About three weeks before his death, they brought to him a rather strange unknown flower from some incredibly distant and wild country. It was Orchid. English botanists considered it was a new unknown in Europe plant. No one in Europe or America has ever seen such a flower. Dr. Glume put the Orchid in his study and admired it for days, waiting for the time of its flowering.
It blossomed the very day he died. The secretary found him dead on the floor near the window, on which this Orchid stood with flowers of strange shape and incredible, unusual beauty.
The Secretary called the doctor and the police. I ran the investigation. I confess that this Orchid had a hypnotic effect on me. I was looking at the flower, and it really scared me. After questioning the tenants, I turned to the Botanical reference books, many of which stood on the bookshelves of the deceased. And I read that, according to the references of travelers who have visited exotic lands, there are species of orchids, the aroma of which causes death.
Then there was a new trouble, which fully confirmed my fears that the death of Dr. Glume is caused by the flower. Coroner Stapleton, as looking at the flower, sniffed it and fell dead! The second body in this house! The Orchid was clearly deadly thing… I say, after the incident, I was afraid to approach the flower closer than three yards. Actually, I’m still afraid of orchids. Yes, Mr. Holmes and Mr. Watson, it may sound silly, but I’m afraid of orchids. If you had two corpses lying in front of your eyes, dead because of smelling flowers, I think you would understand me…”
Inspector Lestrade paused, gazing thoughtfully at the fire, and sipping his brandy.
“Well, well, well,” I said, cause the inspector’s terrible story really scared me. “Can a flower really kill?”
“A very interesting story,” said Holmes from his chair. “So, Inspector, did the Orchid really kill those people?”
“No doubt,” answered Lestrade. “That’s right: the Orchid killed those people…”
“However,” he continued after a moment, pouring himself another brandy from a large decanter, “we need, of course, clarity. Flower is a killer. But it had an accomplice, if I may say so. As you know, Mr. Holmes, I’m an old fox. There were some people who wanted to create the impression that the death was occurred by accident, because of careless handling of a poisonous plant. And I was about to believe it. But, as a careful person and a doubting man (the other on my place would believed it), I sent the flower to research it in Research Department, and began to collect information about the doctor and his three roommates.
As it turned out, all three had reasons to have Dr. Glume dead. The doctor made a will, divided all his stuff between secretary Penny, Colonel Badham, a servant Host and the Botanical Museum of London, where, up to the will, a flowers collection had to go. So, the situation was that Dr. Glume was going to order another 50 such orchids. But it would cost him an astronomical sum of money, the sum that would ruin Dr. Glume immediately after this purchase. He, a fanatical collector, was not afraid of such a fate – it was more important to get the passionately desired orchids. But three of his roommates, assistants and heirs quite clearly understood that in this case there will be no inheritance – they will not receive a penny. So there was a motive for the murder.
By the time I learned all this, the results of the analysis of the flower came. It turned out that the flower was filled with extremely poisonous powder – some cyanide, if I’m not mistaken. This killed Dr. Glume and coroner Stapleton. The doctor’s house was searched, and in the study of Dr. Glume we found a can of cyanide, which, as it turned out, Dr. Glume used in his experiments. The can, by the way, had a large wide stopper, which used to be opened, apparently, using teeth. We found rubber gloves, one of them had traces of poison.
All of these allowed us to find the killer. One of those suspects.”
Inspector Lestrade chatted the contents of his glass and finished his brandy in one gulp.
“Now, tell me, dear master of deduction,” he said to Holmes. “Who was the murderer?”
Holmes leaned back in his chair and answered, smiling:
“You are a little cunning, my friend. You, for example, did not tell us which glove had traces of poison – right or left. Nor did you provide any other information that you may have had at your disposal. Nevertheless, I am ready to answer your question and name the murderer. And you, Watson?”
“Me?” Holmes’ question took me by surprise. I’ve been thinking a little. “Yeah, I think I know the killer’s name, too. It’s not hard at all,” I waved to Lestrade. “Task for simpletons.”
Lestrade scratched his nose skeptically and looked at me with interest.
“Well, then get it out, Dr. Watson.”
ANSWER:
“It’s simple,” I explained. “The cork from the can of poison was opened with teeth. It is clear that Dr. Glume, knowing the danger of this substance, was unlikely to resort to the help of the teeth. I think miss Penny had to use her teeth; she’s a woman in the first place, and women, as you know, are weaker than men. And the most important thing is that she had long nails. And it is hard to open tight can when one has long nails. That’s why she had to use her teeth.”
I looked triumphantly at my friends: as you can see, I am also able to find the truth in the interweaving of mysteries.
But contrary to my expectations, Lestrade shook his head in disappointment, and Holmes, clapping his hands, said:
“Bravo, my friend! You think sensibly, though your reasoning is not entirely accurate. It’s really simple. You mentioned long nails of miss Penny, although forgot her lipstick. Her lips would had put traces on the cork. I don’t think it was her. But Colonel Badham is weak enough to pull the cork out with his hands. I am sure that the examination was to show that the tooth print on the cork belongs to him. Isn’t that so, Inspector?”
Inspector Lestrade scratched his head:
“Actually, there was no examination of the tooth print on the cork.”
“How did you figure it out then?” Holmes was surprised. “How did you discovered this case?”
“About the cork examination, it was not done,” the voice of Lestrade sounded awkward. “I, actually, proceeded from the fact that traces of poison were found on the left glove. And among the suspects was a Lefty only one – Colonel Badham. He confessed as soon as he was arrested.”
“That’s strange,” said Holmes, angrily puffing on his pipe. “It turns out that if the killer had not been left-handed, the crime would not have been discovered.”
“But it was discovered!” inspector Lestrade said stubbornly.
We stopped talking. Lestrade was a wrong person to argue with.
7. White Bird
“Yes, Mr. Holmes!” Lestrade, standing on the threshold of our room, waved the paper in his hand instead of greeting. “Here’s a new riddle for you! I wonder what your analytical mind will say?”
“Very glad to see you, Inspector. Especially so excited,” Holmes put the violin away, which he had been playing all Sunday morning. “Show me what you’ve got.”
“The Devonshire Post, Mr. Holmes,” Lestrade gave my friend the