EXTENSIVE READING
ONE THOUSAND DOLLARS
By O. Henry
By O. Henry
"One thousand dollars," repeated Lawyer Tolman, in a serious voice, "and here is the money."
Young Gillian touched the money and laughed.
"It's such a strange sum of money," he said to the lawyer. "If it had been ten thousand it would not look too much. Even fifty dollars would have been less trouble."
"You heard the reading of your uncle's will," continued Lawyer Tolman. "I do not know if you paid much attention to its details. I must remind you of one. You are required to provide us with a written report. In your report you will need to explain how you used $1,000. This was the wish of your uncle.
"I will do that," said the young man politely.
Gillian went to his club. In the club, he saw a man whose name was Old Bryson.
Old Bryson was a calm forty-year-old man. He was in a corner reading a book. When he saw Gillan coming up he laid down his book and took off his glasses.
"Old Bryson, wake up," said Gillian. "I have a funny story to tell you."
"I wish you would tell it to someone in the billiard room," said Old Bryson. "You know how I hate your stories."
"This is a better story than usual," said Gillian; "and I'm glad to tell it to you. I've just come from my late uncle's lawyers. He leaves me an even thousand dollars. Now, what can a man possibly do with a thousand dollars?"
"I thought," said Old Bryson, showing very little interest, "that the late Septimus Gillian was worth something like half a million."
"He was," answered Gillian, "and that's where the joke comes in. He's left most of his money to medical research and hospitals. Also, he’s left a few things to others. The butler and the housekeeper get a seal ring and $10 each. His nephew gets $1,000."
"You've always had plenty of money to spend," said Old Bryson.
"Yes," said Gillian.
"Any other people?" asked Old Bryson.
"No," said Gillian. "There is a Miss Hayden; she lived in his house. She's a quiet lady—musical—the daughter of somebody who was unlucky, enough to be his friend. I forgot to say that she was in on the seal ring and $10 joke, too.
Old Bryson—tell me what a fellow can do with a thousand dollars," said Gillian.
Old Bryson rubbed his glasses and smiled. And when Old Bryson smiled, Gillian knew that he intended to be more offensive than ever.
"A thousand dollars," he said, "means much or little. One man may buy a happy home with it and laugh at Rockefeller. Another could send his wife South with it and save her life. A thousand dollars would buy pure milk for one hundred babies during June, July, and August and save fifty of their lives. It would give an education to a motivated boy. You could move to a New Hampshire town and live well two years on it. You could rent Madison Square Garden for one evening with it, and talk to your listeners if you should have them."
"You did not answer my question, Old Bryson," said Gillian. I asked you to tell me what I could do with a thousand dollars."
"You?" said Bryson, with a gentle laugh. "Why, Bobby Gillian, there's only one logical thing you could do. You can buy Miss Lotta Lauriere a diamond necklace with the money, and then take yourself off to Idaho and inflict your presence upon a ranch. I advise a sheep ranch, as I have a particular dislike for sheep."
"Thanks," said Gillian, rising, "I knew I could depend on you. You've hit on the very idea. I wanted to spend all the money on one thing because I need to write a report on it."
Gillian phoned for a cab and said to the driver: "Columbine Theatre."
Miss Lotta Lauriere was busy preparing for her performance.
"Now, what is it, Bobby?’ asked Miss Lauriere. "I'm starting in two minutes."
"It won't take two minutes for me. What do you say to a little thing in the jewelry line? I can spend one thousand dollars."
"Oh, just as you say," answered Miss Lauriere. “Did you see that necklace Della Stacey had on the other night? Twenty-two hundred dollars it cost at Tiffany's."
"Miss Lauriere for the opening chorus!" cried the call boy.
Miss Lauriere left.
Gillian walked slowly to the place where his cab was waiting.
"What would you do with a thousand dollars if you had it?" he asked the driver.
"Open a restaurant," said the cab driver. "I know a place I could invest money quickly."
"Oh, no," said Gillian, "I just wanted to know your opinion. Drive until I tell you to stop."
Eight blocks down Broadway Gillian got out of the cab. A blind man sat on a stool on the sidewalk selling pencils. Gillian went out and stood before him.
"Excuse me," he said, "but would you mind telling me what you would do if you had a thousand dollars?"
"You got out of that cab that just drove up, didn't you?" asked the blind man.
"I did," said Gillian.
"I guess you are all right," said the pencil seller, "to ride in a cab by daylight. Take a look at that, if you like."
He drew a small book from his coat pocket and showed it to him. Gillian opened it and saw that it was a bank deposit book. It showed a balance of $1,785.
Gillian returned the book and got into the cab.
"I forgot something," he said. "You may drive to the law offices of Tolman & Sharp, at Broadway."
Lawyer Tolman looked at Gillian through his golden glasses.
"I beg your pardon," said Gillian, cheerfully, "but may I ask you a question? Was Miss Hayden left anything by my uncle's will besides the ring and the $10?"
"Nothing," said Mr. Tolman.
"I thank you very much, sir," said Gillian, and on he went to his cab. He gave the driver the address of his late uncle's home.
Miss Hayden was writing letters in the library. She was small and slim and clothed in black. But you would have noticed her eyes. Gillian entered the room.
"I've just come from old Tolman's," he said. "They've been going over the papers down there. They found some more money for you – as a part of the will. My uncle left you one thousand dollars. I was driving up this way, and Tolman asked me to bring you the money. Here it is. You'd better count it to see if it's right." Gillian put the money on the desk.
Miss Hayden turned white. "Oh!" she said, and again "Oh!"
Gillian half turned and looked out the window.
"I suppose, of course," he said, in a low voice, "that you know I love you."
"I am sorry," said Miss Hayden, taking up her money.
"There is no use?" asked Gillian, almost light-heartedly.
"I am sorry," she said again.
"May I write a note?" asked Gillian, with a smile. He seated himself at the big library table. She gave him paper and a pen and then went back to her desk.
Gillian wrote:
"Paid by Robert Gillian, $1,000 on account of the eternal happiness, owned by Heaven to the best and dearest woman on earth."
Gillian slipped his writing into an envelope, bowed and went away.
His cab stopped again at the offices of Tolman & Sharp.
"I have spent one thousand dollars," he said to Tolman. "And I have come to give a report on it, as I agreed." He put a white envelope on the lawyer's table. "You will find everything there – how I spent one thousand dollars."
Without touching the envelope, Mr. Tolman went to a door and called his partner, Sharp. Together, they brought a large envelope. Then Tolman began speaking.
"Mr. Gillian," he said, formally. "There was an appendix to your uncle's will. It was given to us privately, with instructions that it be not opened until you had given us a full report of how you spent $1,000. As you have fulfilled the conditions, my partner and I have read the appendix. I will explain to you what it is about.
"If you have used the $1,000 in a wise and unselfish way, you will be given $50,000. However, if you have used $1,000 in a foolish or wasteful way as you have in the past, the $50,000 will be paid to Miriam Hayden, Ward of the late Mr. Gillian, without delay.
"Now, Mr. Gillian, I will read your report of the one thousand dollars.”
Mr. Tolman reached for the envelope. Gillian was a little quicker in taking it up. He tore the account and its cover into small pieces and put them in his pocket.
"It's all right," he said, smilingly. "There isn't a bit of need to bother you with this. I lost the $1,000 on the races. Goodbye, gentlemen."
Tolman & Sharp shook their heads sadly at each other when Gillian left, for they heard him whistling happily in the lobby as he waited for the elevator.
THE COP AND THE ANTHEM
By O. Henry
(Abridged and adapted)
On his bench in Madison Square in New York, Soapy, a poor homeless man, moved nervously. It had become much colder than before. He was nervous about the coming winter, and how he would manage his life on the streets.
A dead leaf fell off a tree onto Soapy's lap. This was a message – a warning that winter was approaching. This was a message that homeless people should prepare themselves for the coming winter.
Soapy understood that the time has come to prepare for a cold winter. He needed to plan what to do next. So, he nervously moved on his bench.
Soapy didn’t have a lot of options. He was not rich, so he could not go to a warm place like Italy or Hawaii. Three months in prison on the Island was what he wanted. Three months of food and a bed and friendly company. He would be safe from cold winds and life on the street. This is what he wanted.
The rich people in New York had bought their tickets to go to warm beaches. Soapy too had to make his arrangements. On the previous night three Sunday newspapers had failed to keep him warm on the bench. He looked forward to a small, warm room in the Island prison.
Soapy, having decided to go to the Island, at once set about his plan. There were many easy ways of doing this. He needed to get arrested by the police for committing a crime. The most pleasant way to do this was to eat at an expensive restaurant. Then, when he couldn’t pay for the meal he would be handed to a policeman. A judge in court would do the rest.
Soapy left his bench and walked away from the square. He stopped at a very nice restaurant, where every night you could find the best drinks and food.
Soapy had total confidence in himself. He had shaved, and his coat was clean and he had a nice black tie. If he could reach a table in the restaurant without getting thrown out, success would be his. He would order a roasted duck, a cup of espresso and a cigar. After he finished he would say that he couldn’t pay. Then they would arrest him – the first step to getting into prison.
But as soon as Soapy entered the restaurant, the waiter noticed his dirty trousers and worn out shoes. Strong hands turned him about and pushed him out of the restaurant. There would be no duck.
Disappointed, Soapy walked away. He must think of another way of breaking the law so he could enter the nice, warm jail on the Island.
At a corner of Sixth Avenue Soapy took a stone and threw it at a shop window, breaking it into a thousand pieces. People came running around the corner. A policeman came up to Soapy and asked, "Where's the man who did that?"
"Don't you think that I might have done it?" said Soapy.
The policeman did not even consider the possibility. Men who break windows do not stay around to talk about it with the police. They usually run away as fast as they can. The policeman saw a man some distance away running to catch a taxi. He ran after the man. Soapy, with sadness in his heart, went away. He had been unsuccessful twice!
There was a cheap restaurant on the opposite side of the street. This restaurant served people who wanted to eat a lot, but had little money. It was crowded. At a table he sat and ate steak, doughnuts and a pie. When he finished he told the waiter that he didn’t have any money to pay for the food. He added:
"Now, do what you have to and call a policeman. Don't keep a gentleman waiting."
"No policeman for you," said the waiter, with a tough voice.
Two waiters threw Soapy onto the dusty sidewalk outside the restaurant. He got up slowly, and beat the dust from his clothes. The prison on the Island seemed very far away. A policeman who stood outside a pharmacy two doors away laughed and walked down the street.
Soapy continued to walk for a little while before he was ready to commit a new crime. This time the opportunity looked very simple. A young and pretty woman was standing in front of a shop window, looking at the goods inside. A large policeman was standing two meters away.
Soapy walked toward the young woman. He smiled at her, and acted in a very rude way. Soapy saw that the policeman was watching him carefully. The young woman moved away a few steps, and continued to look inside the shop window. Soapy followed her and said:
"Hey there sweetheart! Do you want to talk?"
The policeman was still looking. The young woman only needed to look at the policeman and Soapy would be on his way to the Island. The young woman faced him and, extending a hand said:
“Sure, Mike, How about you take me to a coffee shop? I wanted to speak to your earlier but the policeman was watching us."
Greatly disappointed and angry, Soapy walked past the policeman with the woman.
At the next corner Soapy left the woman and ran. He came into a district of restaurants and theaters.
Rich women and men, nicely dressed, walked around. A sudden idea came to Soapy. When he came to another policeman who was standing in front of a theater, he decided that he would try to commit the crime of “disorderly conduct” – behaving in a bad way.
He began to shout. He danced, shouted and talked wildly.
The policeman looked at him, and then turned his back to Soapy and said to a man walking by,
"It’s one of those Yale students celebrating their win in the football against Harvard. They are noisy, but they are harmless. We have been told not to arrest them."
Soapy stopped his noise. He felt disappointed again. Would a policeman never arrest him? The Island seemed like a dream that he could never arrive at.
In a small store he saw a well-dressed man lighting a cigarette. Soapy stepped inside, took the umbrella which was there on a stand and walked off with it slowly. The man who owned the umbrella followed him quickly.
"My umbrella," he said, angrily.
"Oh, is it? Well, why don't you call a policeman? I took it! Look, a policeman is standing on the corner."
The umbrella man slowed down. Soapy did the same. The policeman looked at the two men.
“Of course,” said the umbrella man—“that is—well, you know how these mistakes occur—I—if it's your umbrella I hope you'll excuse me—I picked it up this morning in a restaurant—If you recognize it as yours, why—I hope you'll—”
"Of course it's mine," said Soapy, angrily.
The other man went away, and the policeman turned away.
Soapy walked eastward. He threw the umbrella away. He hated policemen. They seemed to treat him as a king who could do no wrong.
He started walking toward Madison Square towards his bench.
But on a quiet corner Soapy stopped. He saw an old church. He saw a light through the window. An organist was playing some music. Soapy liked the music. He stopped and listened.
The moon was shining beautifully in the sky. There were no people around. There were no cars. And the music that the organist played made Soapy stop. He remembered the days when his life contained family, flowers, ambitions, friends, good thoughts and nice people.
The music made a great change occur within Soapy. He thought with shame of the terrible life he had lived over the past few years: the bad days, dead hopes and wrong decisions.
And his heart responded to this new emotion. An immediate and strong desire moved him to fight against his present lifestyle. He must change it!
He would pull himself out of his sad life. He would make a new man of himself. There was time. He was still young. He could go back to work. This beautiful and sweet organ music had changed his heart and his mind! Tomorrow he would find a job. He could get a job as a driver. He would be somebody in the world. He would—
Soapy felt a hand on his arm. He looked around into the face of a policeman.
"What are you doing here?" asked the officer.
"Nothing," said Soapy.
"Come along with me," said the policeman.
"Three months on the Island, for loitering with intent", said the judge in the Police Court the next morning.
Abridged and adapted from the original version by Dr. Algirdas Makarevicius:
The Cop and the Anthem, written by O. Henry
http://www.classicreader.com/book/1757/1/
THE GIFT OF THE MAGI
By O’Henry
(Abridged and adapted)
One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies, the smallest pieces of money. She saved the pennies by negotiating at the vegetable market. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty-seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.
There was nothing to do except fall down on the little sofa and cry. So Della did. While she was crying she thought that life was made up of tears and smiles, with more tears than smiles.
Della lived with her husband Jim in a poor flat. They rented it for eight dollars per week and Jim was paid only twenty dollars per week. That was not enough. They did not have money to buy simple things for themselves.
Della finished her crying and dried her face. She stood by the window and looked at a gray cat walking on the fence. Tomorrow would be Christmas Day, and she had only one dollar and eighty-seven cents to buy Jim a present. She had been saving every penny she could for months, and could not save more. Twenty dollars a week doesn't go far. They spent more than they had expected. There was only one dollar and eighty-seven cents to buy a present for Jim - her Jim. Many a happy hour she had spent planning for something nice for him.
There was a mirror between the windows of the room. She looked at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were shining brilliantly, but her face had lost its color within twenty seconds. Rapidly she pulled down her hair and let it fall to its full length.
There were two possessions which Della and Jim were proud of so much. One was Jim's gold watch (the old type that could hang from a chain) that had been his father's and his grandfather's. The other was Della's hair. Indeed, her hair looked very beautiful.
So now Della's beautiful hair fell about her, moving and shining like a powerful waterfall. It reached below her knee and made itself almost a piece of clothing for her. And then she did it up again nervously and quickly. She was standing and thinking for a minute, and while she was standing and thinking, a tear or two fell down on the carpet.
She quickly put on her coat and her hat, and went out into the street. She stopped outside a shop with a sign which read: "Madame Sofronie. Hair Goods of All Kinds. " She entered the shop.
"Will you buy my hair?" asked Della.
"I buy hair," said the lady. "Take your hat off and let's have a look at it."
The powerful waterfall went down.
"Twenty dollars," said Madame, lifting the mass with a skillful hand.
"Give it to me quick," said Della.
The next two hours went fast. She went to the stores for Jim's present.
She found it at last. It surely had been made for Jim and no one else. There was no other like it in any of the stores. It was a platinum chain simple and plain in design. It was perfect. It would be a perfect match for Jim’s gold watch, which could hang from it. It was like him – with great value. Twenty-one dollars they took from her for it, and she hurried home with the eighty-seven cents left to her.
When Della came home she started repairing her hair. Within forty minutes her head was covered with small curls that made her look like a schoolboy. She looked at her reflection in the mirror long, carefully, and critically.
"If Jim doesn't kill me," she said to herself, "before he takes a second look at me, he'll say I look like a schoolgirl. But what could I do--oh! What could I do with a dollar and eighty-seven cents?"
At 7 o'clock the coffee was made and the frying-pan was on the stove hot and ready to cook the dinner.
Jim was never late. Della took the chain and sat on the corner of the table near the door. Then she heard his steps on the stair, and she turned white for just a moment. She had a habit for saying little silent prayer about the simplest everyday things, and now she whispered: "Please God, make him think I am still pretty."
The door opened and Jim stepped in and closed it. He looked thin and very serious. Poor fellow, he was only twenty-two--and had to look after his family! He needed a new coat and he was without gloves.
Jim stopped inside the door. His eyes were fixed upon Della. There was an expression in his eyes that she could not read. This worried her. It was not anger, nor surprise, nor terror, nor any of the feelings that she had been prepared for. He simply looked at her directly with a strange expression on his face.
Della stood up and went to him.
"Jim, darling," she cried, "don't look at me that way. I had my hair cut off and sold because I couldn't have lived through Christmas without giving you a present. It'll grow out again. I just had to do it. My hair grows very fast. Say ‘Merry Christmas!’ Jim, and let's be happy. You don't know what a nice -- what a beautiful, nice gift I've got for you."
"You've cut off your hair?" asked Jim, slowly and carefully, as if his brain had not worked hard enough to accept the facts.
"Cut it off and sold it," said Della. "Don’t you like me just as well, anyhow? I’m me without my hair, right?" I’m the same Della as I was before.
Jim looked about the room in a strange way.
"You say your hair is gone?" he said.
"You needn't look for it," said Della. "It's sold, I tell you--sold and gone, too. Be good to me, because I did it for you. Maybe the hairs of my head were numbered," she went on with sudden serious sweetness, "but nobody could ever count my love for you. Shall I start cooking dinner, Jim?"
Jim took a package from his coat pocket and threw it upon the table.
"Don't make any mistake about me, Dell," he said. "I don't think there's anything in the world that could make me like my girl any less. But if you'll open that package you will see why I was silent when I entered the room."
Della’s white fingers quickly opened the package. And then she gave a scream of joy; and then – tears; and Jim was trying to calm her.
Inside the package were beautiful combs made of expensive jewels. The combs that she had always wanted to have. She had seen these combs in a window of an expensive Broadway store.
She held them close to her heart. Then she looked up at Jim with a smile and said, "My hair grows so fast, Jim!"
And then Della jumped up like a little burned cat and cried, "Oh, oh!"
Jim had not yet seen his beautiful present. She gave it to him with a happy smile on her face. The chain looked so bright and attractive.
"Isn't it great, Jim? I looked for it everywhere. You'll have to look at the time a hundred times a day now. Give me your watch. I want to see how it looks on it."
Instead of obeying, Jim sat down on the sofa, put his hands under the back of his head and smiled.
"Dell," said he, "let's put our Christmas presents away and keep them for some time. They're too nice to use just at present. I sold the watch to get the money to buy your combs. And now, let’s start cooking dinner."
Wise men brought gifts to the Baby Jesus. They started the tradition of giving Christmas presents. Being wise, their gifts were no doubt wise ones too. And here I have told you the amazing story of two foolish children in a flat who unwisely sold the greatest treasures of their home. However, in many ways these two young people were also wise – each gave what they treasured most for the one they most loved.
Abridged and adapted from the original version by Dr. Algirdas Makarevicius:
Original version: The Gift of the Magi, by O'Henry
http://www.eastoftheweb.com/short-stories/UBooks/GifMag.shtml
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND
By Arthur Conan Doyle
(Abridged and adapted)
One early morning the famous detective Mr. Sherlock Holmes woke up his friend Dr. Watson. He told him that a lady whose name was Helen Stoner had come to see him. She looked very unhappy and needed some serious help. She told them the following story.
Helen had become engaged a month ago. Her parents had died and she was living with her stepfather Grimesley Roylott at Stoke Moran. Grimesley belonged to a family that had once been rich. But after a few years his family was no longer rich.
Grimesley was a cruel man. He had worked as a doctor in India for a few years. One day he beat his servant to death. He was sent to prison for that. When Grimesley came out of prison, he decided to go back to England. He brought with him two pets, a wild cat and a monkey.
Helen had a twin sister. Her name was Julia. She died two years ago, just after she was engaged. Nobody knew why she died. The reason of her death was still a mystery. On the night she died, she went to Helen’s bedroom and talked with her for a long time. As Julia had recently become engaged, she had so many things to talk about with her sister.
It was already late evening when Julia came back to her room. Just before leaving, Julia asked Helen if she had ever heard a whistle at night. For several nights, a whistling sound had awakened her. Helen was a heavy sleeper, and she said she had not heard it.
After Julia left her sister's room, she entered her own bedroom and locked the door. After a few minutes, Julia began shouting loudly. Helen went out into the corridor. When she was leaving her room, she heard a low whistle and a metallic sound.
Julia went out into the corridor. She was feeling terrible pain. Before she died, she shouted: "It was the band, the speckled band!". Then she died.
The police came but they did not find out anything. Nobody could have entered the room as Julia had locked the door from the inside. Helen thought that Julia had died of fear.
After her sister’s death, her stepfather decided to make some repairs in Helen’s bedroom. So Helen had to sleep in the same room where her sister had died. During the night, Helen heard the same whistle that her sister had heard before her death. She quickly got dressed and came to see Sherlock Holmes.
After listening to Helen’s story, Sherlock Holmes decided to go and to see the house where Julia died. He went to the house with his friend Dr. Watson. When at the house Sherlock Holmes noticed that Helen's room did not need any repairs. He thought that the repairs were an excuse to move Helen into her sister's old bedroom.
Sherlock Holmes also noticed that Julia's bedroom had a ventilator in the wall between her room and her stepfather’s room. In addition, there was a satin rope that led from the ventilator to the bed. Sherlock Holmes noticed that the ventilator and the rope were quite new, and had been put there quite recently, most probably just before the death of Julia. He also noticed another interesting thing. The bed was fixed to the floor. It could not be moved. All these things seemed to be very strange to Sherlock Holmes.
Sherlock Holmes thought that the real reason for the rope and the ventilator was to allow something dangerous to go from Grimesley’s room through the ventilator to the bed and kill the person sleeping there. He thought that the rope was made for a snake to move up and down. As Grimesley had a few pets - a wild cat and a monkey - he might have a snake too – perhaps a poisonous snake.
In nearby Grimesley’s room Sherlock Holmes noticed a safe and a dog-whip with an unusual loop tied in it. He thought that Grimesley might keep the snake in the safe and use the dog-whip to control the snake when it came out of the safe.
Before evening came, Sherlock Holmes told Helen to lock herself into Julia's bedroom and to tell her stepfather that she was ill. When her stepfather went to bed, she communicated this to Holmes and Dr. Watson by opening the window – they were waiting for this signal in the garden of the house. Then she silently left Julia's bedroom to spend the night in her own room. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson then got into Julia’s room through the window and waited in the darkness.
They were sitting and waiting in the dark room for a long time. Suddenly they heard a hissing sound. And then they heard a whistle. Sherlock Holmes, who was sitting next to the bed, got up, lit a match, and started beating something with his cane. Then, after a short time they heard a terrible cry in the room next to the room they were in.
When Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson entered the room, they saw Helen’s stepfather, Grimesley, dead on the floor. A speckled snake was coiled about his head. It was a very poisonous snake. When Sherlock Holmes had beaten the snake with his cane, the snake had become very angry. It returned to Grimesley’s room through the ventilator and bit its master.
Sherlock Holmes used the dog-whip to return the snake to the safe.
Helen did not want to tell the police about what happened. She did not want people to know about this criminal case. So, Sherlock Holmes did not tell the police what had happened. The police believed that Grimesley had died while playing with a dangerous pet.
Sherlock Holmes explained to Watson that Grimesley had trained the snake to come when he whistled, and by giving it milk as a reward when it followed his orders. If the snake did not bite the girl, he called it back by a whistle and tried again the following night. The metallic sound that Helen had heard on the night of Julia's death had come from the door of the safe. When Grimesley put the snake back into the safe and shut the door of the safe, a metal sound was heard.
Sherlock Holmes also found out why the stepfather killed Julia, and was trying to kill Helen. After consulting with lawyers he found that each sister was to receive 250 pounds from Grimesley when she got married. This meant that Grimesley would lose 500 pounds if both of his stepdaughters got married. Grimesley’s greed had been the reason for killing Julia, and trying to kill Helen.
The above story was abridged and adapted from the original version by Dr. Algirdas Makarevicius
Original version: The Adventure of the Speckled Band, by Arthur Conan Doyle
https://sherlock-holm.es/stories/pdf/a4/1-sided/spec.pdf