“I have a window open,” said he.
“It is a mercy that you are on the side of the force, and not againstit, Mr. Holmes,” remarked the inspector, as he noted the clever wayin which my friend had forced back the catch. “Well, I think thatunder the circumstances we may enter without an invitation.”
One after the other we made our way into a large apartment,which was evidently that in which Mr. Melas had found himself.
The inspector had lit his lantern, and by its light we could see thetwo doors, the curtain, the lamp, and the suit of Japanese mail ashe had described them. On the table lay two glasses, and emptybrandy-bottle, and the remains of a meal.
“What is that?” asked Holmes, suddenly.
We all stood still and listened. A low moaning sound was comingfrom somewhere over our heads. Holmes rushed to the door andout into the hall. The dismal noise came from upstairs. He dashedup, the inspector and I at his heels, while his brother Mycroftfollowed as quickly as his great bulk would permit.
Three doors faced up upon the second floor, and it was fromthe central of these that the sinister sounds were issuing, sinkingsometimes into a dull mumble and rising again into a shrill whine.
It was locked, but the key had been left on the outside. Holmesflung open the door and rushed in, but he was out again in aninstant, with his hand to his throat.
“It’s charcoal,” he cried. “Give it time. It will clear.”
Peering in, we could see that the only light in the room camefrom a dull blue flame which flickered from a small brass tripodin the centre. It threw a livid, unnatural circle upon the floor,while in the shadows beyond we saw the vague loom of two figureswhich crouched against the wall. From the open door there reekeda horrible poisonous exhalation which set us gasping and coughing.
Holmes rushed to the top of the stairs to draw in the fresh air, andthen, dashing into the room, he threw up the window and hurledthe brazen tripod out into the garden.
“We can enter in a minute,” he gasped, darting out again. “Whereis a candle? I doubt if we could strike a match in that atmosphere.
Hold the light at the door and we shall get them out, Mycroft,now!”
With a rush we got to the poisoned men and dragged them outinto the well-lit hall. Both of them were blue-lipped and insensible,with swollen, congested faces and protruding eyes. Indeed, sodistorted were their features that, save for his black beard andstout figure, we might have failed to recognize in one of them theGreek interpreter who had parted from us only a few hours beforeat the Diogenes Club. His hands and feet were securely strappedtogether, and he bore over one eye the marks of a violent blow. Theother, who was secured in a similar fashion, was a tall man in the laststage of emaciation, with several strips of sticking-plaster arrangedin a grotesque pattern over his face. He had ceased to moan as welaid him down, and a glance showed me that for him at least our aidhad come too late. Mr. Melas, however, still lived, and in less than anhour, with the aid of ammonia and brandy I had the satisfaction ofseeing him open his eyes, and of knowing that my hand had drawnhim back from that dark valley in which all paths meet.
It was a simple story which he had to tell, and one which didbut confirm our own deductions. His visitor, on entering hisrooms, had drawn a life-preserver from his sleeve, and had soimpressed him with the fear of instant and inevitable death thathe had kidnapped him for the second time. Indeed, it was almostmesmeric, the effect which this giggling ruffian had producedupon the unfortunate linguist, for he could not speak of him savewith trembling hands and a blanched cheek. He had been takenswiftly to Beckenham, and had acted as interpreter in a secondinterview, even more dramatic than the first, in which the twoEnglishmen had menaced their prisoner with instant death if hedid not comply with their demands. Finally, finding him proofagainst every threat, they had hurled him back into his prison, andafter reproaching Melas with his treachery, which appeared fromthe newspaper advertisement, they had stunned him with a blowfrom a stick, and he remembered nothing more until he found usbending over him.
And this was the singular case of the Grecian Interpreter, theexplanation of which is still involved in some mystery. We wereable to find out, by communicating with the gentleman who hadanswered the advertisement, that the unfortunate young ladycame of a wealthy Grecian family, and that she had been on a visitto some friends in England. While there she had met a youngman named Harold Latimer, who had acquired an ascendancyover he and had eventually persuaded her to fly with him. Herfriends, shocked at the event, had contented themselves withinforming her brother at Athens, and had then washed theirhands of the matter. The brother, on his arrival in England, hadimprudently placed himself in the power of Latimer and of hisassociate, whose name was Wilson Kemp—a man of the foulestantecedents. These two, finding that through his ignorance of thelanguage he was helpless in their hands, had kept him a prisoner,and had endeavored by cruelty and starvation to make him signaway his own and his sister’s property. They had kept him in thehouse without the girl’s knowledge, and the plaster over the facehad been for the purpose of making recognition difficult in caseshe should ever catch a glimpse of him. Her feminine perception,however, had instantly seen through the disguise when, on theoccasion of the interpreter’s visit, she had seen him for the firsttime. The poor girl, however, was herself a prisoner, for there wasno one about the house except the man who acted as coachman,and his wife, both of whom were tools of the conspirators. Findingthat their secret was out, and that their prisoner was not to becoerced, the two villains with the girl had fled away at a few hours’