Sherlock Holmes

Well, Mr. Bell, that strange adventure began on a stormy September evening in Baker Street many, many years ago.

All day long the wind had screamed and the rain had beaten against our windows.

Shortly after dinner, there was the old familiar jangle on our front doorbell.

And a few moments later, Mrs. Hudson ushered a distinguished visitor into the room.

As he stood there in front of the flickering firelight, I could see that he was a good-looking man and also that he was in a state of considerable excitement.

Now, Lord Manders, if you will just give us the facts.

Well, Mr. Holmes...

Three years ago, I was a passenger on that ill-fitted ship, the Sophie Anderson.

She was wrecked in a gale, and I was the only survivor.

I clung to a piece of broken spar and was washed ashore, and after that, for over two years, I lived alone on an island in the Indian Ocean.

Naturally, when the Sophie Anderson foundered, I was believed to be dead.

My young brother, Eric, who was next in line, inherited the estate and the guardianship of our uncle.

There must have been quite a lot of confusion when you arrived home this year, Lord Manders.

There was, Dr. Watson.

But not for the reason you suppose.

I landed in England to find that my brother had died last December.

He died under very peculiar circumstances.

That's why I've come to you, Mr. Holmes.

What were those circumstances?

My uncle sent Eric to a school on the Welsh Moors, not far from Cardiff.