A Hat and a Goose   It was two days after Christmas. I decided to visit my friend Sherlock Holmes, the famous private detective.    When I entered the sitting-room, Holmes was lying on the sofa. He was smoking his pipe. Beside the sofa was a chair. A hat was hanging from the back of the chair. The hat looked old and dirty.    Holmes was staring at the hat.

’No, Watson,’ said Holmes. ’I’m glad you’ve come. Look at this hat. It’s very interesting.’ 

’Why is it interesting?’ I asked. ’Who does the hat belong to?’ 

’I don’t know?’ replied Holmes. ’But Peterson, the porter who looks after this apartment, found it. He also found a goose with the hat.’ 

’A hat and a goose!’ I cried. ’How strange. How did Peterson find these things?’ 

’The night before Christmas,’ Holmes said, ’Peterson went to a party. After the party, he walked home along Tottenham Court Road. A tall man was walking in front of him. This man was carrying a large, white goose over his shoulder. 

’Suddenly,’ Holmes continued, ’a group of rough young men appeared. They tried to attack the tall man. Perhaps they wanted to steal the goose. The tall man raised his walking-stick.

But the stick hit a shop window behind him. The broken glass fell on the pavement with a loud crash.’ 

’The tall man became frightened,’ Holmes went on. ’He dropped the goose and ran away. Peterson went towards the young men. When they saw him, they also ran away. Perhaps they thought Peterson was a policeman.’ 

’What did Peterson do then?’ I asked. 

’He brought the hat and the goose to me on Christmas morning,’ replied Holmes. ’A label was tied to the goose’s leg. This label said “For Mrs Henry Baker”. And the initials “H.B.” were inside the hat.’ 

’So the owner of the hat must be Mr Henry Baker,’ I said. ’And the goose was probably a present for his wife. By the way, Holmes – where is the goose?’  ’Peterson and his family are eating it now,’ Holmes replied. Suddenly the door opened and a man rushed in. It was Peterson. He was very excited. 

’The goose; Mr Holmes! The goose!’ he cried.  

A Strange Mystery

We stared at Peterson in astonishment. 

’What’s happened to the goose?’ asked Holmes. 

’Look, sir!’ said Peterson. ’See what my wife has found inside the goose.’ 

Peterson held out his hand. In the palm of his hand, I saw a beautiful, blue jewel. The jewel shone and sparkled with brilliant lights. 

’What is it Holmes?’ I asked. ’Is it a diamond?’ Holmes leant forward excitedly. 

’No, Watson,’ he said. ’It isn’t a diamond. It’s the Blue Carbuncle.’ 

’The Blue Carbuncle!’ I said. ’What’s that?’ 

’A very famous, unusual jewel,’ replied Holmes. ’It belongs to a rich lady, the Countess of Morcar. But it was stolen last week.’ 

Holmes got up and went over to his desk. He looked in a drawer and found a newspaper. The newspaper was five days old. 

’Read this,’ said Holmes.

JEWEL ROBBERY AT THE HOTEL COSMOPOLITAN

 
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