At dawn on this day, Bo Fu was already sitting in front of the fireplace in his room, and because of the latitude in England, it was very late in the morning, and Bo Fu did not bother to go to bed again, so he lay down in the rocking chair in front of the fireplace and dozed off. Unconscious fluctuations in force spread throughout the swamp, and just downstairs in the two-story inn, a small black dog stood in the bushes and looked up at the balcony of Bo Fu's room, barked softly, and then lay down to sleep.

The next day, Birfer and Sherlock Holmes actually took the same train, but in a different compartment and returned to London. This time, however, Bo Fu simply made a hotel near Baker Street his new home base, "The Headless Horseman's matter has not yet been resolved. I look forward to Mr. Holmes' new surprises. As he said this, Bo Fu was playing with a small round bead in his hand, which was what the puppy left behind before he disappeared in front of Bo Fu at dawn - it seemed to use this to thank Bo Fu ....... the "Necronomical Pearl......... I didn't expect this dog to be able to make this thing out of the soul of its prey. ”

Only three days later, Birff saw that Holmes had been frowning and thinking about something for the past three days, and heard Holmes mutter, "The other mastiff? disappearing footprints? I always felt that something was wrong......... "Birch's sorcery ensured that he could see and hear all this, and Birff did not want to find out what was going on in Holmes's head, because the Hound of the Baskervilles should end here according to the novel."

Three days later, the consulting detective at 221 Baker Street, Building B, had a new case — this time a deputy sheriff from the Highlands came in for help. "Mr. Holmes?" asked the young freckled deputy sergeant cautiously.

"How about a whiskey with soda? Yes, I'm Sherlock Holmes. The tall lanky man put his mind down for a moment. Instead, he received the deputy sheriff in front of him. He asked the other person to sit down on the couch. He sat down in his rocking chair to listen to the other man's question—but in fact he had expected it, and while the deputy sheriff was hesitating in the carriage, Holmes had already told Watson his reasoning about the visitor. Holmes already had a hunch about what the officer would say, after all, he had been paying attention to the officer's area of responsibility lately, and what was happening in the Scottish Highlands had also been noticed by him a few weeks earlier.

The officer thanked Watson gratefully for bringing the wine, took a long sip on the couch, and then began to narrate: "Mr. Holmes, surely you know about the murder that happened here recently? And while we were detaining him, another man was murdered in the room, also with his head, and we still haven't found it!"

"Sir, take another sip, and tell me the matter slowly, in detail," Holmes comforted the officer, and made his own request—the officer was so frustrated that his speech was already a little confused.

"Well, the first case happened two weeks ago. On Monday morning, local farmers drove horse-drawn wagons ready to deliver oats to the warehouse. Then he found the body of poor old Terry on the side of the road, less than fifteen yards from Hastings Forest. The corpse did not have a head. Farmer Custer was so frightened at first sight that he didn't even come back with the carriage to call the police. Instead, he jumped out of the carriage and ran wildly and shouted all the way to the village. Then at nine o'clock in the morning, I arrived at the scene" As the officer spoke, the scene of the first case was narrated.

As the officer said, it was a normal morning, and Farmer Custer found the body of another farmer in the village, Terry—at first he didn't recognize who it was, but when the police and the locals gathered around, someone recognized Terry's clothes and some of his physical features. Poor Terry's wife fainted almost when she saw the scene, and when the police woke her up and asked when she had seen Terry the last time, Mrs. Terry wept and replied that the last time she had seen Terry was before five o'clock in the morning, and Terry said that he had something to do to go to the pig farm once, and then he got out of bed and got dressed and went out, and it was this moment when she saw him again.

To be on the safe side, the officer had to harden his heart and ask the poor woman to carefully identify the body, and finally confirmed that this was Terry after leaving the house at five o'clock in the morning. The corpse lay on the side of the road about fifteen yards from Hastings Forest, parallel to the road, and footprints were found in the dirt behind the corpse's feet, which were identified as Terry's own footprints. The distance between the footprints was considerable, and the toe marks clearly indicated that Terry was running. "You mean this Terry was beheaded while running? and you searched for it, but even the police dogs couldn't find Terry's head?" Holmes interjected, and the officer nodded, "That's right, Mr. Holmes." We got the dogs, but we just couldn't find Terry's head. ”

Public opinion in the area was boiling over, this was a murder that had not been committed in many years, and it was such a strange and legendary murder case! For a while, everything was said, from Terry's wife sneaking up to cut off her husband's head, to the legendary Black Knight in Hastings Forest who cut off Terry's head, and all kinds of gringos or madmen lurking in the area to cut off people's heads.

This rumor also affected the police investigation, and the local police naturally did not believe in the folk superstition of the black knight, and Terry's wife was certainly not suspected of committing the crime - because she also got up after Terry got up, and several women saw her walking to the bullpen on the other side, and she milked the milk until everyone ran over and told her that Terry had an accident.

On the other side of Baker Street, a hotel room. Burfu sat in a rocking chair with two screens projected in front of him - they were his streamlined and streamlined water mirror technique, one of which was the Sherlock Holmes House, and the other projected a view of distant Wallachia, "Very well, Mr. Holmes, use your deduction to solve this case." Seeing that the police were still describing the discovery of the first body, Bo Fu turned his attention slightly to another picture.

Dr. Van Helsing, a rather stylish middle-aged cool man, had completed his field investigation, dug up the graves of all those who had been recorded dead at the hands of Count Dracula, and confirmed the contents of the corpses, almost all of which had been nailed into the coffins by stakes. "Actually, I think the local people are very talented, and the victims of the centuries can still remember a lot," were the words of Dr. Van Helsing to the priest who had accompanied him while consulting local literature.

"Next we're going to the Vatican, where we should have what we need. Van Helsing said to the priest. "Escariot's Thirteenth Lesson is almost the most obscure of them all, and of course you have the privilege to inquire into the information inside. The priest replied, his eyes fixed on a peculiar cross around Van Helsing's neck (to be continued......