summary of the adventure of three garridebs
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Holmes and Watson receive a letter from Nathan who was contacted by John. John discloses that he is searching for three Garridebs. He is one, and Nathan is another. John needs to find a third. Who better to help them search for the third Garrideb than Sherlock Holmes (and Watson, of course)? Nathan sends John to the duo.
Holmes and Watson meet John. John explains that this whole situation begins with A.H., who spent his life buying up land. As John suggests: ''He had no kith nor kin--or, if he had, I never heard of it. But he took a kind of pride in the queerness of his name.'' What's a namesake-proud man do with his property when he is deceased? Well, he challenges other namesakes. Of A.H. and the Garrideb challenge, John explains, ''His property was divided into three parts, and I was to have one on condition that I found two Garridebs who would share the remainder. It's five million dollars for each. . .but we can't lay a finger on it until we all three stand in a row.'' Easy, right? Not entirely.
John has searched far and wide, through directories and with advertisements, for the other Garridebs, finally finding and meeting Nathan. But, he's still searching for the third. When the men's meeting ends, Holmes suggests: ''There have been no advertisements in the agony columns. . . .What is his game, then, and what motive lies behind this preposterous search for Garridebs?'' Good question, Holmes.
Holmes and Watson meet with the second Garrideb, Nathan. Ironically, as they are chatting, John rushes into Nathan's home. Waving a pamphlet, he gushes, ''I had opened up inquiries in Birmingham. . . and my agent there has sent me this advertisement from a local paper. We must hustle and put the thing through. . . you will see him in his office to-morrow afternoon at four o'clock.'' That man is Howard, the third Garrideb. What a nicely solved mystery. But, wait, Nathan rarely leaves his home. Will this coerce him? Is the mystery solved?
It does, and it's not. Nathan arranges his travels. John, however, will remain in London and, to pass his time, he asks to spend the afternoon in Nathan's house to peruse his well-labeled and unique oddity collection. Nathan, a man of collective pride, deems this to be fine. Questioning anything yet? If you think that Nathan has something of value in his collection, he does not. Maybe, it is just a tale of serendipitous fortune after all. Not if Holmes and Watson have anything to do with it.
After all, the oddities are well-labeled and unique, and John would not need Nathan's presence. Nathan, a man of collective pride, deems this to be fine and gives appropriate instructions to allow the house agent to let him in. Questioning anything yet? If you think that Nathan has something of value in his collection, he does not. Maybe, it is just a tale of serendipitous fortune after all. Not if Holmes and Watson have anything to do with it.
It was a whimsical thing that brought Holmes out of his bed, where he had stayed for the past several days. Not much of a challenge, on the surface — “Find a male adult named ‘Garrideb.'” Actually, three adult males with this improbable surname were required, but two were already at hand. All that stood between these two and a one-third share of fifteen million dollars was the lack of a third namesake, or so attorney John Garrideb’s story ran.
In a few minutes, the Mâitre de Chasse will sound the great hunting-horn and follow the Hounds in pursuit of a wily fox. This fox is not an ordinary one — he is a known killer. The trail will lead from Topeka, Kansas to the London home of an eccentric collector of all kinds of artifacts and at the end, even the redoubtable Watson will fall wounded by the quarry.
“Why,” said Nathan Garrideb, “I shall be the Hans Sloane of my age!” I fear that not everyone knows about Sir Hans Sloane (1660-1753), “The Great Collector” whose botanical and entymological specimens are housed in Britain’s Natural History Museum to this day. Sir Hans’ tastes and acquisitions were as far-ranging as his intellectual curiosity could take him, and in his time, he contributed mightily to mankind’s knowledge of the natural sciences. There is another Sherlockian connection to Sir Hans: “The Hans Sloane of My Age” was the Irregular Investiture of the late, beloved John Bennett Shaw.
This week’s story is a brief one as the adventures go, and it is a story in which there are no winners save perhaps the much-maligned C.I.D. of the London police force. Consider: Holmes got no fee; Watson was wounded (albeit superficially); “John Garrideb” a.k.a. Killer Evans went back to prison; and poor old Nathan Garrideb was consigned to a nursing home. With respect to the latter, a person with such catholic tastes and inquisitive mind surely deserved a more kindly fate.