The Cardboard Box

A walk of five minutes took us to Cross Street, where Miss Cushing resided. It was a very long street of two-story brick houses, neat and prim, with whitened stone steps and little groups of aproned women gossiping at the doors. Half-way down, Lestrade stopped and tapped at a door, which was opened by a small servant girl. Miss Cushing was sitting in the front room, into which we were ushered. She was a placid-faced woman with large, gentle eyes, and grizzled hair curving down over her head on each side. A worked antimacassar lay upon her lap and a basket of coloured silks stood upon a stool beside her.
"They are in the outhouse, those dreadful things", said she, as Lestrade entered. "I wish that you would take them away altogether."   "So I shall, Miss Cushing. I only kept them here until my friend, Mr Holmes, should have seen them in your presence."
"Why in my presence, sir?"
"In case he wished to ask any questions."
"What is the use of asking me questions, when I tell you that I know nothing whatever about it?"
  "Quite so, madam", said Holmes, in his soothing way. "I have no doubt that you have been annoyed more than enough already over this business."
   "Indeed, I have, sir. I am a quiet woman and lead a retired life. It is something new for me to see my name in the papers and to find the police in my house. I won't have those things in there, Mr Lestrade. If you wish to see them you must go to the outhouse."
It was a small shed in the narrow garden that ran down behind the house. Lestrade went in and brought out a yellow cardboard box, with a piece of brown paper and some string. We sat down on a bench by the path as Holmes investigated the articles that Lestrade had handed to him.
"The string is exceedingly interesting", he remarked, holding it up to the light and sniffing at it. "What do you make of this string, Lestrade?"
"It has been tarred."
"Precisely. It is a piece of tarred twine. You have also, no doubt, remarked that Miss Cushing has cut it with a scissors, as can be seen by the double fray on each side. This is of importance."
"I cannot see the importance", said Lestrade.
"The importance is in the fact that the knot is left intact, and that this knot is of a peculiar character."
"It is very neatly tied. I had already made a note of that", said Lestrade, complacently.
"So much for the string, then", said Holmes, smiling; "now for the box wrapper. Brown paper, with a distinct smell of coffee. What, did you not observe it? I think there can be no doubt about it. Address printed in rather straggling characters: 'Miss S. Cushing, Cross Street, Croydon.' Done with a broad, pointed pen, probably a J, and with very inferior ink. The word Croydon has been spelt originally with an i, which has been changed to y. The parcel was directed, then, by a man - the printing is distinctly masculine - of limited education and unacquainted with the town of Croydon. So far, so good! The box is a yellow, half-pound honeydew box, with nothing distinctive save two thumb marks at the left bottom corner. It is filled with rough salt of the quality used for preserving hides and other of the coarser commercial purposes, And imbedded in it are these very singular enclosures."
He took out the two ears as he spoke, and examined them minutely while Lestrade and I held our breath. Then he leaned back and remarked: "You have remarked, of course, that the ears are not a pair."
"Yes, of course", said Lestrade.
"And no doubt you furthermore perceived that both ears are pointed."
"Yes", said Lestrade with a puzzled frown.
"Furthermore, you naturally noted that the thumb marks are those of a Dwarf. Not only are the marks remarkably small if they were the imprint of a human, but the whorls are of a kind that can only be found among members of that race."
Lestrade leaned forward with an exclamation of surprise.
"And finally", said Holmes and turned over the box, "you will notice that there is a stamp on this box saying: 'A gift from Moria'." He leaned back and regarded Lestrade steadily, while a singular smile established itself on his face. "Now, Inspector, will you be so good as to inform me what this reveals to us?"

Öjevind Lång.

		Holmes
Sherlock