mr. John Gary Deb, was a short, strong man with a round, well-complexioned, neatly shaved face, like the characteristics of many American businessmen. His overall image is plump and rather boyish, and he gives the impression of a young man with a good smile. His eyes are striking. I have rarely seen a pair of eyes that reflect the inner life so brightly, so alertly, so quickly reflecting every change of thought. His accent was American, but not weird. "Who is Mr. Holmes?" He looked back and forth between us. "Yes, your picture does look very much like you, Mr. Holmes, if I may be so bold. As far as I know, my namesake wrote you a letter, is that correct?" "Please sit down and talk," said Holmes. "I think I have a lot to discuss with you." He picked up the stack of writing paper. "You are Mr. John Garridob mentioned in this document. But you have been in England for a long time, haven't you?" "What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?" I seemed to see a sudden suspicion in his expressive eyes. "Your clothes are all British." Gary Deb forced a smile. "I had read about your techniques in books, Mr. Holmes, but I had no idea I would be the subject of a study. How did you figure it out?"