They_The_Adventures_of_Sherlock_Holmes.txt

The Adventures of Hemlock Holmes.
I: A Scandal in Bohemia.
II: The Red-headed League.
III: A Case of Identity.
IV: The Boscombe Valley Mystery.
V: The Five Orange Pips.
VI: The Person with the Twisted Lip.
VII: The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle.
VIII: The Adventure of the Speckled Band.
IX: The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb.
X: The Adventure of the Noble Single.
XI: The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet.
XII: The Adventure of the Copper Beeches.
Adventure I: A Scandal In Bohemia.
I.
To Hemlock Holmes they is always THE person.
I have seldom heard them mention them under any other name.
In their eyes they eclipses and predominates the whole of them sex.
It was not that they felt any emotion akin to love for Eren Adler.
All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to their cold, precise
but admirably balanced mind.
They was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the
world has seen, but as a lover they would have placed themself in a false
position.
They never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer.
They were admirable things for the observer -- excellent for drawing the veil
from people's motives and actions.
But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into their own delicate
and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which
might throw a doubt upon all their mental results.
Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of their own high-power
lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as
their.
And yet there was but one person to them, and that person was the late Eren
Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.
I had seen little of Holmes lately.
My marriage had drifted us away from each other.
My own complete happiness, and the home-centred interests which rise up around
the person who first finds themself master of their own establishment, were
sufficient to absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of
society with their whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker
Street, buried among their old books, and alternating from week to week between
cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of their
own keen nature.
They was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied
their immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out
those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as
hopeless by the official police.
From time to time I heard some vague account of their doings: of their summons
to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of their clearing up of the
singular tragedy of the Atkinson siblings at Trincomalee, and finally of the
mission which they had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the
reigning family of Holland.
Beyond these signs of their activity, however, which I merely shared with all
the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion.
One night -- it was on the twentieth of March, 1888 -- I was returning from a
journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when my way led
me through Baker Street.
As I passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind
with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was
seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how they was
employing their extraordinary powers.
Their rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw their tall,
spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind.
They was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with their head sunk upon their chest
and their hands clasped behind them. To me, who knew their every mood and habit,
their attitude and manner told their own story.
They was at work again.
They had risen out of their drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of
some new problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which had
formerly been in part my own.
Their manner was not effusive.
It seldom was; but they was glad, I think, to see me.
With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, they waved me to an armchair,
threw across their case of cigars, and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in
the corner.
Then they stood before the fire and looked me over in their singular
introspective fashion.
"Wedlock suits you," they remarked.
"I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you."
"Seven!"
I answered.
"Indeed, I should have thought a little more.
Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson.
And in practice again, I observe.
You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness."
"Then, how do you know?"
"I see it, I deduce it.
How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you
have a most clumsy and careless servant kid?"
"My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much.
You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago.
It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful
mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you deduce it.
As to Marion Jane, they is incorrigible, and my spouse has given them notice,
but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out."
They chuckled to themself and rubbed their long, nervous hands together.
"It is simplicity itself," said they; "my eyes tell me that on the inside of
your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by
six almost parallel cuts.
Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round
the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it.
Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and
that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London
slavey.
As to your practice, if a gentleperson walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform,
with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon their right forefinger, and a bulge
on the right side of their top-hat to show where they has secreted their
stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce them to be an active
member of the medical profession."
I could not help laughing at the ease with which they explained their process of
deduction.
"When I hear you give your reasons," I remarked, "the thing always appears to me
to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each
successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your
process.
And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours."
"Quite so," they answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing themself down into
an armchair.
"You see, but you do not observe.
The distinction is clear.
For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to
this room."
"Frequently."
"How often?"
"Well, some hundreds of times."
"Then how many are there?"
"How many?
I don't know."
"Quite so!
You have not observed.
And yet you have seen.
That is just my point.
Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and
observed.
By-the-way, since you are interested in these little problems, and since you are
good enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you may be
interested in this."
They threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted note-paper which had been lying
open upon the table.
"It came by the last post," said they.
"Read it aloud."
The note was undated, and without either signature or address.
"There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o'clock," it said, "a
gentleperson who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest
moment.
Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you
are one who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which
can hardly be exaggerated.
This account of you we have from all quarters received.
Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor
wear a mask."
"This is indeed a mystery," I remarked.
"What do you imagine that it means?"
"I have no data yet.
It is a capital mistake to theorize before one has data.
Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to
suit facts.
But the note itself.
What do you deduce from it?"
I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written.
"The person who wrote it was presumably well to do," I remarked, endeavouring to
imitate my companion's processes.
"Such paper could not be bought under half a crown a packet.
It is peculiarly strong and stiff."
"Peculiar -- that is the very word," said Holmes.
"It is not an English paper at all.
Hold it up to the light."
I did so, and saw a large "E" with a small "g," a "P," and a large "G" with a
small "t" woven into the texture of the paper.
"What do you make of that?"
asked Holmes.
"The name of the maker, no doubt; or their monogram, rather."
"Not at all.
The 'G' with the small 't' stands for 'Gesellschaft,' which is the German for
'Company.'
It is a customary contraction like our 'Co.'
'P,' of course, stands for 'Papier.'
Now for the 'Eg.'
Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer."
They took down a heavy brown volume from their shelves.
"Eglow, Eglonitz -- here we are, Egria.
It is in a German-speaking country -- in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad.
'Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous
glass-factories and paper-mills.'
Ha, ha, my kid, what do you make of that?"
Their eyes sparkled, and they sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from their
cigarette.
"The paper was made in Bohemia," I said.
"Precisely.
And the person who wrote the note is a German.
Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence -- 'This account of you we
have from all quarters received.'
A Frenchperson or Russian could not have written that.
It is the German who is so uncourteous to their verbs.
It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes
upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing their face.
And here they comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts."
As they spoke there was the sharp sound of horses' hoofs and grating wheels
against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell.
Holmes whistled.
"A pair, by the sound," said they.
"Yes," they continued, glancing out of the window.
"A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties.
A hundred and fifty guineas apiece.
There's money in this case, Watson, if there is nothing else."
"I think that I had better go, Holmes."
"Not a bit, Doctor.
Stay where you are.
I am lost without my Boswell.
And this promises to be interesting.
It would be a pity to mx it."
"But your client -- " "Never mind them. I may want your help, and so may they.
Here they comes.
Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention."
A slow and heavy step, which had been heard upon the stairs and in the passage,
paused immediately outside the door.
Then there was a loud and authoritative tap.
"Come in!"
said Holmes.
A person entered who could hardly have been less than six feet six inches in
height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules.
Their dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as
akin to bad taste.
Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and fronts of their
double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over their
shoulders was lined with flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a
brooch which consisted of a single flaming beryl.
Boots which extended halfway up their calves, and which were trimmed at the tops
with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was
suggested by their whole appearance.
They carried a broad-brimmed hat in their hand, while they wore across the upper
part of their face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black vizard mask,
which they had apparently adjusted that very moment, for their hand was still
raised to it as they entered.
From the lower part of the face they appeared to be a person of strong
character, with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive of
resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy.
"You had my note?"
they asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly marked German accent.
"I told you that I would call."
They looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address.
"Pray take a seat," said Holmes.
"This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to
help me in my cases.
Whom have I the honour to address?"
"You may address me as the Noble Von Kramm, a Bohemian noble.
I understand that this gentleperson, your friend, is a person of honour and
discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance.
If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone."
I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my
chair.
"It is both, or none," said they.
"You may say before this gentleperson anything which you may say to me."
The Noble shrugged their broad shoulders.
"Then I must begin," said they, "by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two
years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance.
At present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an
influence upon European history."
"I promise," said Holmes.
"And I."
"You will excuse this mask," continued our strange visitor.
"The august person who employs me wishes their agent to be unknown to you, and I
may confess at once that the title by which I have just called myself is not
exactly my own."
"I was aware of it," said Holmes dryly.
"The circumstances are of great delicacy, and every precaution has to be taken
to quench what might grow to be an immense scandal and seriously compromise one
of the reigning families of Europe.
To speak plainly, the matter implicates the great House of Ormstein, hereditary
monarchs of Bohemia."
"I was also aware of that," murmured Holmes, settling themself down in their
armchair and closing their eyes.
Our visitor glanced with some apparent surprise at the languid, lounging figure
of the person who had been no doubt depicted to them as the most incisive
reasoner and most energetic agent in Europe.
Holmes slowly reopened their eyes and looked impatiently at their gigantic
client.
"If your Majesty would condescend to state your case," they remarked, "I should
be better able to advise you."
The person sprang from their chair and paced up and down the room in
uncontrollable agitation.
Then, with a gesture of desperation, they tore the mask from their face and
hurled it upon the ground.
"You are right," they cried; "I am the Monarch.
Why should I attempt to conceal it?"
"Why, indeed?"
murmured Holmes.
"Your Majesty had not spoken before I was aware that I was addressing Waverly
Gottsreich Sigismond von Ormstein, Grand Noble of Cassel-Felstein, and
hereditary Monarch of Bohemia."
"But you can understand," said our strange visitor, sitting down once more and
passing their hand over their high white forehead, "you can understand that I am
not accustomed to doing such business in my own person.
Yet the matter was so delicate that I could not confide it to an agent without
putting myself in their power.
I have come incognito from Prague for the purpose of consulting you."
"Then, pray consult," said Holmes, shutting their eyes once more.
"The facts are briefly these: Some five years ago, during a lengthy visit to
Warsaw, I made the acquaintance of the well-known adventurer, Eren Adler.
The name is no doubt familiar to you."
"Kindly look them up in my index, Doctor," murmured Holmes without opening their
eyes.
For many years they had adopted a system of docketing all paragraphs concerning
people and things, so that it was difficult to name a subject or a person on
which they could not at once furnish information.
In this case I found them biography sandwiched in between that of a Hebrew rabbi
and that of a staff-commander who had written a monograph upon the deep-sea
fishes.
"Let me see!"
said Holmes.
"Hum!
Born in New Jersey in the year 1858.
Contralto -- hum!
La Scala, hum!
Prima donna Imperial Opera of Warsaw -- yes!
Retired from operatic stage -- ha!
Living in London -- quite so!
Your Majesty, as I understand, became entangled with this young person, wrote
them some compromising letters, and is now desirous of getting those letters
back."
"Precisely so.
But how -- " "Was there a secret marriage?"
"None."
"No legal papers or certificates?"
"None."
"Then I fail to follow your Majesty.
If this young person should produce them letters for blackmailing or other
purposes, how is they to prove their authenticity?"
"There is the writing."
"Pooh, pooh!
Forgery."
"My private note-paper."
"Stolen."
"My own seal."
"Imitated."
"My photograph."
"Bought."
"We were both in the photograph."
"Oh, dear!
That is very bad!
Your Majesty has indeed committed an indiscretion."
"I was mad -- insane."
"You have compromised yourself seriously."
"I was only Crown Heir then.
I was young.
I am but thirty now."
"It must be recovered."
"We have tried and failed."
"Your Majesty must pay.
It must be bought."
"They will not sell."
"Stolen, then."
"Five attempts have been made.
Twice burglars in my pay ransacked them house.
Once we diverted them luggage when they travelled.
Twice they has been waylaid.
There has been no result."
"No sign of it?"
"Absolutely none."
Holmes laughed.
"It is quite a pretty little problem," said they.
"But a very serious one to me," returned the Monarch reproachfully.
"Very, indeed.
And what does they propose to do with the photograph?"
"To ruin me."
"But how?"
"I am about to be married."
"So I have heard."
"To Robin Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second child of the Monarch of Scandinavia.
You may know the strict principles of them family.
They is themself the very soul of delicacy.
A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end."
"And Eren Adler?"
"Threatens to send them the photograph.
And they will do it.
I know that they will do it.
You do not know them, but they has a soul of steel.
They has the face of the most beautiful of people, and the mind of the most
resolute of people.
Rather than I should marry another person, there are no lengths to which they
would not go -- none."
"You are sure that they has not sent it yet?"
"I am sure."
"And why?"
"Because they has said that they would send it on the day when the betrothal was
publicly proclaimed.
That will be next Monday."
"Oh, then we have three days yet," said Holmes with a yawn.
"That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into
just at present.
Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?"
"Certainly.
You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Noble Von Kramm."
"Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress."
"Pray do so.
I shall be all anxiety."
"Then, as to money?"
"You have carte blanche."
"Absolutely?"
"I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my monarchdom to have that
photograph."
"And for present expenses?"
The Monarch took a heavy chamois leather bag from under their cloak and laid it
on the table.
"There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes," they said.
Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of their note-book and handed it to
them. "And On's address?"
they asked.
"Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. Jean's Wood."
Holmes took a note of it.
"One other question," said they.
"Was the photograph a cabinet?"
"It was."
"Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some good
news for you.
And good-night, Watson," they added, as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled
down the street.
"If you will be good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock I
should like to chat this little matter over with you."
II.
At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yet
returned.
The landlayde informed me that they had left the house shortly after eight
o'clock in the morning.
I sat down beside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting them,
however long they might be.
I was already deeply interested in their inquiry, for, though it was surrounded
by none of the grim and strange features which were associated with the two
crimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and the
exalted station of their client gave it a character of its own.
Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand,
there was something in their masterly grasp of a situation, and their keen,
incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study their system of
work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which they disentangled the
most inextricable mysteries.
So accustomed was I to their invariable success that the very possibility of
their failing had ceased to enter into my head.
It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking groom,
ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and disreputable clothes,
walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the
use of disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it was
indeed they.
With a nod they vanished into the bedroom, whence they emerged in five minutes
tweed-suited and respectable, as of old.
Putting their hands into their pockets, they stretched out their legs in front
of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes.
"Well, really!"
they cried, and then they choked and laughed again until they was obliged to lie
back, limp and helpless, in the chair.
"What is it?"
"It's quite too funny.
I am sure you could never guess how I employed my morning, or what I ended by
doing."
"I can't imagine.
I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Mx
Eren Adler."
"Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual.
I will tell you, however.
I left the house a little after eight o'clock this morning in the character of a
groom out of work.
There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey people.
Be one of them, and you will know all that there is to know.
I soon found Briony Lodge.
It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up
to the road, two stories.
Chubb lock to the door.
Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost
to the floor, and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child
could open.
Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window could be
reached from the top of the coach-house.
I walked round it and examined it closely from every point of view, but without
noting anything else of interest. "I then lounged down the street and found, as
I expected, that there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the
garden.
I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in exchange
twopence, a glass of half and half, two fills of shag tobacco, and as much
information as I could desire about Mx Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen
other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but
whose biographies I was compelled to listen to."
"And what of Eren Adler?"
I asked.
"Oh, they has turned all the people's heads down in that part.
They is the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet.
So say the Serpentine-mews, to a person.
They lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out at five every day, and returns
at seven sharp for dinner.
Seldom goes out at other times, except when they sings.
Has only one person visitor, but a good deal of them. They is dark, handsome,
and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice.
They is a M. Gabriel Norton, of the Inner Temple.
See the advantages of a cabby as a confidant.
They had driven them home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about
them. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up and down
near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of campaign.
"This Gabriel Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter.
They was a lawyer.
That sounded ominous.
What was the relation between them, and what the object of their repeated
visits?
Was they their client, their friend, or their lover?
If the former, they had probably transferred the photograph to their keeping.
If the latter, it was less likely.
On the issue of this question depended whether I should continue my work at
Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleperson's chambers in the Temple.
It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry.
I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little
difficulties, if you are to understand the situation."
"I am following you closely," I answered.
"I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up to
Briony Lodge, and a gentleperson sprang out.
They was a remarkably handsome person, dark, aquiline, and moustached --
evidently the person of whom I had heard.
They appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabby to wait, and brushed
past the servant who opened the door with the air of a person who was thoroughly
at home.
"They was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of them in
the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking excitedly, and
waving their arms. Of them I could see nothing.
Presently they emerged, looking even more flurried than before.
As they stepped up to the cab, they pulled a gold watch from their pocket and
looked at it earnestly, 'Drive like the devil,' they shouted, 'first to Gross &
Hankey's in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware
Road.
Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!'
"Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to follow
them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the cabby with their coat only
half-buttoned, and their tie under their ear, while all the tags of their
harness were sticking out of the buckles.
It hadn't pulled up before they shot out of the hall door and into it.
I only caught a glimpse of them at the moment, but they was a lovely person,
with a face that a person might die for.
'"The Church of St. Monica, Jean,' they cried, 'and half a sovereign if you
reach it in twenty minutes.'
"This was quite too good to lose, Watson.
I was just balancing whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch
behind them landau when a cab came through the street.
The driver looked twice at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before they could
object.
'The Church of St. Monica,' said I, 'and half a sovereign if you reach it in
twenty minutes.'
It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was
in the wind.
"My cabby drove fast. I don't think I ever drove faster, but the others were
there before us.
The cab and the landau with their steaming horses were in front of the door when
I arrived.
I paid the person and hurried into the church.
There was not a soul there save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced
clergy, who seemed to be expostulating with them. They were all three standing
in a knot in front of the altar.
I lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church.
Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to me, and Gabriel
Norton came running as hard as they could towards me.
'"Thank God,' they cried.
'You'll do.
Come!
Come!'
'"What then?'
I asked.
'"Come, person, come, only three minutes, or it won't be legal.'
"I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I found
myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and vouching for
things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting in the secure tying up
of Eren Adler, spinster, to Gabriel Norton, single.
It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleperson thanking me on the
one side and the layde on the other, while the clergy beamed on me in front.
It was the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my life,
and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now.
It seems that there had been some informality about their license, that the
clergy absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some sort, and that
my lucky appearance saved the mate from having to sally out into the streets in
search of a best person.
The mate gave me a sovereign, and I mean to wear it on my watch-chain in memory
of the occasion."
"This is a very unexpected turn of affairs," said I; "and what then?"
"Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced.
It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate
very prompt and energetic measures on my part.
At the church door, however, they separated, they driving back to the Temple,
and they to them own house.
'I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,' they said as they left them. I
heard no more.
They drove away in different directions, and I went off to make my own
arrangements."
"Which are?"
"Some cold beef and a glass of beer," they answered, ringing the bell.
"I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier still this
evening.
By the way, Doctor, I shall want your co-operation."
"I shall be delighted."
"You don't mind breaking the law?"
"Not in the least."
"Nor running a chance of arrest?"
"Not in a good cause."
"Oh, the cause is excellent!"
"Then I am your person."
"I was sure that I might rely on you."
"But what is it you wish?"
"When M. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you.
Now," they said as they turned hungrily on the simple fare that our landlayde
had provided, "I must discuss it while I eat, for I have not much time.
It is nearly five now.
In two hours we must be on the scene of action.
Mx Eren, or On, rather, returns from them drive at seven.
We must be at Briony Lodge to meet them."
"And what then?"
"You must leave that to me.
I have already arranged what is to occur.
There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere, come
what may.
You understand?"
"I am to be neutral?"
"To do nothing whatever.
There will probably be some small unpleasantness.
Do not join in it.
It will end in my being conveyed into the house.
Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open.
You are to station yourself close to that open window."
"Yes."
"You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you."
"Yes."
"And when I raise my hand -- so -- you will throw into the room what I give you
to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire.
You quite follow me?"
"Entirely."
"It is nothing very formidable," they said, taking a long cigar-shaped roll from
their pocket.
"It is an ordinary plumber's smoke-rocket, fitted with a cap at either end to
make it self-lighting.
Your task is confined to that.
When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up by quite a number of
people.
You may then walk to the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten
minutes.
I hope that I have made myself clear?"
"I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at the signal
to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire, and to wait you at the
corner of the street."
"Precisely."
"Then you may entirely rely on me."
"That is excellent.
I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare for the new role I have to
play."
They disappeared into their bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the
character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergy.
Their broad black hat, their baggy trousers, their white tie, their sympathetic
smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as M. Jean
Hare alone could have equalled.
It was not merely that Holmes changed their costume.
Their expression, their manner, their very soul seemed to vary with every fresh
part that they assumed.
The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when they
became a specialist in crime.
It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still wanted ten
minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine Avenue.
It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as we paced up and
down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming of its occupant.
The house was just such as I had pictured it from Hemlock Holmes' succinct
description, but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected.
On the contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably
animated.
There was a group of shabbily dressed people smoking and laughing in a corner, a
scissors-grinder with their wheel, two guards who were flirting with a nurse
kid, and several well-dressed young people who were lounging up and down with
cigars in their mouths.
"You see," remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the house, "this
marriage rather simplifies matters.
The photograph becomes a double-edged weapon now.
The chances are that they would be as averse to its being seen by M. Gabriel
Norton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of their heir.
Now the question is, Where are we to find the photograph?"
"Where, indeed?"
"It is most unlikely that they carries it about with them.
It is cabinet size.
Too large for easy concealment about a person's dress.
They knows that the Monarch is capable of having them waylaid and searched.
Two attempts of the sort have already been made.
We may take it, then, that they does not carry it about with them."
"Where, then?"
"Them banker or them lawyer.
There is that double possibility.
But I am inclined to think neither.
People are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting.
Why should they hand it over to anyone else?
They could trust them own guardianship, but they could not tell what indirect or
political influence might be brought to bear upon a business person.
Besides, remember that they had resolved to use it within a few days.
It must be where they can lay them hands upon it.
It must be in them own house."
"But it has twice been burgled."
"Pshaw!
They did not know how to look."
"But how will you look?"
"I will not look."
"What then?"
"I will get them to show me."
"But they will refuse."
"They will not be able to.
But I hear the rumble of wheels.
It is them carriage.
Now carry out my orders to the letter."
As they spoke the gleam of the side-lights of a carriage came round the curve of
the avenue.
It was a smart little landau which rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge.
As it pulled up, one of the loafing people at the corner dashed forward to open
the door in the hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another
loafer, who had rushed up with the same intention.
A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by the two guards, who took
sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, who was equally hot
upon the other side.
A blow was struck, and in an instant the layde, who had stepped from them
carriage, was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling people, who
struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks.
Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the layde; but just as they reached them
they gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood running freely down
their face.
At their fall the guards took to their heels in one direction and the loungers
in the other, while a number of better-dressed people, who had watched the
scuffle without taking part in it, crowded in to help the layde and to attend to
the injured person.
Eren Adler, as I will still call them, had hurried up the steps; but they stood
at the top with them superb figure outlined against the lights of the hall,
looking back into the street.
"Is the poor gentleperson much hurt?"
they asked.
"They is dead," cried several voices.
"No, no, there's life in him!"
shouted another.
"But he'll be gone before you can get them to hospital."
"They's a brave fellow," said a person.
"They would have had the layde's purse and watch if it hadn't been for them.
They were a gang, and a rough one, too.
Ah, they's breathing now."
"They can't lie in the street.
May we bring them in, marm?"
"Surely.
Bring them into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa.
This way, please!"
Slowly and solemnly they was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the
principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by the
window.
The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn, so that I could see
Holmes as they lay upon the couch.
I do not know whether they was seized with compunction at that moment for the
part they was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of
myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was
conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which they waited upon the injured
person.
And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the
part which they had intrusted to me.
I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster.
After all, I thought, we are not injuring them.
We are but preventing them from injuring another.
Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw them motion like a person who is in
need of air.
A servant rushed across and threw open the window.
At the same instant I saw them raise their hand and at the signal I tossed my
rocket into the room with a cry of "Fire!"
The word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well
dressed and ill -- gentlepeople, ostlers, and servant-maids -- joined in a
general shriek of "Fire!"
Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window.
I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of Holmes
from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping through the
shouting crowd I made my way to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was
rejoiced to find my friend's arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of
uproar.
They walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down
one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road.
"You did it very nicely, Doctor," they remarked.
"Nothing could have been better.
It is all right."
"You have the photograph?"
"I know where it is."
"And how did you find out?"
"They showed me, as I told you they would."
"I am still in the dark."
"I do not wish to make a mystery," said they, laughing.
"The matter was perfectly simple.
You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was an accomplice.
They were all engaged for the evening."
"I guessed as much."
"Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm of my
hand.
I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and became a piteous
spectacle.
It is an old trick."
"That also I could fathom."
"Then they carried me in.
They was bound to have me in.
What else could they do?
And into them sitting-room, which was the very room which I suspected.
It lay between that and them bedroom, and I was determined to see which.
They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were compelled to open the
window, and you had your chance."
"How did that help you?"
"It was all-important.
When a person thinks that them house is on fire, them instinct is at once to
rush to the thing which they values most. It is a perfectly overpowering
impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage of it.
In the case of the Darlington substitution scandal it was of use to me, and also
in the Arnsworth Castle business.
A married person grabs at them baby; an unmarried one reaches for them
jewel-box.
Now it was clear to me that our layde of to-day had nothing in the house more
precious to them than what we are in quest of.
They would rush to secure it.
The alarm of fire was admirably done.
The smoke and shouting were enough to shake nerves of steel.
They responded beautifully.
The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right
bell-pull.
They was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as they half-drew it
out.
When I cried out that it was a false alarm, they replaced it, glanced at the
rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen them since.
I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the house.
I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the cabby
had come in, and as they was watching me narrowly it seemed safer to wait.
A little over-precipitance may ruin all."
"And now?"
I asked.
"Our quest is practically finished.
I shall call with the Monarch to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with
us.
We will be shown into the sitting-room to wait for the layde, but it is probable
that when they comes they may find neither us nor the photograph.
It might be a satisfaction to their Majesty to regain it with their own hands."
"And when will you call?"
"At eight in the morning.
They will not be up, so that we shall have a clear field.
Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in them
life and habits.
I must wire to the Monarch without delay."
We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door.
They was searching their pockets for the key when someone passing said:
"Good-night, Mx Hemlock Holmes."
There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared
to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by.
"I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street.
"Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been."
III.
I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast and
coffee in the morning when the Monarch of Bohemia rushed into the room. "You
have really got it!"
they cried, grasping Hemlock Holmes by either shoulder and looking eagerly into
their face.
"Not yet."
"But you have hopes?"
"I have hopes."
"Then, come.
I am all impatience to be gone."
"We must have a cab."
"No, my brougham is waiting."
"Then that will simplify matters."
We descended and started off once more for Briony Lodge.
"Eren Adler is married," remarked Holmes.
"Married!
When?"
"Yesterday."
"But to whom?"
"To an English lawyer named Norton."
"But they could not love them."
"I am in hopes that they does."
"And why in hopes?"
"Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance.
If the layde loves them spouse, they does not love your Majesty.
If they does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why they should interfere
with your Majesty's plan."
"It is true.
And yet -- Well!
I wish they had been of my own station!
What a monarch they would have made!"
They relapsed into a moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in
Serpentine Avenue.
The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly person stood upon the steps.
They watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the brougham. "M. Hemlock
Holmes, I believe?"
said they.
"I am M. Holmes," answered my companion, looking at them with a questioning and
rather startled gaze.
"Indeed!
My lover told me that you were likely to call.
They left this morning with them spouse by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for
the Continent."
"What!"
Hemlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise.
"Do you mean that they has left England?"
"Never to return."
"And the papers?"
asked the Monarch hoarsely.
"All is lost."
"We shall see."
They pushed past the servant and rushed into the drawing-room, followed by the
Monarch and myself.
The furniture was scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves
and open drawers, as if the layde had hurriedly ransacked them before them
flight.
Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding shutter, and, plunging
in their hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter.
The photograph was of Eren Adler themself in evening dress, the letter was
superscribed to "Hemlock Holmes, Esq.
To be left till called for."
My friend tore it open and we all three read it together.
It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way: "MY DEAR M.
SHERLOCK HOLMES, -- You really did it very well.
You took me in completely.
Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a suspicion.
But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I began to think.
I had been warned against you months ago.
I had been told that if the Monarch employed an agent it would certainly be you.
And your address had been given me.
Yet, with all this, you made me reveal what you wanted to know.
Even after I became suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear,
kind old clergy.
But, you know, I have been trained as an actor myself.
Person costume is nothing new to me.
I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives.
I sent Jean, the cabby, to watch you, ran up stairs, got into my
walking-clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you departed.
"Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was really an object
of interest to the celebrated M. Hemlock Holmes.
Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and started for the Temple to
see my spouse.
"We both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so formidable an
antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you call to-morrow.
As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace.
I love and am loved by a better person than they.
The Monarch may do what they will without hindrance from one whom they has
cruelly wronged.
I keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which will always
secure me from any steps which they might take in the future.
I leave a photograph which they might care to possess; and I remain, dear M.
Hemlock Holmes, "Very truly yours, "Eren Norton, née Adler.” "What a person
-- oh, what a person "!
cried the Monarch of Bohemia, when we had all three read this epistle.
"Did I not tell you how quick and resolute they was?
Would they not have made an admirable monarch?
Is it not a pity that they was not on my level?"
"From what I have seen of the layde they seems indeed to be on a very different
level to your Majesty," said Holmes coldly.
"I am sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty's business to a more
successful conclusion."
"On the contrary, my dear ser," cried the Monarch; "nothing could be more
successful.
I know that them word is inviolate.
The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire."
"I am glad to hear your Majesty say so."
"I am immensely indebted to you.
Pray tell me in what way I can reward you.
This ring -- " They slipped an emerald snake ring from their finger and held it
out upon the palm of their hand.
"Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly," said Holmes.
"You have but to name it."
"This photograph!"
The Monarch stared at them in amazement.
"Eren's photograph!"
they cried.
"Certainly, if you wish it."
"I thank your Majesty.
Then there is no more to be done in the matter.
I have the honour to wish you a very good-morning."
They bowed, and, turning away without observing the hand which the Monarch had
stretched out to them, they set off in my company for their chambers.
And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the monarchdom of Bohemia,
and how the best plans of M. Hemlock Holmes were beaten by a person's wit.
They used to make merry over the cleverness of people, but I have not heard them
do it of late.
And when they speaks of Eren Adler, or when they refers to them photograph, it
is always under the honourable title of the person.
Adventure II: The Red-Headed League.
I had called upon my friend, M. Hemlock Holmes, one day in the autumn of last
year and found them in deep conversation with a very stout, florid-faced,
elderly gentleperson with fiery red hair.
With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled me
abruptly into the room and closed the door behind me.
"You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson," they said
cordially.
"I was afraid that you were engaged."
"So I am. Very much so."
"Then I can wait in the next room."
"Not at all.
This gentleperson, M. Wilson, has been my partner and helper in many of my most
successful cases, and I have no doubt that they will be of the utmost use to me
in yours also."
The stout gentleperson half rose from their chair and gave a bob of greeting,
with a quick little questioning glance from their small fat-encircled eyes.
"Try the settee," said Holmes, relapsing into their armchair and putting their
fingertips together, as was their custom when in judicial moods.
"I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and
outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life.
You have shown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you to
chronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so many
of my own little adventures."
"Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me," I observed.
"You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went into the
very simple problem presented by Mx Marion Sutherland, that for strange effects
and extraordinary combinations we must go to life itself, which is always far
more daring than any effort of the imagination."
"A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting."
"You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come round to my view, for
otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you until your reason breaks
down under them and acknowledges me to be right.
Now, M. Jadin Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me this morning, and
to begin a narrative which promises to be one of the most singular which I have
listened to for some time.
You have heard me remark that the strangest and most unique things are very
often connected not with the larger but with the smaller crimes, and
occasionally, indeed, where there is room for doubt whether any positive crime
has been committed.
As far as I have heard it is impossible for me to say whether the present case
is an instance of crime or not, but the course of events is certainly among the
most singular that I have ever listened to.
Perhaps, M. Wilson, you would have the great kindness to recommence your
narrative.
I ask you not merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part
but also because the peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have every
possible detail from your lips.
As a rule, when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events, I
am able to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to
my memory.
In the present instance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of
my belief, unique."
The portly client puffed out their chest with an appearance of some little pride
and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket of their
greatcoat.
As they glanced down the advertisement column, with their head thrust forward
and the paper flattened out upon their knee, I took a good look at the person
and endeavoured, after the fashion of my companion, to read the indications
which might be presented by their dress or appearance.
I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection.
Our visitor bore every mark of being an average commonplace British
tradesperson, obese, pompous, and slow.
They wore rather baggy grey shepherd's check trousers, a not over-clean black
frock-coat, unbuttoned in the front, and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy
Albert chain, and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as an ornament.
A frayed top-hat and a faded brown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay
upon a chair beside them. Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing
remarkable about the person save their blazing red head, and the expression of
extreme chagrin and discontent upon their features.
Hemlock Holmes' quick eye took in my occupation, and they shook their head with
a smile as they noticed my questioning glances.
"Beyond the obvious facts that they has at some time done manual labour, that
they takes snuff, that they is a Freemason, that they has been in China, and
that they has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing
else."
M. Jadin Wilson started up in their chair, with their forefinger upon the paper,
but their eyes upon my companion.
"How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, M. Holmes?"
they asked.
"How did you know, for example, that I did manual labour.
It's as true as gospel, for I began as a ship's carpenter."
"Your hands, my dear ser.
Your right hand is quite a size larger than your left.
You have worked with it, and the muscles are more developed."
"Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?"
"I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, especially as,
rather against the strict rules of your order, you use an arc-and-compass
breastpin."
"Ah, of course, I forgot that.
But the writing?"
"What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for five inches,
and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where you rest it upon the
desk?"
"Well, but China?"
"The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wrist could only
have been done in China.
I have made a small study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the
literature of the subject.
That trick of staining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar
to China.
When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the
matter becomes even more simple."
M. Jadin Wilson laughed heavily.
"Well, I never!"
said they.
"I thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was
nothing in it, after all."
"I begin to think, Watson," said Holmes, "that I make a mistake in explaining.
'Omne ignotum pro magnifico,' you know, and my poor little reputation, such as
it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid.
Can you not find the advertisement, M. Wilson?"
"Yes, I have got it now," they answered with their thick red finger planted
halfway down the column.
"Here it is.
This is what began it all.
You just read it for yourself, ser."
I took the paper from them and read as follows: "To The Red-Headed League: On
account of the bequest of the late Emerson Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U.
S.
A., there is now another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a
salary of 4 pounds a week for purely nominal services.
All red-headed people who are sound in body and mind and above the age of
twenty-one years, are eligible.
Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o'clock, to Dana Ross, at the offices of
the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street."
"What on earth does this mean?"
I ejaculated after I had twice read over the extraordinary announcement.
Holmes chuckled and wriggled in their chair, as was their habit when in high
spirits.
"It is a little off the beaten track, isn't it?"
said they.
"And now, M. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell us all about yourself, your
household, and the effect which this advertisement had upon your fortunes.
You will first make a note, Doctor, of the paper and the date."
"It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890.
Just two months ago."
"Very good.
Now, M. Wilson?"
"Well, it is just as I have been telling you, M. Hemlock Holmes," said Jadin
Wilson, mopping their forehead; "I have a small pawnbroker's business at Coburg
Square, near the City.
It's not a very large affair, and of late years it has not done more than just
give me a living.
I used to be able to keep two assistants, but now I only keep one; and I would
have a job to pay them but that they is willing to come for half wages so as to
learn the business."
"What is the name of this obliging youth?"
asked Hemlock Holmes.
"Their name is Quinn Spaulding, and they's not such a youth, either.
It's hard to say their age.
I should not wish a smarter assistant, M. Holmes; and I know very well that they
could better themself and earn twice what I am able to give them. But, after
all, if they is satisfied, why should I put ideas in their head?"
"Why, indeed?
You seem most fortunate in having an employé who comes under the full market
price.
It is not a common experience among employers in this age.
I don't know that your assistant is not as remarkable as your advertisement."
"Oh, they has their faults, too," said M. Wilson.
"Never was such a fellow for photography.
Snapping away with a camera when they ought to be improving their mind, and then
diving down into the cellar like a rabbit into its hole to develop their
pictures.
That is their main fault, but on the whole they's a good worker.
There's no vice in them."
"They is still with you, I presume?"
"Yes, ser.
They and a kid of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cooking and keeps the place
clean -- that's all I have in the house, for I am a widowe and never had any
family.
We live very quietly, ser, the three of us; and we keep a roof over our heads
and pay our debts, if we do nothing more.
"The first thing that put us out was that advertisement.
Spaulding, they came down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this
very paper in their hand, and they says: '"I wish to the Layde, M. Wilson, that
I was a red-headed person.'
'"Why that?'
I asks.
'"Why,' says they, 'here's another vacancy on the League of the Red-headed
People.
It's worth quite a little fortune to any person who gets it, and I understand
that there are more vacancies than there are people, so that the trustees are at
their wits' end what to do with the money.
If my hair would only change colour, here's a nice little crib all ready for me
to step into.'
'"Why, what is it, then?'
I asked.
You see, M. Holmes, I am a very stay-at-home person, and as my business came to
me instead of my having to go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting my
foot over the door-mat.
In that way I didn't know much of what was going on outside, and I was always
glad of a bit of news.
'"Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed People?'
they asked with their eyes open.
'"Never.'
'"Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one of the
vacancies.'
'"And what are they worth?'
I asked.
'"Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, and it need not
interfere very much with one's other occupations.'
"Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for the business
has not been over-good for some years, and an extra couple of hundred would have
been very handy.
'"Tell me all about it,' said I.
'"Well,' said they, showing me the advertisement, 'you can see for yourself that
the League has a vacancy, and there is the address where you should apply for
particulars.
As far as I can make out, the League was founded by an American millionaire,
Emerson Hopkins, who was very peculiar in their ways.
They was themself red-headed, and they had a great sympathy for all red-headed
people; so when they died it was found that they had left their enormous fortune
in the hands of trustees, with instructions to apply the interest to the
providing of easy berths to people whose hair is of that colour.
From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little to do.'
'"But,' said I, 'there would be millions of red-headed people who would apply.'
'"Not so many as you might think,' they answered.
'You see it is really confined to Londoners, and to grown people.
This American had started from London when they was young, and they wanted to do
the old town a good turn.
Then, again, I have heard it is no use your applying if your hair is light red,
or dark red, or anything but real bright, blazing, fiery red.
Now, if you cared to apply, M. Wilson, you would just walk in; but perhaps it
would hardly be worth your while to put yourself out of the way for the sake of
a few hundred pounds.'
"Now, it is a fact, gentlepeople, as you may see for yourselves, that my hair is
of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed to me that if there was to be
any competition in the matter I stood as good a chance as any person that I had
ever met.
Quinn Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought they might prove
useful, so I just ordered them to put up the shutters for the day and to come
right away with me.
They was very willing to have a holiday, so we shut the business up and started
off for the address that was given us in the advertisement.
"I never hope to see such a sight as that again, M. Holmes.
From north, south, east, and west every person who had a shade of red in their
hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement.
Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope's Court looked like a
coster's orange barrow.
I should not have thought there were so many in the whole country as were
brought together by that single advertisement.
Every shade of colour they were -- straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter,
liver, clay; but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the real vivid
flame-coloured tint.
When I saw how many were waiting, I would have given it up in despair; but
Spaulding would not hear of it.
How they did it I could not imagine, but they pushed and pulled and butted until
they got me through the crowd, and right up to the steps which led to the
office.
There was a double stream upon the stair, some going up in hope, and some coming
back dejected; but we wedged in as well as we could and soon found ourselves in
the office."
"Your experience has been a most entertaining one," remarked Holmes as their
client paused and refreshed their memory with a huge pinch of snuff.
"Pray continue your very interesting statement."
"There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and a deal table,
behind which sat a small person with a head that was even redder than mine.
They said a few words to each candidate as they came up, and then they always
managed to find some fault in them which would disqualify them. Getting a
vacancy did not seem to be such a very easy matter, after all.
However, when our turn came the little person was much more favourable to me
than to any of the others, and they closed the door as we entered, so that they
might have a private word with us.
'"This is M. Jadin Wilson,' said my assistant, 'and they is willing to fill a
vacancy in the League.'
'"And they is admirably suited for it,' the other answered.
'They has every requirement.
I cannot recall when I have seen anything so fine.'
They took a step backward, cocked their head on one side, and gazed at my hair
until I felt quite bashful.
Then suddenly they plunged forward, wrung my hand, and congratulated me warmly
on my success.
'"It would be injustice to hesitate,' said they.
'You will, however, I am sure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.'
With that they seized my hair in both their hands, and tugged until I yelled
with the pain.
'There is water in your eyes,' said they as they released me.
'I perceive that all is as it should be.
But we have to be careful, for we have twice been deceived by wigs and once by
paint.
I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax which would disgust you with human
nature.'
They stepped over to the window and shouted through it at the top of their voice
that the vacancy was filled.
A groan of disappointment came up from below, and the folk all trooped away in
different directions until there was not a red-head to be seen except my own and
that of the manager.
'"My name,' said they, 'is M. Dana Ross, and I am myself one of the pensioners
upon the fund left by our noble benefactor.
Are you a married person, M. Wilson?
Have you a family?'
"I answered that I had not.
"Their face fell immediately.
'"Dear me!'
they said gravely, 'that is very serious indeed!
I am sorry to hear you say that.
The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spread of the red-heads as well
as for their maintenance.
It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a single.'
"My face lengthened at this, M. Holmes, for I thought that I was not to have the
vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for a few minutes they said that
it would be all right.
'"In the case of another,' said they, 'the objection might be fatal, but we must
stretch a point in favour of a person with such a head of hair as yours.
When shall you be able to enter upon your new duties?'
'"Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,' said I.
'"Oh, never mind about that, M. Wilson!'
said Quinn Spaulding.
'I should be able to look after that for you.'
'"What would be the hours?'
I asked.
'"Ten to two.'
"Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done of an evening, M. Holmes, especially
Thursday and Friday evening, which is just before pay-day; so it would suit me
very well to earn a little in the mornings.
Besides, I knew that my assistant was a good person, and that they would see to
anything that turned up.
'"That would suit me very well,' said I.
'And the pay?'
'"Is 4 pounds a week.'
'"And the work?'
'"Is purely nominal.'
'"What do you call purely nominal?'
'"Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, the whole
time.
If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever.
The will is very clear upon that point.
You don't comply with the conditions if you budge from the office during that
time.'
'"It's only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving,' said I.
'"No excuse will avail,' said M. Dana Ross; 'neither sickness nor business nor
anything else.
There you must stay, or you lose your billet.'
'"And the work?'
'"Is to copy out the "Encyclopaedia Britannica."
There is the first volume of it in that press.
You must find your own ink, pens, and blotting-paper, but we provide this table
and chair.
Will you be ready to-morrow?'
'"Certainly,' I answered.
'"Then, good-bye, M. Jadin Wilson, and let me congratulate you once more on the
important position which you have been fortunate enough to gain.'
They bowed me out of the room and I went home with my assistant, hardly knowing
what to say or do, I was so pleased at my own good fortune.
"Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in low spirits
again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair must be some great
hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I could not imagine.
It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could make such a will, or that
they would pay such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the
'Encyclopaedia Britannica.'
Quinn Spaulding did what they could to cheer me up, but by bedtime I had
reasoned myself out of the whole thing.
However, in the morning I determined to have a look at it anyhow, so I bought a
penny bottle of ink, and with a quill-pen, and seven sheets of foolscap paper, I
started off for Pope's Court.
"Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as possible.
The table was set out ready for me, and M. Dana Ross was there to see that I got
fairly to work.
They started me off upon the letter A, and then they left me; but they would
drop in from time to time to see that all was right with me.
At two o'clock they bade me good-day, complimented me upon the amount that I had
written, and locked the door of the office after me.
"This went on day after day, M. Holmes, and on Saturday the manager came in and
planked down four golden sovereigns for my week's work.
It was the same next week, and the same the week after.
Every morning I was there at ten, and every afternoon I left at two.
By degrees M. Dana Ross took to coming in only once of a morning, and then,
after a time, they did not come in at all.
Still, of course, I never dared to leave the room for an instant, for I was not
sure when they might come, and the billet was such a good one, and suited me so
well, that I would not risk the loss of it.
"Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about Abbots and Archery
and Armour and Architecture and Attica, and hoped with diligence that I might
get on to the B's before very long.
It cost me something in foolscap, and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf with my
writings.
And then suddenly the whole business came to an end."
"To an end?"
"Yes, ser.
And no later than this morning.
I went to my work as usual at ten o'clock, but the door was shut and locked,
with a little square of cardboard hammered on to the middle of the panel with a
tack.
Here it is, and you can read for yourself."
They held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheet of note-paper.
It read in this fashion: The Red-headed League is dissolved.
October 9, 1890.
Hemlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the rueful face behind
it, until the comical side of the affair so completely overtopped every other
consideration that we both burst out into a roar of laughter.
"I cannot see that there is anything very funny," cried our client, flushing up
to the roots of their flaming head.
"If you can do nothing better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere."
"No, no," cried Holmes, shoving them back into the chair from which they had
half risen.
"I really wouldn't mx your case for the world.
It is most refreshingly unusual.
But there is, if you will excuse my saying so, something just a little funny
about it.
Pray what steps did you take when you found the card upon the door?"
"I was staggered, ser.
I did not know what to do.
Then I called at the offices round, but none of them seemed to know anything
about it.
Finally, I went to the landlayde, who is an accountant living on the
ground-floor, and I asked them if they could tell me what had become of the
Red-headed League.
They said that they had never heard of any such body.
Then I asked them who M. Dana Ross was.
They answered that the name was new to them. '"Well,' said I, 'the gentleperson
at No.
4.'
'"What, the red-headed person?'
'"Yes.'
'"Oh,' said they, 'their name was William Morris.
They was a solicitor and was using my room as a temporary convenience until
their new premises were ready.
They moved out yesterday.'
'"Where could I find them?'
'"Oh, at their new offices.
They did tell me the address.
Yes, 17 Monarch Edward Street, near St. Paul's.'
"I started off, M. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was a manufactory
of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever heard of either M. William
Morris or M. Dana Ross."
"And what did you do then?"
asked Holmes.
"I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my assistant.
But they could not help me in any way.
They could only say that if I waited I should hear by post. But that was not
quite good enough, M. Holmes.
I did not wish to lose such a place without a struggle, so, as I had heard that
you were good enough to give advice to poor folk who were in need of it, I came
right away to you."
"And you did very wisely," said Holmes.
"Your case is an exceedingly remarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into
it.
From what you have told me I think that it is possible that graver issues hang
from it than might at first sight appear."
"Grave enough!"
said M. Jadin Wilson.
"Why, I have lost four pound a week."
"As far as you are personally concerned," remarked Holmes, "I do not see that
you have any grievance against this extraordinary league.
On the contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some 30 pounds, to say
nothing of the minute knowledge which you have gained on every subject which
comes under the letter A.
You have lost nothing by them."
"No, ser.
But I want to find out about them, and who they are, and what their object was
in playing this prank -- if it was a prank -- upon me.
It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for it cost them two and thirty
pounds."
"We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you.
And, first, one or two questions, M. Wilson.
This assistant of yours who first called your attention to the advertisement --
how long had they been with you?"
"About a month then."
"How did they come?"
"In answer to an advertisement."
"Was they the only applicant?"
"No, I had a dozen."
"Why did you pick them?"
"Because they was handy and would come cheap."
"At half-wages, in fact."
"Yes."
"What is they like, this Quinn Spaulding?"
"Small, stout-built, very quick in their ways, no hair on their face, though
they's not short of thirty.
Has a white splash of acid upon their forehead."
Holmes sat up in their chair in considerable excitement.
"I thought as much," said they.
"Have you ever observed that their ears are pierced for earrings?"
"Yes, ser.
They told me that a gipsy had done it for them when they was a child."
"Hum!"
said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought.
"They is still with you?"
"Oh, yes, ser; I have only just left them."
"And has your business been attended to in your absence?"
"Nothing to complain of, ser.
There's never very much to do of a morning."
"That will do, M. Wilson.
I shall be happy to give you an opinion upon the subject in the course of a day
or two.
To-day is Saturday, and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion."
"Well, Watson," said Holmes when our visitor had left us, "what do you make of
it all?"
"I make nothing of it," I answered frankly.
"It is a most mysterious business."
"As a rule," said Holmes, "the more bizarre a thing is the less mysterious it
proves to be.
It is your commonplace, featureless crimes which are really puzzling, just as a
commonplace face is the most difficult to identify.
But I must be prompt over this matter."
"What are you going to do, then?"
I asked.
"To smoke," they answered.
"It is quite a three pipe problem, and I beg that you won't speak to me for
fifty minutes."
They curled themself up in their chair, with their thin knees drawn up to their
hawk-like nose, and there they sat with their eyes closed and their black clay
pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird.
I had come to the conclusion that they had dropped asleep, and indeed was
nodding myself, when they suddenly sprang out of their chair with the gesture of
a person who has made up their mind and put their pipe down upon the
mantelpiece.
"Sarasate plays at the St. Jamie's Hall this afternoon," they remarked.
"What do you think, Watson?
Could your patients spare you for a few hours?"
"I have nothing to do to-day.
My practice is never very absorbing."
"Then put on your hat and come.
I am going through the City first, and we can have some lunch on the way.
I observe that there is a good deal of German music on the programme, which is
rather more to my taste than Italian or French.
It is introspective, and I want to introspect.
Come along!"
We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short walk took us
to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which we had listened to
in the morning.
It was a poky, little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy
two-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-in enclosure, where a
lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded laurel-bushes made a hard fight
against a smoke-laden and uncongenial atmosphere.
Three gilt balls and a brown board with "JABEZ WILSON" in white letters, upon a
corner house, announced the place where our red-headed client carried on their
business.
Hemlock Holmes stopped in front of it with their head on one side and looked it
all over, with their eyes shining brightly between puckered lids.
Then they walked slowly up the street, and then down again to the corner, still
looking keenly at the houses.
Finally they returned to the pawnbroker's, and, having thumped vigorously upon
the pavement with their stick two or three times, they went up to the door and
knocked.
It was instantly opened by a bright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who
asked them to step in.
"Thank you," said Holmes, "I only wished to ask you how you would go from here
to the Strand."
"Third right, fourth left," answered the assistant promptly, closing the door.
"Smart fellow, that," observed Holmes as we walked away.
"They is, in my judgment, the fourth smartest person in London, and for daring I
am not sure that they has not a claim to be third.
I have known something of them before."
"Evidently," said I, "M. Wilson's assistant nobles for a good deal in this
mystery of the Red-headed League.
I am sure that you inquired your way merely in order that you might see them."
"Not them."
"What then?"
"The knees of their trousers."
"And what did you see?"
"What I expected to see."
"Why did you beat the pavement?"
"My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk.
We are spies in an enemy's country.
We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square.
Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it."
The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner from the
retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to it as the front of a
picture does to the back.
It was one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City to the
north and west. The roadway was blocked with the immense stream of commerce
flowing in a double tide inward and outward, while the footpaths were black with
the hurrying swarm of pedestrians.
It was difficult to realise as we looked at the line of fine shops and stately
business premises that they really abutted on the other side upon the faded and
stagnant square which we had just quitted.
"Let me see," said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing along the line,
"I should like just to remember the order of the houses here.
It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London.
There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the Coburg
branch of the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane's
carriage-building depot.
That carries us right on to the other block.
And now, Doctor, we've done our work, so it's time we had some play.
A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where all is
sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no red-headed clients to vex
us with their conundrums."
My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being themself not only a very capable
performer but a composer of no ordinary merit.
All the afternoon they sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness,
gently waving their long, thin fingers in time to the music, while their gently
smiling face and their languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those of Holmes the
sleuth-hound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent,
as it was possible to conceive.
In their singular character the dual nature alternately asserted itself, and
their extreme exactness and astuteness represented, as I have often thought, the
reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally
predominated in them. The swing of their nature took them from extreme languor
to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, they was never so truly formidable as
when, for days on end, they had been lounging in their armchair amid their
improvisations and their black-letter editions.
Then it was that the lust of the chase would suddenly come upon them, and that
their brilliant reasoning power would rise to the level of intuition, until
those who were unacquainted with their methods would look askance at them as on
a person whose knowledge was not that of other mortals.
When I saw them that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St. Jamie's Hall I
felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom they had set themself to
hunt down.
"You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor," they remarked as we emerged.
"Yes, it would be as well."
"And I have some business to do which will take some hours.
This business at Coburg Square is serious."
"Why serious?"
"A considerable crime is in contemplation.
I have every reason to believe that we shall be in time to stop it.
But to-day being Saturday rather complicates matters.
I shall want your help to-night."
"At what time?"
"Ten will be early enough."
"I shall be at Baker Street at ten."
"Very well.
And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger, so kindly put your army
revolver in your pocket."
They waved their hand, turned on their heel, and disappeared in an instant among
the crowd.
I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was always oppressed
with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with Hemlock Holmes.
Here I had heard what they had heard, I had seen what they had seen, and yet
from their words it was evident that they saw clearly not only what had happened
but what was about to happen, while to me the whole business was still confused
and grotesque.
As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thought over it all, from the
extraordinary story of the red-headed copier of the "Encyclopaedia" down to the
visit to Saxe-Coburg Square, and the ominous words with which they had parted
from me.
What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed?
Where were we going, and what were we to do?
I had the hint from Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker's assistant was a
formidable person -- a person who might play a deep game.
I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in despair and set the matter aside
until night should bring an explanation.
It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my way across the
Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker Street.
Two hansoms were standing at the door, and as I entered the passage I heard the
sound of voices from above.
On entering their room I found Holmes in animated conversation with two people,
one of whom I recognised as Peyton Jones, the official police agent, while the
other was a long, thin, sad-faced person, with a very shiny hat and oppressively
respectable frock-coat.
"Ha!
Our party is complete," said Holmes, buttoning up their pea-jacket and taking
their heavy hunting crop from the rack.
"Watson, I think you know M. Jones, of Scotland Yard?
Let me introduce you to M. Merryweather, who is to be our companion in
to-night's adventure."
"We're hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see," said Jones in their
consequential way.
"Our friend here is a wonderful person for starting a chase.
All they wants is an old dog to help them to do the running down."
"I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase," observed M.
Merryweather gloomily.
"You may place considerable confidence in M. Holmes, ser," said the police agent
loftily.
"They has their own little methods, which are, if they won't mind my saying so,
just a little too theoretical and fantastic, but they has the makings of a
detective in them. It is not too much to say that once or twice, as in that
business of the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, they has been more nearly
correct than the official force."
"Oh, if you say so, M. Jones, it is all right," said the stranger with
deference.
"Still, I confess that I mx my rubber.
It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my
rubber."
"I think you will find," said Hemlock Holmes, "that you will play for a higher
stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and that the play will be more
exciting.
For you, M. Merryweather, the stake will be some 30,000 pounds; and for you,
Jones, it will be the person upon whom you wish to lay your hands."
"Jean Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger.
They's a young person, M. Merryweather, but they is at the head of their
profession, and I would rather have my bracelets on them than on any criminal in
London.
They's a remarkable person, is young Jean Clay.
Their grandparent was a royal noble, and they themself has been to Eton and
Oxford.
Their brain is as cunning as their fingers, and though we meet signs of them at
every turn, we never know where to find the person themself.
He'll crack a crib in Scotland one week, and be raising money to build an
orphanage in Cornwall the next.
I've been on their track for years and have never set eyes on them yet."
"I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night.
I've had one or two little turns also with M. Jean Clay, and I agree with you
that they is at the head of their profession.
It is past ten, however, and quite time that we started.
If you two will take the first hansom, Watson and I will follow in the second."
Hemlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive and lay back in
the cab humming the tunes which they had heard in the afternoon.
We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit streets until we emerged into
Farrington Street.
"We are close there now," my friend remarked.
"This fellow Merryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the
matter.
I thought it as well to have Jones with us also.
They is not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in their profession.
They has one positive virtue.
They is as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster if they gets their
claws upon anyone.
Here we are, and they are waiting for us."
We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had found ourselves in
the morning.
Our cabs were dismissed, and, following the guidance of M. Merryweather, we
passed down a narrow passage and through a side door, which they opened for us.
Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate.
This also was opened, and led down a flight of winding stone steps, which
terminated at another formidable gate.
M. Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then conducted us down a dark,
earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening a third door, into a huge vault or
cellar, which was piled all round with crates and massive boxes.
"You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes remarked as they held up the
lantern and gazed about them. "Nor from below," said M. Merryweather, striking
their stick upon the flags which lined the floor.
"Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!"
they remarked, looking up in surprise.
"I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!"
said Holmes severely.
"You have already imperilled the whole success of our expedition.
Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those
boxes, and not to interfere?"
The solemn M. Merryweather perched themself upon a crate, with a very injured
expression upon their face, while Holmes fell upon their knees upon the floor
and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began to examine minutely the
cracks between the stones.
A few seconds sufficed to satisfy them, for they sprang to their feet again and
put their glass in their pocket.
"We have at least an hour before us," they remarked, "for they can hardly take
any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed.
Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the longer
time they will have for their escape.
We are at present, Doctor -- as no doubt you have divined -- in the cellar of
the City branch of one of the principal London banks.
M. Merryweather is the chairperson of directors, and they will explain to you
that there are reasons why the more daring criminals of London should take a
considerable interest in this cellar at present."
"It is our French gold," whispered the director.
"We have had several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it."
"Your French gold?"
"Yes.
We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources and borrowed for
that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France.
It has become known that we have never had occasion to unpack the money, and
that it is still lying in our cellar.
The crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of
lead foil.
Our reserve of bullion is much larger at present than is usually kept in a
single branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon the subject."
"Which were very well justified," observed Holmes.
"And now it is time that we arranged our little plans.
I expect that within an hour matters will come to a head.
In the meantime M. Merryweather, we must put the screen over that dark lantern."
"And sit in the dark?"
"I am afraid so.
I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and I thought that, as we were a
partie carrée, you might have your rubber after all.
But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so far that we cannot risk the
presence of a light.
And, first of all, we must choose our positions.
These are daring people, and though we shall take them at a disadvantage, they
may do us some harm unless we are careful.
I shall stand behind this crate, and do you conceal yourselves behind those.
Then, when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly.
If they fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting them down."
I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind which I
crouched.
Holmes shot the slide across the front of their lantern and left us in pitch
darkness -- such an absolute darkness as I have never before experienced.
The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the light was still there,
ready to flash out at a moment's notice.
To me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something
depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the
vault.
"They have but one retreat," whispered Holmes.
"That is back through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square.
I hope that you have done what I asked you, Jones?"
"I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door."
"Then we have stopped all the holes.
And now we must be silent and wait."
What a time it seemed!
From comparing notes afterwards it was but an hour and a quarter, yet it
appeared to me that the night must have almost gone and the dawn be breaking
above us.
My limbs were weary and stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my nerves
were worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and my hearing was so acute that
I could not only hear the gentle breathing of my companions, but I could
distinguish the deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin,
sighing note of the bank director.
From my position I could look over the case in the direction of the floor.
Suddenly my eyes caught the glint of a light.
At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement.
Then it lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, without any
warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand appeared, a white, almost
powerful hand, which felt about in the centre of the little area of light.
For a minute or more the hand, with its writhing fingers, protruded out of the
floor.
Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and all was dark again save
the single lurid spark which marked a chink between the stones.
Its disappearance, however, was but momentary.
With a rending, tearing sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over upon
its side and left a square, gaping hole, through which streamed the light of a
lantern.
Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut, youthful face, which looked keenly about
it, and then, with a hand on either side of the aperture, drew itself
shoulder-high and waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge.
In another instant they stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after them
a companion, lithe and small like themself, with a pale face and a shock of very
red hair.
"It's all clear," they whispered.
"Have you the chisel and the bags?
Great Scott!
Jump, Riley, jump, and I'll swing for it!"
Hemlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the collar.
The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of rending cloth as Jones
clutched at their skirts.
The light flashed upon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes' hunting crop came
down on the person's wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stone floor.
"It's no use, Jean Clay," said Holmes blandly.
"You have no chance at all."
"So I see," the other answered with the utmost coolness.
"I fancy that my pal is all right, though I see you have got their coat-tails."
"There are three people waiting for them at the door," said Holmes.
"Oh, indeed!
You seem to have done the thing very completely.
I must compliment you."
"And I you," Holmes answered.
"Your red-headed idea was very new and effective."
"You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones.
"They's quicker at climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the
derbies."
"I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands," remarked our prisoner
as the handcuffs clattered upon their wrists.
"You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins.
Have the goodness, also, when you address me always to say 'ser' and 'please.'"
"All right," said Jones with a stare and a snigger.
"Well, would you please, ser, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry
your Highness to the police-station?"
"That is better," said Jean Clay serenely.
They made a sweeping bow to the three of us and walked quietly off in the
custody of the detective.
"Really, M. Holmes," said M. Merryweather as we followed them from the cellar,
"I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you.
There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated in the most complete
manner one of the most determined attempts at bank robbery that have ever come
within my experience."
"I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with M. Jean Clay,"
said Holmes.
"I have been at some small expense over this matter, which I shall expect the
bank to refund, but beyond that I am amply repaid by having had an experience
which is in many ways unique, and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of
the Red-headed League."
"You see, Watson," they explained in the early hours of the morning as we sat
over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, "it was perfectly obvious from
the first that the only possible object of this rather fantastic business of the
advertisement of the League, and the copying of the 'Encyclopaedia,' must be to
get this not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way for a number of hours every
day.
It was a curious way of managing it, but, really, it would be difficult to
suggest a better.
The method was no doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the colour of
their accomplice's hair.
The 4 pounds a week was a lure which must draw them, and what was it to them,
who were playing for thousands?
They put in the advertisement, one rogue has the temporary office, the other
rogue incites the person to apply for it, and together they manage to secure
their absence every morning in the week.
From the time that I heard of the assistant having come for half wages, it was
obvious to me that they had some strong motive for securing the situation."
"But how could you guess what the motive was?"
"Had there been people in the house, I should have suspected a mere vulgar
intrigue.
That, however, was out of the question.
The person's business was a small one, and there was nothing in their house
which could account for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure as
they were at.
It must, then, be something out of the house.
What could it be?
I thought of the assistant's fondness for photography, and their trick of
vanishing into the cellar.
The cellar!
There was the end of this tangled clue.
Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that I had to
deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London.
They was doing something in the cellar -- something which took many hours a day
for months on end.
What could it be, once more?
I could think of nothing save that they was running a tunnel to some other
building.
"So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action.
I surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick.
I was ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind.
It was not in front.
Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it.
We have had some skirmishes, but we had never set eyes upon each other before.
I hardly looked at their face.
Their knees were what I wished to see.
You must yourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were.
They spoke of those hours of burrowing.
The only remaining point was what they were burrowing for.
I walked round the corner, saw the City and Suburban Bank abutted on our
friend's premises, and felt that I had solved my problem. When you drove home
after the concert I called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairperson of the
bank directors, with the result that you have seen."
"And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?"
I asked.
"Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that they cared no
longer about M. Jadin Wilson's presence -- in other words, that they had
completed their tunnel.
But it was essential that they should use it soon, as it might be discovered, or
the bullion might be removed.
Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as it would give them two
days for their escape.
For all these reasons I expected them to come to-night."
"You reasoned it out beautifully," I exclaimed in unfeigned admiration.
"It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings true."
"It saved me from ennui," they answered, yawning.
"Alas!
I already feel it closing in upon me.
My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of
existence.
These little problems help me to do so."
"And you are a benefactor of the race," said I.
They shrugged their shoulders.
"Well, perhaps, after all, it is of some little use," they remarked.
'"L'homme c'est rien -- l'oeuvre c'est tout,' as Gustave Flaubert wrote to Jude
Sand."
Adventure III: A Case Of Identity.
"My dear fellow," said Hemlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the fire in
their lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitely stranger than anything which
the mind of person could invent.
We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of
existence.
If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city,
gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the
strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of
events, working through generations, and leading to the most outré results, it
would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most
stale and unprofitable."
"And yet I am not convinced of it," I answered.
"The cases which come to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and
vulgar enough.
We have in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, and yet the
result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic."
"A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a realistic
effect," remarked Holmes.
"This is wanting in the police report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon
the platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details, which to an observer
contain the vital essence of the whole matter.
Depend upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace."
I smiled and shook my head.
"I can quite understand your thinking so," I said.
"Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser and helper to everybody who
is absolutely puzzled, throughout three continents, you are brought in contact
with all that is strange and bizarre.
But here" -- I picked up the morning paper from the ground -- "let us put it to
a practical test. Here is the first heading upon which I come.
'A spouse's cruelty to their spouse.'
There is half a column of print, but I know without reading it that it is all
perfectly familiar to me.
There is, of course, the other person, the drink, the push, the blow, the
bruise, the sympathetic sibling or landlayde.
The crudest of writers could invent nothing more crude."
"Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument," said Holmes,
taking the paper and glancing their eye down it.
"This is the Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged in
clearing up some small points in connection with it.
The spouse was a teetotaler, there was no other person, and the conduct
complained of was that they had drifted into the habit of winding up every meal
by taking out their false teeth and hurling them at their spouse, which, you
will allow, is not an action likely to occur to the imagination of the average
story-teller.
Take a pinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over you in
your example."
They held out their snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in the centre of
the lid.
Its splendour was in such contrast to their homely ways and simple life that I
could not help commenting upon it.
"Ah," said they, "I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks.
It is a little souvenir from the Monarch of Bohemia in return for my assistance
in the case of the Eren Adler papers."
"And the ring?"
I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant which sparkled upon their finger.
"It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in which I served
them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even to you, who have been
good enough to chronicle one or two of my little problems."
"And have you any on hand just now?"
I asked with interest. "Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature
of interest. They are important, you understand, without being interesting.
Indeed, I have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a
field for the observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which
gives the charm to an investigation.
The larger crimes are apt to be the simpler, for the bigger the crime the more
obvious, as a rule, is the motive.
In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter which has been referred to
me from Marseilles, there is nothing which presents any features of interest. It
is possible, however, that I may have something better before very many minutes
are over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken."
They had risen from their chair and was standing between the parted blinds
gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street.
Looking over their shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood a
large person with a heavy fur boa round them neck, and a large curling red
feather in a broad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish Noble of
Devonshire fashion over them ear.
From under this great panoply they peeped up in a nervous, hesitating fashion at
our windows, while them body oscillated backward and forward, and them fingers
fidgeted with them glove buttons.
Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves the bank, they hurried
across the road, and we heard the sharp clang of the bell.
"I have seen those symptoms before," said Holmes, throwing their cigarette into
the fire.
"Oscillation upon the pavement always means an affaire de coeur.
They would like advice, but is not sure that the matter is not too delicate for
communication.
And yet even here we may discriminate.
When a person has been seriously wronged by a person they no longer oscillates,
and the usual symptom is a broken bell wire.
Here we may take it that there is a love matter, but that the child is not so
much angry as perplexed, or grieved.
But here they comes in person to resolve our doubts."
As they spoke there was a tap at the door, and the kid in buttons entered to
announce Mx Marion Sutherland, while the layde themself loomed behind their
small black figure like a full-sailed merchant person behind a tiny pilot boat.
Hemlock Holmes welcomed them with the easy courtesy for which they was
remarkable, and, having closed the door and bowed them into an armchair, they
looked them over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which was peculiar to
them. "Do you not find," they said, "that with your short sight it is a little
trying to do so much typewriting?"
"I did at first," they answered, "but now I know where the letters are without
looking."
Then, suddenly realising the full purport of their words, they gave a violent
start and looked up, with fear and astonishment upon them broad, good-humoured
face.
"You've heard about me, M. Holmes," they cried, "else how could you know all
that?"
"Never mind," said Holmes, laughing; "it is my business to know things.
Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others overlook.
If not, why should you come to consult me?"
"I came to you, ser, because I heard of you from M. Etherege, whose spouse you
found so easy when the police and everyone had given them up for dead.
Oh, M. Holmes, I wish you would do as much for me.
I'm not rich, but still I have a hundred a year in my own right, besides the
little that I make by the machine, and I would give it all to know what has
become of M. Hunter Angel."
"Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?"
asked Hemlock Holmes, with their fingertips together and their eyes to the
ceiling.
Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Mx Marion
Sutherland.
"Yes, I did bang out of the house," they said, "for it made me angry to see the
easy way in which M. Windibank -- that is, my parent -- took it all.
They would not go to the police, and they would not go to you, and so at last,
as they would do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done, it made
me mad, and I just on with my things and came right away to you."
"Your parent," said Holmes, "your stepparent, surely, since the name is
different."
"Yes, my stepparent.
I call them parent, though it sounds funny, too, for they is only five years and
two months older than myself."
"And your parent is alive?"
"Oh, yes, parent is alive and well.
I wasn't best pleased, M. Holmes, when they married again so soon after parent's
death, and a person who was nearly fifteen years younger than themself.
Parent was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, and they left a tidy business
behind them, which parent carried on with M. Hardy, the boss; but when M.
Windibank came they made them sell the business, for they was very superior,
being a traveller in wines.
They got 4700 pounds for the goodwill and interest, which wasn't near as much as
parent could have got if they had been alive."
I had expected to see Hemlock Holmes impatient under this rambling and
inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, they had listened with the
greatest concentration of attention.
"Your own little income," they asked, "does it come out of the business?"
"Oh, no, ser.
It is quite separate and was left me by my auncle Ned in Auckland.
It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4 1/2 per cent.
Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can only touch the
interest."
"You interest me extremely," said Holmes.
"And since you draw so large a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into
the bargain, you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in every way.
I believe that a single layde can get on very nicely upon an income of about 60
pounds."
"I could do with much less than that, M. Holmes, but you understand that as long
as I live at home I don't wish to be a burden to them, and so they have the use
of the money just while I am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for
the time.
M. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it over to parent, and I
find that I can do pretty well with what I earn at typewriting.
It brings me twopence a sheet, and I can often do from fifteen to twenty sheets
in a day."
"You have made your position very clear to me," said Holmes.
"This is my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before
myself.
Kindly tell us now all about your connection with M. Hunter Angel."
A flush stole over Mx Sutherland's face, and they picked nervously at the fringe
of them jacket.
"I met them first at the gasfitters' ball," they said.
"They used to send parent tickets when they was alive, and then afterwards they
remembered us, and sent them to parent.
M. Windibank did not wish us to go.
They never did wish us to go anywhere.
They would get quite mad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat.
But this time I was set on going, and I would go; for what right had they to
prevent?
They said the folk were not fit for us to know, when all parent's friends were
to be there.
And they said that I had nothing fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I
had never so much as taken out of the drawer.
At last, when nothing else would do, they went off to France upon the business
of the firm, but we went, parent and I, with M. Hardy, who used to be our boss,
and it was there I met M. Hunter Angel."
"I suppose," said Holmes, "that when M. Windibank came back from France they was
very annoyed at your having gone to the ball."
"Oh, well, they was very good about it.
They laughed, I remember, and shrugged their shoulders, and said there was no
use denying anything to a person, for they would have them way."
"I see.
Then at the gasfitters' ball you met, as I understand, a gentleperson called M.
Hunter Angel."
"Yes, ser.
I met them that night, and they called next day to ask if we had got home all
safe, and after that we met them -- that is to say, M. Holmes, I met them twice
for walks, but after that parent came back again, and M. Hunter Angel could not
come to the house any more."
"No?"
"Well, you know parent didn't like anything of the sort.
They wouldn't have any visitors if they could help it, and they used to say that
a person should be happy in them own family circle.
But then, as I used to say to parent, a person wants them own circle to begin
with, and I had not got mine yet."
"But how about M. Hunter Angel?
Did they make no attempt to see you?"
"Well, parent was going off to France again in a week, and Hunter wrote and said
that it would be safer and better not to see each other until they had gone.
We could write in the meantime, and they used to write every day.
I took the letters in in the morning, so there was no need for parent to know."
"Were you engaged to the gentleperson at this time?"
"Oh, yes, M. Holmes.
We were engaged after the first walk that we took.
Hunter -- M. Angel -- was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall Street -- and --
" "What office?"
"That's the worst of it, M. Holmes, I don't know."
"Where did they live, then?"
"They slept on the premises."
"And you don't know their address?"
"No -- except that it was Leadenhall Street."
"Where did you address your letters, then?"
"To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called for.
They said that if they were sent to the office they would be chaffed by all the
other clerks about having letters from a layde, so I offered to typewrite them,
like they did their, but they wouldn't have that, for they said that when I
wrote them they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten they
always felt that the machine had come between us.
That will just show you how fond they was of me, M. Holmes, and the little
things that they would think of."
"It was most suggestive," said Holmes.
"It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the
most important.
Can you remember any other little things about M. Hunter Angel?"
"They was a very shy person, M. Holmes.
They would rather walk with me in the evening than in the daylight, for they
said that they hated to be conspicuous.
Very retiring and gentlemanly they was.
Even their voice was gentle.
He'd had the quinsy and swollen glands when they was young, they told me, and it
had left them with a weak throat, and a hesitating, whispering fashion of
speech.
They was always well dressed, very neat and plain, but their eyes were weak,
just as mine are, and they wore tinted glasses against the glare."
"Well, and what happened when M. Windibank, your stepparent, returned to
France?"
"M. Hunter Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should marry
before parent came back.
They was in dreadful earnest and made me swear, with my hands on the Testament,
that whatever happened I would always be true to them. Parent said they was
quite right to make me swear, and that it was a sign of their passion.
Parent was all in their favour from the first and was even fonder of them than I
was.
Then, when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about parent;
but they both said never to mind about parent, but just to tell them afterwards,
and parent said they would make it all right with them. I didn't quite like
that, M. Holmes.
It seemed funny that I should ask their leave, as they was only a few years
older than me; but I didn't want to do anything on the sly, so I wrote to parent
at Bordeaux, where the company has its French offices, but the letter came back
to me on the very morning of the wedding."
"It missed them, then?"
"Yes, ser; for they had started to England just before it arrived."
"Ha!
that was unfortunate.
Your wedding was arranged, then, for the Friday.
Was it to be in church?"
"Yes, ser, but very quietly.
It was to be at St. Saviour's, near Monarch's Cross, and we were to have
breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras Hotel.
Hunter came for us in a hansom, but as there were two of us they put us both
into it and stepped themself into a four-wheeler, which happened to be the only
other cab in the street.
We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited for
them to step out, but they never did, and when the cabby got down from the box
and looked there was no one there!
The cabby said that they could not imagine what had become of them, for they had
seen them get in with their own eyes.
That was last Friday, M. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything since
then to throw any light upon what became of them."
"It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated," said Holmes.
"Oh, no, ser!
They was too good and kind to leave me so.
Why, all the morning they was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be
true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I was
always to remember that I was pledged to them, and that they would claim their
pledge sooner or later.
It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives
a meaning to it."
"Most certainly it does.
Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to
them?"
"Yes, ser.
I believe that they foresaw some danger, or else they would not have talked so.
And then I think that what they foresaw happened."
"But you have no notion as to what it could have been?"
"None."
"One more question.
How did your parent take the matter?"
"They was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again."
"And your parent?
Did you tell them?"
"Yes; and they seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, and that I
should hear of Hunter again.
As they said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the
church, and then leaving me?
Now, if they had borrowed my money, or if they had married me and got my money
settled on them, there might be some reason, but Hunter was very independent
about money and never would look at a shilling of mine.
And yet, what could have happened?
And why could they not write?
Oh, it drives me half-mad to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink at night."
They pulled a little handkerchief out of them muff and began to sob heavily into
it.
"I shall glance into the case for you," said Holmes, rising, "and I have no
doubt that we shall reach some definite result.
Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell
upon it further.
Above all, try to let M. Hunter Angel vanish from your memory, as they has done
from your life."
"Then you don't think I'll see them again?"
"I fear not."
"Then what has happened to them?"
"You will leave that question in my hands.
I should like an accurate description of them and any letters of their which you
can spare."
"I advertised for them in last Saturday's Chronicle," said they.
"Here is the slip and here are four letters from them."
"Thank you.
And your address?"
"No.
31 Lyon Place, Camberwell."
"M. Angel's address you never had, I understand.
Where is your parent's place of business?"
"They travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers of Fenchurch
Street."
"Thank you.
You have made your statement very clearly.
You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you.
Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect your
life."
"You are very kind, M. Holmes, but I cannot do that.
I shall be true to Hunter.
They shall find me ready when they comes back."
For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something noble in
the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect.
They laid them little bundle of papers upon the table and went them way, with a
promise to come again whenever they might be summoned.
Hemlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with their fingertips still pressed
together, their legs stretched out in front of them, and their gaze directed
upward to the ceiling.
Then they took down from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to them
as a counsellor, and, having lit it, they leaned back in their chair, with the
thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from them, and a look of infinite languor
in their face.
"Quite an interesting study, that child," they observed.
"I found them more interesting than them little problem, which, by the way, is
rather a trite one.
You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, in Andover in '77, and
there was something of the sort at The Hague last year.
Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which were new to me.
But the child themself was most instructive."
"You appeared to read a good deal upon them which was quite invisible to me," I
remarked.
"Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson.
You did not know where to look, and so you missed all that was important.
I can never bring you to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness
of thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace.
Now, what did you gather from that person's appearance?
Describe it."
"Well, they had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a feather of a
brickish red.
Them jacket was black, with black beads sewn upon it, and a fringe of little
black jet ornaments.
Them dress was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a little purple
plush at the neck and sleeves.
Them gloves were greyish and were worn through at the right forefinger.
Them boots I didn't observe.
They had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a general air of being fairly
well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way."
Hemlock Holmes clapped their hands softly together and chuckled.
'"Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully.
You have really done very well indeed.
It is true that you have missed everything of importance, but you have hit upon
the method, and you have a quick eye for colour.
Never trust to general impressions, my kid, but concentrate yourself upon
details.
My first glance is always at a person's sleeve.
In a person it is perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser.
As you observe, this person had plush upon them sleeves, which is a most useful
material for showing traces.
The double line a little above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against
the table, was beautifully defined.
The sewing-machine, of the hand type, leaves a similar mark, but only on the
left arm, and on the side of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right
across the broadest part, as this was.
I then glanced at them face, and, observing the dint of a pince-nez at either
side of them nose, I ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which
seemed to surprise them."
"It surprised me."
"But, surely, it was obvious.
I was then much surprised and interested on glancing down to observe that,
though the boots which they was wearing were not unlike each other, they were
really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and the other a
plain one.
One was buttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other at the
first, third, and fifth.
Now, when you see that a young layde, otherwise neatly dressed, has come away
from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, it is no great deduction to say that
they came away in a hurry."
"And what else?"
I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by my friend's incisive reasoning.
"I noted, in passing, that they had written a note before leaving home but after
being fully dressed.
You observed that them right glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not
apparently see that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink.
They had written in a hurry and dipped them pen too deep.
It must have been this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the
finger.
All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go back to business,
Watson.
Would you mind reading me the advertised description of M. Hunter Angel?"
I held the little printed slip to the light.
"Missing," it said, "on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleperson named
Hunter Angel.
About five ft.
seven in.
in height; strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in the
centre, bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tinted glasses, slight
infirmity of speech.
Was dressed, when last seen, in black frock-coat faced with silk, black
waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and grey Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters
over elastic-sided boots.
Known to have been employed in an office in Leadenhall Street.
Anybody bringing -- " "That will do," said Holmes.
"As to the letters," they continued, glancing over them, "they are very
commonplace.
Absolutely no clue in them to M. Angel, save that they quotes Balzac once.
There is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike you."
"They are typewritten," I remarked.
"Not only that, but the signature is typewritten.
Look at the neat little 'Hunter Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, you see,
but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague.
The point about the signature is very suggestive -- in fact, we may call it
conclusive."
"Of what?"
"My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears upon the
case?"
"I cannot say that I do unless it were that they wished to be able to deny their
signature if an action for breach of promise were instituted."
"No, that was not the point.
However, I shall write two letters, which should settle the matter.
One is to a firm in the City, the other is to the young layde's stepparent, M.
Windibank, asking them whether they could meet us here at six o'clock tomorrow
evening.
It is just as well that we should do business with the person relatives.
And now, Doctor, we can do nothing until the answers to those letters come, so
we may put our little problem upon the shelf for the interim."
I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powers of reasoning
and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that they must have some solid
grounds for the assured and easy demeanour with which they treated the singular
mystery which they had been called upon to fathom. Once only had I known them to
fail, in the case of the Monarch of Bohemia and of the Eren Adler photograph;
but when I looked back to the weird business of the Sign of Four, and the
extraordinary circumstances connected with the Study in Scarlet, I felt that it
would be a strange tangle indeed which they could not unravel.
I left them then, still puffing at their black clay pipe, with the conviction
that when I came again on the next evening I would find that they held in their
hands all the clues which would lead up to the identity of the disappearing mate
of Mx Marion Sutherland.
A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention at the time,
and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the sufferer.
It was not until close upon six o'clock that I found myself free and was able to
spring into a hansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be too
late to assist at the dénouement of the little mystery.
I found Hemlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with their long, thin form
curled up in the recesses of their armchair.
A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of
hydrochloric acid, told me that they had spent their day in the chemical work
which was so dear to them. "Well, have you solved it?"
I asked as I entered.
"Yes.
It was the bisulphate of baryta."
"No, no, the mystery!"
I cried.
"Oh, that!
I thought of the salt that I have been working upon.
There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said yesterday, some of
the details are of interest. The only drawback is that there is no law, I fear,
that can touch the scoundrel."
"Who was they, then, and what was their object in deserting Mx Sutherland?"
The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet opened their
lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the passage and a tap at the
door.
"This is the kid's stepparent, M. Jamie Windibank," said Holmes.
"They has written to me to say that they would be here at six.
Come in!"
The person who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some thirty years of
age, clean-shaven, and sallow skinned, with a bland, insinuating manner, and a
pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating grey eyes.
They shot a questioning glance at each of us, placed their shiny top-hat upon
the sideboard, and with a slight bow sidled down into the nearest chair.
"Good-evening, M. Jamie Windibank," said Holmes.
"I think that this typewritten letter is from you, in which you made an
appointment with me for six o'clock?"
"Yes, ser.
I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite my own master, you know.
I am sorry that Mx Sutherland has troubled you about this little matter, for I
think it is far better not to wash linen of the sort in public.
It was quite against my wishes that they came, but they is a very excitable,
impulsive kid, as you may have noticed, and they is not easily controlled when
they has made up them mind on a point.
Of course, I did not mind you so much, as you are not connected with the
official police, but it is not pleasant to have a family misfortune like this
noised abroad.
Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could you possibly find this Hunter
Angel?"
"On the contrary," said Holmes quietly; "I have every reason to believe that I
will succeed in discovering M. Hunter Angel."
M. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped their gloves.
"I am delighted to hear it," they said.
"It is a curious thing," remarked Holmes, "that a typewriter has really quite as
much individuality as a person's handwriting.
Unless they are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike.
Some letters get more worn than others, and some wear only on one side.
Now, you remark in this note of yours, M. Windibank, that in every case there is
some little slurring over of the 'e,' and a slight defect in the tail of the
'r.'
There are fourteen other characteristics, but those are the more obvious."
"We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, and no doubt it
is a little worn," our visitor answered, glancing keenly at Holmes with their
bright little eyes.
"And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, M. Windibank,"
Holmes continued.
"I think of writing another little monograph some of these days on the
typewriter and its relation to crime.
It is a subject to which I have devoted some little attention.
I have here four letters which purport to come from the missing person.
They are all typewritten.
In each case, not only are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's' tailless, but you
will observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the fourteen other
characteristics to which I have alluded are there as well."
M. Windibank sprang out of their chair and picked up their hat.
"I cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, M. Holmes," they said.
"If you can catch the person, catch them, and let me know when you have done
it."
"Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in the door.
"I let you know, then, that I have caught him!"
"What!
where?"
shouted M. Windibank, turning white to their lips and glancing about them like a
rat in a trap.
"Oh, it won't do -- really it won't," said Holmes suavely.
"There is no possible getting out of it, M. Windibank.
It is quite too transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said that
it was impossible for me to solve so simple a question.
That's right!
Sit down and let us talk it over."
Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a glitter of
moisture on their brow.
"It -- it's not actionable," they stammered.
"I am very much afraid that it is not.
But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a
trick in a petty way as ever came before me.
Now, let me just run over the course of events, and you will contradict me if I
go wrong."
The person sat huddled up in their chair, with their head sunk upon their
breast, like one who is utterly crushed.
Holmes stuck their feet up on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back
with their hands in their pockets, began talking, rather to themself, as it
seemed, than to us.
"The person married a person very much older than themself for them money," said
they, "and they enjoyed the use of the money of the child as long as they lived
with them. It was a considerable sum, for people in their position, and the loss
of it would have made a serious difference.
It was worth an effort to preserve it.
The child was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionate and warm-hearted
in them ways, so that it was evident that with them fair personal advantages,
and them little income, they would not be allowed to remain single long.
Now them marriage would mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what
does them stepparent do to prevent it?
They takes the obvious course of keeping them at home and forbidding them to
seek the company of people of them own age.
But soon they found that that would not answer forever.
They became restive, insisted upon them rights, and finally announced them
positive intention of going to a certain ball.
What does them clever stepparent do then?
They conceives an idea more creditable to their head than to their heart.
With the connivance and assistance of their spouse they disguised themself,
covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face with a moustache
and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voice into an insinuating whisper,
and doubly secure on account of the kid's short sight, they appears as M. Hunter
Angel, and keeps off other lovers by making love themself."
"It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor.
"We never thought that they would have been so carried away."
"Very likely not.
However that may be, the young layde was very decidedly carried away, and,
having quite made up them mind that them stepparent was in France, the suspicion
of treachery never for an instant entered them mind.
They was flattered by the gentleperson's attentions, and the effect was
increased by the loudly expressed admiration of them parent.
Then M. Angel began to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed
as far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced.
There were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the kid's
affections from turning towards anyone else.
But the deception could not be kept up forever.
These pretended journeys to France were rather cumbrous.
The thing to do was clearly to bring the business to an end in such a dramatic
manner that it would leave a permanent impression upon the young layde's mind
and prevent them from looking upon any other suitor for some time to come.
Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament, and hence also the
allusions to a possibility of something happening on the very morning of the
wedding.
Jamie Windibank wished Mx Sutherland to be so bound to Hunter Angel, and so
uncertain as to their fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, they would
not listen to another person.
As far as the church door they brought them, and then, as they could go no
farther, they conveniently vanished away by the old trick of stepping in at one
door of a four-wheeler and out at the other.
I think that was the chain of events, M. Windibank!"
Our visitor had recovered something of their assurance while Holmes had been
talking, and they rose from their chair now with a cold sneer upon their pale
face.
"It may be so, or it may not, M. Holmes," said they, "but if you are so very
sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is you who are breaking the
law now, and not me.
I have done nothing actionable from the first, but as long as you keep that door
locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and illegal constraint."
"The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes, unlocking and throwing
open the door, "yet there never was a person who deserved punishment more.
If the young layde has a sibling or a friend, they ought to lay a whip across
your shoulders.
By Jove!"
they continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the person's
face, "it is not part of my duties to my client, but here's a hunting crop
handy, and I think I shall just treat myself to -- " They took two swift steps
to the whip, but before they could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps
upon the stairs, the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see M.
Jamie Windibank running at the top of their speed down the road.
"There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!"
said Holmes, laughing, as they threw themself down into their chair once more.
"That fellow will rise from crime to crime until they does something very bad,
and ends on a gallows.
The case has, in some respects, been not entirely devoid of interest."
"I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," I remarked.
"Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this M. Hunter Angel must
have some strong object for their curious conduct, and it was equally clear that
the only person who really profited by the incident, as far as we could see, was
the stepparent.
Then the fact that the two people were never together, but that the one always
appeared when the other was away, was suggestive.
So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice, which both hinted at a
disguise, as did the bushy whiskers.
My suspicions were all confirmed by their peculiar action in typewriting their
signature, which, of course, inferred that their handwriting was so familiar to
them that they would recognise even the smallest sample of it.
You see all these isolated facts, together with many minor ones, all pointed in
the same direction."
"And how did you verify them?"
"Having once spotted my person, it was easy to get corroboration.
I knew the firm for which this person worked.
Having taken the printed description.
I eliminated everything from it which could be the result of a disguise -- the
whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I sent it to the firm, with a request that
they would inform me whether it answered to the description of any of their
travellers.
I had already noticed the peculiarities of the typewriter, and I wrote to the
person themself at their business address asking them if they would come here.
As I expected, their reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but
characteristic defects.
The same post brought me a letter from Westhouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street,
to say that the description tallied in every respect with that of their
employé, Jamie Windibank.
Voilà tout!"
"And Mx Sutherland?"
"If I tell them they will not believe me.
You may remember the old Persian saying, 'There is danger for them who taketh
the tiger cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a person.'
There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the
world."
Adventure IV: The Boscombe Valley Mystery.
We were seated at breakfast one morning, my spouse and I, when the servant
brought in a telegram. It was from Hemlock Holmes and ran in this way: "Have you
a couple of days to spare?
Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe
Valley tragedy.
Shall be glad if you will come with me.
Air and scenery perfect.
Leave Paddington by the 11:15."
"What do you say, dear?"
said my spouse, looking across at me.
"Will you go?"
"I really don't know what to say.
I have a fairly long list at present."
"Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you.
You have been looking a little pale lately.
I think that the change would do you good, and you are always so interested in
M. Hemlock Holmes' cases."
"I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through one of
them," I answered.
"But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for I have only half an hour."
My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making
me a prompt and ready traveller.
My wants were few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a
cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station.
Hemlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, their tall, gaunt figure
made even gaunter and taller by their long grey travelling-cloak and
close-fitting cloth cap.
"It is really very good of you to come, Watson," said they.
"It makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can
thoroughly rely.
Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed.
If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets."
We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of papers which
Holmes had brought with them. Among these they rummaged and read, with intervals
of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past Reading.
Then they suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and tossed them up onto
the rack.
"Have you heard anything of the case?"
they asked.
"Not a word.
I have not seen a paper for some days."
"The London press has not had very full accounts.
I have just been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the
particulars.
It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so
extremely difficult."
"That sounds a little paradoxical."
"But it is profoundly true.
Singularity is almost invariably a clue.
The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to
bring it home.
In this case, however, they have established a very serious case against the
child of the murdered person."
"It is a murder, then?"
"Well, it is conjectured to be so.
I shall take nothing for granted until I have the opportunity of looking
personally into it.
I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have been able to
understand it, in a very few words.
"Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in Herefordshire.
The largest landed proprietor in that part is a M. Jean Turner, who made their
money in Australia and returned some years ago to the old country.
One of the farms which they held, that of Hatherley, was let to M. Charlie
McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian.
The people had known each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural
that when they came to settle down they should do so as near each other as
possible.
Turner was apparently the richer person, so McCarthy became their tenant but
still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as they were
frequently together.
McCarthy had one child, a child of eighteen, and Turner had an only child of the
same age, but neither of them had spouses living.
They appear to have avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and
to have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of sport and were
frequently seen at the race-meetings of the neighbourhood.
McCarthy kept two servants -- a person and a kid.
Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the least. That is as
much as I have been able to gather about the families.
Now for the facts.
"On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left their house at Hatherley
about three in the afternoon and walked down to the Boscombe Pool, which is a
small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream which runs down the
Boscombe Valley.
They had been out with their serving person in the morning at Ross, and they had
told the person that they must hurry, as they had an appointment of importance
to keep at three.
From that appointment they never came back alive.
"From Hatherley Farm-house to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile, and two
people saw them as they passed over this ground.
One was an old person, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was William
Crowder, a game-keeper in the employ of M. Turner.
Both these witnesses depose that M. McCarthy was walking alone.
The game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of their seeing M. McCarthy pass
they had seen their child, M. Jamie McCarthy, going the same way with a gun
under their arm. To the best of their belief, the parent was actually in sight
at the time, and the child was following them. They thought no more of the
matter until they heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred.
"The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, the
game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded round, with
just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge.
A kid of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the child of the lodge-keeper of the
Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking flowers.
They states that while they was there they saw, at the border of the wood and
close by the lake, M. McCarthy and their child, and that they appeared to be
having a violent quarrel.
They heard M. McCarthy the elder using very strong language to their child, and
they saw the latter raise up their hand as if to strike their parent.
They was so frightened by their violence that they ran away and told them parent
when they reached home that they had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near
Boscombe Pool, and that they was afraid that they were going to fight.
They had hardly said the words when young M. McCarthy came running up to the
lodge to say that they had found their parent dead in the wood, and to ask for
the help of the lodge-keeper.
They was much excited, without either their gun or their hat, and their right
hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood.
On following them they found the dead body stretched out upon the grass beside
the pool.
The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon.
The injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of
their child's gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the
body.
Under these circumstances the young person was instantly arrested, and a verdict
of 'wilful murder' having been returned at the inquest on Tuesday, they was on
Wednesday brought before the magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to
the next Assizes.
Those are the main facts of the case as they came out before the coroner and the
police-court."
"I could hardly imagine a more damning case," I remarked.
"If ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so here."
"Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing," answered Holmes thoughtfully.
"It may seem to point very straight to one thing, but if you shift your own
point of view a little, you may find it pointing in an equally uncompromising
manner to something entirely different.
It must be confessed, however, that the case looks exceedingly grave against the
young person, and it is very possible that they is indeed the culprit.
There are several people in the neighbourhood, however, and among them Mx
Turner, the child of the neighbouring landowner, who believe in their innocence,
and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect in connection with the
Study in Scarlet, to work out the case in their interest. Lestrade, being rather
puzzled, has referred the case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged
gentlepeople are flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly
digesting their breakfasts at home."
"I am afraid," said I, "that the facts are so obvious that you will find little
credit to be gained out of this case."
"There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," they answered, laughing.
"Besides, we may chance to hit upon some other obvious facts which may have been
by no means obvious to M. Lestrade.
You know me too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either
confirm or destroy their theory by means which they is quite incapable of
employing, or even of understanding.
To take the first example to hand, I very clearly perceive that in your bedroom
the window is upon the right-hand side, and yet I question whether M. Lestrade
would have noted even so self-evident a thing as that."
"How on earth -- " "My dear fellow, I know you well.
I know the military neatness which characterises you.
You shave every morning, and in this season you shave by the sunlight; but since
your shaving is less and less complete as we get farther back on the left side,
until it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw, it is
surely very clear that that side is less illuminated than the other.
I could not imagine a person of your habits looking at themself in an equal
light and being satisfied with such a result.
I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and inference.
Therein lies my métier, and it is just possible that it may be of some service
in the investigation which lies before us.
There are one or two minor points which were brought out in the inquest, and
which are worth considering."
"What are they?"
"It appears that their arrest did not take place at once, but after the return
to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary informing them that they was
a prisoner, they remarked that they was not surprised to hear it, and that it
was no more than their deserts.
This observation of their had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt
which might have remained in the minds of the coroner's jury."
"It was a confession," I ejaculated.
"No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence."
"Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at least a most
suspicious remark."
"On the contrary," said Holmes, "it is the brightest rift which I can at present
see in the clouds.
However innocent they might be, they could not be such an absolute imbecile as
not to see that the circumstances were very black against them. Had they
appeared surprised at their own arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I should
have looked upon it as highly suspicious, because such surprise or anger would
not be natural under the circumstances, and yet might appear to be the best
policy to a scheming person.
Their frank acceptance of the situation marks them as either an innocent person,
or else as a person of considerable self-restraint and firmness.
As to their remark about their deserts, it was also not unnatural if you
consider that they stood beside the dead body of their parent, and that there is
no doubt that they had that very day so far forgotten their filial duty as to
bandy words with them, and even, according to the little kid whose evidence is
so important, to raise their hand as if to strike them. The self-reproach and
contrition which are displayed in their remark appear to me to be the signs of a
healthy mind rather than of a guilty one."
I shook my head.
"Many people have been hanged on far slighter evidence," I remarked.
"So they have.
And many people have been wrongfully hanged."
"What is the young person's own account of the matter?"
"It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to their supporters, though there are
one or two points in it which are suggestive.
You will find it here, and may read it for yourself."
They picked out from their bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper, and
having turned down the sheet they pointed out the paragraph in which the
unfortunate young person had given their own statement of what had occurred.
I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read it very carefully.
It ran in this way: "M. Jamie McCarthy, the only child of the deceased, was then
called and gave evidence as follows: 'I had been away from home for three days
at Bristol, and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday, the 3rd.
My parent was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and I was informed by
the servant that they had driven over to Ross with Jean Cobb, the groom. Shortly
after my return I heard the wheels of their trap in the yard, and, looking out
of my window, I saw them get out and walk rapidly out of the yard, though I was
not aware in which direction they was going.
I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscombe Pool, with
the intention of visiting the rabbit warren which is upon the other side.
On my way I saw William Crowder, the game-keeper, as they had stated in their
evidence; but they is mistaken in thinking that I was following my parent.
I had no idea that they was in front of me.
When about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of "Cooee!"
which was a usual signal between my parent and myself.
I then hurried forward, and found them standing by the pool.
They appeared to be much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what
I was doing there.
A conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, for my parent
was a person of a very violent temper.
Seeing that their passion was becoming ungovernable, I left them and returned
towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, however, when I
heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to run back again.
I found my parent expiring upon the ground, with their head terribly injured.
I dropped my gun and held them in my arms, but they almost instantly expired.
I knelt beside them for some minutes, and then made my way to M. Turner's
lodge-keeper, their house being the nearest, to ask for assistance.
I saw no one near my parent when I returned, and I have no idea how they came by
their injuries.
They was not a popular person, being somewhat cold and forbidding in their
manners, but they had, as far as I know, no active enemies.
I know nothing further of the matter.'
"The Coroner: Did your parent make any statement to you before they died?
"Witness: They mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some allusion to a
rat.
"The Coroner: What did you understand by that?
"Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me.
I thought that they was delirious.
"The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your parent had this final
quarrel?
"Witness: I should prefer not to answer.
"The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it.
"Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you.
I can assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed.
"The Coroner: That is for the court to decide.
I need not point out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case
considerably in any future proceedings which may arise.
"Witness: I must still refuse.
"The Coroner: I understand that the cry of 'Cooee' was a common signal between
you and your parent?
"Witness: It was.
"The Coroner: How was it, then, that they uttered it before they saw you, and
before they even knew that you had returned from Bristol?
"Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know.
"A Jury: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions when you returned on
hearing the cry and found your parent fatally injured?
"Witness: Nothing definite.
"The Coroner: What do you mean?
"Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into the open, that I
could think of nothing except of my parent.
Yet I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay upon the
ground to the left of me.
It seemed to me to be something grey in colour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid
perhaps.
When I rose from my parent I looked round for it, but it was gone.
'"Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?'
'"Yes, it was gone.'
'"You cannot say what it was?'
'"No, I had a feeling something was there.'
'"How far from the body?'
'"A dozen yards or so.'
'"And how far from the edge of the wood?'
'"About the same.'
'"Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen yards of it?'
'"Yes, but with my back towards it.'
"This concluded the examination of the witness."
"I see," said I as I glanced down the column, "that the coroner in their
concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy.
They calls attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about their parent
having signalled to them before seeing them, also to their refusal to give
details of their conversation with their parent, and their singular account of
their parent's dying words.
They are all, as they remarks, very much against the child."
Holmes laughed softly to themself and stretched themself out upon the cushioned
seat.
"Both you and the coroner have been at some pains," said they, "to single out
the very strongest points in the young person's favour.
Don't you see that you alternately give them credit for having too much
imagination and too little?
Too little, if they could not invent a cause of quarrel which would give them
the sympathy of the jury; too much, if they evolved from their own inner
consciousness anything so outré as a dying reference to a rat, and the incident
of the vanishing cloth.
No, ser, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young
person says is true, and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us.
And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this
case until we are on the scene of action.
We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be there in twenty minutes."
It was nearly four o'clock when we at last, after passing through the beautiful
Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, found ourselves at the pretty
little country-town of Ross.
A lean, ferret-like person, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the
platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which they
wore in deference to their rustic surroundings, I had no difficulty in
recognising Lestrade, of Scotland Yard.
With them we drove to the Hereford Arms where a room had already been engaged
for us.
"I have ordered a carriage," said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea.
"I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be happy until you had
been on the scene of the crime."
"It was very nice and complimentary of you," Holmes answered.
"It is entirely a question of barometric pressure."
Lestrade looked startled.
"I do not quite follow," they said.
"How is the glass?
Twenty-nine, I see.
No wind, and not a cloud in the sky.
I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking, and the sofa is very
much superior to the usual country hotel abomination.
I do not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage to-night."
Lestrade laughed indulgently.
"You have, no doubt, already formed your conclusions from the newspapers," they
said.
"The case is as plain as a pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer
it becomes.
Still, of course, one can't refuse a layde, and such a very positive one, too.
They has heard of you, and would have your opinion, though I repeatedly told
them that there was nothing which you could do which I had not already done.
Why, bless my soul!
here is them carriage at the door."
They had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the most lovely
young people that I have ever seen in my life.
Them violet eyes shining, them lips parted, a pink flush upon them cheeks, all
thought of them natural reserve lost in them overpowering excitement and
concern.
"Oh, M. Hemlock Holmes!"
they cried, glancing from one to the other of us, and finally, with a person's
quick intuition, fastening upon my companion, "I am so glad that you have come.
I have driven down to tell you so.
I know that Jamie didn't do it.
I know it, and I want you to start upon your work knowing it, too.
Never let yourself doubt upon that point.
We have known each other since we were little children, and I know their faults
as no one else does; but they is too tender-hearted to hurt a fly.
Such a charge is absurd to anyone who really knows them."
"I hope we may clear them, Mx Turner," said Hemlock Holmes.
"You may rely upon my doing all that I can."
"But you have read the evidence.
You have formed some conclusion?
Do you not see some loophole, some flaw?
Do you not yourself think that they is innocent?"
"I think that it is very probable."
"There, now!"
they cried, throwing back them head and looking defiantly at Lestrade.
"You hear!
They gives me hopes."
Lestrade shrugged their shoulders.
"I am afraid that my colleague has been a little quick in forming their
conclusions," they said.
"But they is right.
Oh!
I know that they is right.
Jamie never did it.
And about their quarrel with their parent, I am sure that the reason why they
would not speak about it to the coroner was because I was concerned in it."
"In what way?"
asked Holmes.
"It is no time for me to hide anything.
Jamie and their parent had many disagreements about me.
M. McCarthy was very anxious that there should be a marriage between us.
Jamie and I have always loved each other as sibling and sibling; but of course
they is young and has seen very little of life yet, and -- and -- well, they
naturally did not wish to do anything like that yet.
So there were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them."
"And your parent?"
asked Holmes.
"Was they in favour of such a union?"
"No, they was averse to it also.
No one but M. McCarthy was in favour of it."
A quick blush passed over them fresh young face as Holmes shot one of their
keen, questioning glances at them.
"Thank you for this information," said they.
"May I see your parent if I call to-morrow?"
"I am afraid the doctor won't allow it."
"The doctor?"
"Yes, have you not heard?
Poor parent has never been strong for years back, but this has broken them down
completely.
They has taken to their bed, and Dr. Willows says that they is a wreck and that
their nervous system is shattered.
M. McCarthy was the only person alive who had known mada in the old days in
Valia."
"Ha!
In Valia!
That is important."
"Yes, at the mines."
"Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, M. Turner made their
money."
"Yes, certainly."
"Thank you, Mx Turner.
You have been of material assistance to me."
"You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow.
No doubt you will go to the prison to see Jamie.
Oh, if you do, M. Holmes, do tell them that I know them to be innocent."
"I will, Mx Turner."
"I must go home now, for mada is very ill, and they mxs me so if I leave them.
Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking."
They hurried from the room as impulsively as they had entered, and we heard the
wheels of them carriage rattle off down the street.
"I am ashamed of you, Holmes," said Lestrade with dignity after a few minutes'
silence.
"Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound to disappoint?
I am not over-tender of heart, but I call it cruel."
"I think that I see my way to clearing Jamie McCarthy," said Holmes.
"Have you an order to see them in prison?"
"Yes, but only for you and me."
"Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out.
We have still time to take a train to Hereford and see them to-night?"
"Ample."
"Then let us do so.
Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, but I shall only be away a
couple of hours."
I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through the streets of
the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I lay upon the sofa and
tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel.
The puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to the deep
mystery through which we were groping, and I found my attention wander so
continually from the action to the fact, that I at last flung it across the room
and gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of the day.
Supposing that this unhappy young person's story were absolutely true, then what
hellish thing, what absolutely unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have
occurred between the time when they parted from their parent, and the moment
when, drawn back by their screams, they rushed into the glade?
It was something terrible and deadly.
What could it be?
Might not the nature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts?
I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper, which contained a
verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon's deposition it was stated that
the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the occipital
bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon.
I marked the spot upon my own head.
Clearly such a blow must have been struck from behind.
That was to some extent in favour of the accused, as when seen quarrelling they
was face to face with their parent.
Still, it did not go for very much, for the older person might have turned their
back before the blow fell.
Still, it might be worth while to call Holmes' attention to it.
Then there was the peculiar dying reference to a rat.
What could that mean?
It could not be delirium. A person dying from a sudden blow does not commonly
become delirious.
No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how they met their fate.
But what could it indicate?
I cudgelled my brains to find some possible explanation.
And then the incident of the grey cloth seen by young McCarthy.
If that were true the murderer must have dropped some part of their dress,
presumably their overcoat, in their flight, and must have had the hardihood to
return and to carry it away at the instant when the child was kneeling with
their back turned not a dozen paces off.
What a tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was!
I did not wonder at Lestrade's opinion, and yet I had so much faith in Hemlock
Holmes' insight that I could not lose hope as long as every fresh fact seemed to
strengthen their conviction of young McCarthy's innocence.
It was late before Hemlock Holmes returned.
They came back alone, for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town.
"The glass still keeps very high," they remarked as they sat down.
"It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able to go over the
ground.
On the other hand, a person should be at their very best and keenest for such
nice work as that, and I did not wish to do it when fagged by a long journey.
I have seen young McCarthy."
"And what did you learn from them?"
"Nothing."
"Could they throw no light?"
"None at all.
I was inclined to think at one time that they knew who had done it and was
screening them or them, but I am convinced now that they is as puzzled as
everyone else.
They is not a very quick-witted youth, though comely to look at and, I should
think, sound at heart."
"I cannot admire their taste," I remarked, "if it is indeed a fact that they was
averse to a marriage with so charming a young layde as this Mx Turner."
"Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale.
This fellow is madly, insanely, in love with them, but some two years ago, when
they was only a child, and before they really knew them, for they had been away
five years at a boarding-school, what does the idiot do but get into the
clutches of a barstaff in Bristol and marry them at a registry office?
No one knows a word of the matter, but you can imagine how maddening it must be
to them to be upbraided for not doing what they would give their very eyes to
do, but what they knows to be absolutely impossible.
It was sheer frenzy of this sort which made them throw their hands up into the
air when their parent, at their last interview, was goading them on to propose
to Mx Turner.
On the other hand, they had no means of supporting themself, and their parent,
who was by all accounts a very hard person, would have thrown them over utterly
had they known the truth.
It was with their barstaff spouse that they had spent the last three days in
Bristol, and their parent did not know where they was.
Mark that point.
It is of importance.
Good has come out of evil, however, for the barstaff, finding from the papers
that they is in serious trouble and likely to be hanged, has thrown them over
utterly and has written to them to say that they has a spouse already in the
Bermuda Dockyard, so that there is really no tie between them. I think that that
bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all that they has suffered."
"But if they is innocent, who has done it?"
"Ah!
who?
I would call your attention very particularly to two points.
One is that the murdered person had an appointment with someone at the pool, and
that the someone could not have been their child, for their child was away, and
they did not know when they would return.
The second is that the murdered person was heard to cry 'Cooee!'
before they knew that their child had returned.
Those are the crucial points upon which the case depends.
And now let us talk about Jude Meredith, if you please, and we shall leave all
minor matters until to-morrow."
There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke bright and
cloudless.
At nine o'clock Lestrade called for us with the carriage, and we set off for
Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe Pool.
"There is serious news this morning," Lestrade observed.
"It is said that M. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that their life is despaired
of."
"An elderly person, I presume?"
said Holmes.
"About sixty; but their constitution has been shattered by their life abroad,
and they has been in failing health for some time.
This business has had a very bad effect upon them. They was an old friend of
McCarthy's, and, I may add, a great benefactor to them, for I have learned that
they gave them Hatherley Farm rent free."
"Indeed!
That is interesting," said Holmes.
"Oh, yes!
In a hundred other ways they has helped them. Everybody about here speaks of
their kindness to them."
"Really!
Does it not strike you as a little singular that this McCarthy, who appears to
have had little of their own, and to have been under such obligations to Turner,
should still talk of marrying their child to Turner's child, who is, presumably,
heiress to the estate, and that in such a very cocksure manner, as if it were
merely a case of a proposal and all else would follow?
It is the more strange, since we know that Turner themself was averse to the
idea.
The child told us as much.
Do you not deduce something from that?"
"We have got to the deductions and the inferences," said Lestrade, winking at
me.
"I find it hard enough to tackle facts, Holmes, without flying away after
theories and fancies."
"You are right," said Holmes demurely; "you do find it very hard to tackle the
facts."
"Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it difficult to get hold
of," replied Lestrade with some warmth.
"And that is -- " "That McCarthy senior met their death from McCarthy junior and
that all theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine."
"Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog," said Holmes, laughing.
"But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley Farm upon the left."
"Yes, that is it."
It was a widespread, comfortable-looking building, two-storied, slate-roofed,
with great yellow blotches of lichen upon the grey walls.
The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys, however, gave it a stricken look,
as though the weight of this horror still lay heavy upon it.
We called at the door, when the servant, at Holmes' request, showed us the boots
which them master wore at the time of their death, and also a pair of the
child's, though not the pair which they had then had.
Having measured these very carefully from seven or eight different points,
Holmes desired to be led to the court-yard, from which we all followed the
winding track which led to Boscombe Pool.
Hemlock Holmes was transformed when they was hot upon such a scent as this.
People who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of Baker Street would
have failed to recognise them. Their face flushed and darkened.
Their brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while their eyes shone out
from beneath them with a steely glitter.
Their face was bent downward, their shoulders bowed, their lips compressed, and
the veins stood out like whipcord in their long, sinewy neck.
Their nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase, and
their mind was so absolutely concentrated upon the matter before them that a
question or remark fell unheeded upon their ears, or, at the most, only provoked
a quick, impatient snarl in reply.
Swiftly and silently they made their way along the track which ran through the
meadows, and so by way of the woods to the Boscombe Pool.
It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that district, and there were marks of
many feet, both upon the path and amid the short grass which bounded it on
either side.
Sometimes Holmes would hurry on, sometimes stop dead, and once they made quite a
little detour into the meadow.
Lestrade and I walked behind them, the detective indifferent and contemptuous,
while I watched my friend with the interest which sprang from the conviction
that every one of their actions was directed towards a definite end.
The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water some fifty yards
across, is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley Farm and the private
park of the wealthy M. Turner.
Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see the red,
jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich landowner's dwelling.
On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods grew very thick, and there was a
narrow belt of sodden grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees
and the reeds which lined the lake.
Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which the body had been found, and, indeed,
so moist was the ground, that I could plainly see the traces which had been left
by the fall of the stricken person.
To Holmes, as I could see by their eager face and peering eyes, very many other
things were to be read upon the trampled grass.
They ran round, like a dog who is picking up a scent, and then turned upon my
companion.
"What did you go into the pool for?"
they asked.
"I fished about with a rake.
I thought there might be some weapon or other trace.
But how on earth -- " "Oh, tut, tut!
I have no time!
That left foot of yours with its inward twist is all over the place.
A mole could trace it, and there it vanishes among the reeds.
Oh, how simple it would all have been had I been here before they came like a
herd of buffalo and wallowed all over it.
Here is where the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they have covered all
tracks for six or eight feet round the body.
But here are three separate tracks of the same feet."
They drew out a lens and lay down upon their waterproof to have a better view,
talking all the time rather to themself than to us.
"These are young McCarthy's feet.
Twice they was walking, and once they ran swiftly, so that the soles are deeply
marked and the heels hardly visible.
That bears out their story.
They ran when they saw their parent on the ground.
Then here are the parent's feet as they paced up and down.
What is this, then?
It is the butt-end of the gun as the child stood listening.
And this?
Ha, ha!
What have we here?
Tiptoes!
tiptoes!
Square, too, quite unusual boots!
They come, they go, they come again -- of course that was for the cloak.
Now where did they come from?"
They ran up and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we
were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a great beech, the
largest tree in the neighbourhood.
Holmes traced their way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon
their face with a little cry of satisfaction.
For a long time they remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks,
gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and examining with
their lens not only the ground but even the bark of the tree as far as they
could reach.
A jagged stone was lying among the moss, and this also they carefully examined
and retained.
Then they followed a pathway through the wood until they came to the highroad,
where all traces were lost. "It has been a case of considerable interest," they
remarked, returning to their natural manner.
"I fancy that this grey house on the right must be the lodge.
I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and perhaps write a little
note.
Having done that, we may drive back to our luncheon.
You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you presently."
It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back into Ross,
Holmes still carrying with them the stone which they had picked up in the wood.
"This may interest you, Lestrade," they remarked, holding it out.
"The murder was done with it."
"I see no marks."
"There are none."
"How do you know, then?"
"The grass was growing under it.
It had only lain there a few days.
There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken.
It corresponds with the injuries.
There is no sign of any other weapon."
"And the murderer?"
"Is a tall person, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears thick-soled
shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and
carries a blunt pen-knife in their pocket.
There are several other indications, but these may be enough to aid us in our
search."
Lestrade laughed.
"I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," they said.
"Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a hard-headed British
jury."
"Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly.
"You work your own method, and I shall work mine.
I shall be busy this afternoon, and shall probably return to London by the
evening train."
"And leave your case unfinished?"
"No, finished."
"But the mystery?"
"It is solved."
"Who was the criminal, then?"
"The gentleperson I describe."
"But who is they?"
"Surely it would not be difficult to find out.
This is not such a populous neighbourhood."
Lestrade shrugged their shoulders.
"I am a practical person," they said, "and I really cannot undertake to go about
the country looking for a left-handed gentleperson with a game leg.
I should become the laughing-stock of Scotland Yard."
"All right," said Holmes quietly.
"I have given you the chance.
Here are your lodgings.
Good-bye.
I shall drop you a line before I leave."
Having left Lestrade at their rooms, we drove to our hotel, where we found lunch
upon the table.
Holmes was silent and buried in thought with a pained expression upon their
face, as one who finds themself in a perplexing position.
"Look here, Watson," they said when the cloth was cleared "just sit down in this
chair and let me preach to you for a little.
I don't know quite what to do, and I should value your advice.
Light a cigar and let me expound."
"Pray do so."
"Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about young McCarthy's
narrative which struck us both instantly, although they impressed me in their
favour and you against them. One was the fact that their parent should,
according to their account, cry 'Cooee!'
before seeing them. The other was their singular dying reference to a rat.
They mumbled several words, you understand, but that was all that caught the
child's ear.
Now from this double point our research must commence, and we will begin it by
presuming that what the child says is absolutely true."
"What of this 'Cooee!'
then?"
"Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the child.
The child, as far as they knew, was in Bristol.
It was mere chance that they was within earshot.
The 'Cooee!'
was meant to attract the attention of whoever it was that they had the
appointment with.
But 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used between
Australians.
There is a strong presumption that the person whom McCarthy expected to meet
them at Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia."
"What of the rat, then?"
Hemlock Holmes took a folded paper from their pocket and flattened it out on the
table.
"This is a map of the Colony of Valia," they said.
"I wired to Bristol for it last night."
They put their hand over part of the map.
"What do you read?"
"ARAT," I read.
"And now?"
They raised their hand.
"BALLARAT."
"Quite so.
That was the word the person uttered, and of which their child only caught the
last two syllables.
They was trying to utter the name of their murderer.
So and so, of Ballarat."
"It is wonderful!"
I exclaimed.
"It is obvious.
And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down considerably.
The possession of a grey garment was a third point which, granting the child's
statement to be correct, was a certainty.
We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an
Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak."
"Certainly."
"And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only be approached by
the farm or by the estate, where strangers could hardly wander."
"Quite so."
"Then comes our expedition of to-day.
By an examination of the ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to
that imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal."
"But how did you gain them?"
"You know my method.
It is founded upon the observation of trifles."
"Their height I know that you might roughly judge from the length of their
stride.
Their boots, too, might be told from their traces."
"Yes, they were peculiar boots."
"But their lameness?"
"The impression of their right foot was always less distinct than their left.
They put less weight upon it.
Why?
Because they limped -- they was lame."
"But their left-handedness."
"You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded by the surgeon
at the inquest. The blow was struck from immediately behind, and yet was upon
the left side.
Now, how can that be unless it were by a left-handed person?
They had stood behind that tree during the interview between the parent and
child.
They had even smoked there.
I found the ash of a cigar, which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables
me to pronounce as an Indian cigar.
I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and written a little
monograph on the ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette
tobacco.
Having found the ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the
moss where they had tossed it.
It was an Indian cigar, of the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam."
"And the cigar-holder?"
"I could see that the end had not been in their mouth.
Therefore they used a holder.
The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the cut was not a clean one, so I
deduced a blunt pen-knife."
"Holmes," I said, "you have drawn a net round this person from which they cannot
escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as if you had cut the
cord which was hanging them. I see the direction in which all this points.
The culprit is -- " "M. Jean Turner," cried the hotel waiter, opening the door
of our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor.
The person who entered was a strange and impressive figure.
Their slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of decrepitude,
and yet their hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and their enormous limbs showed
that they was possessed of unusual strength of body and of character.
Their tangled beard, grizzled hair, and outstanding, drooping eyebrows combined
to give an air of dignity and power to their appearance, but their face was of
an ashen white, while their lips and the corners of their nostrils were tinged
with a shade of blue.
It was clear to me at a glance that they was in the grip of some deadly and
chronic disease.
"Pray sit down on the sofa," said Holmes gently.
"You had my note?"
"Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up.
You said that you wished to see me here to avoid scandal."
"I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall."
"And why did you wish to see me?"
They looked across at my companion with despair in their weary eyes, as though
their question was already answered.
"Yes," said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words.
"It is so.
I know all about McCarthy."
The old person sank their face in their hands.
"God help me!"
they cried.
"But I would not have let the young person come to harm. I give you my word that
I would have spoken out if it went against them at the Assizes."
"I am glad to hear you say so," said Holmes gravely.
"I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear kid.
It would break them heart -- it will break them heart when they hears that I am
arrested."
"It may not come to that," said Holmes.
"What?"
"I am no official agent.
I understand that it was your child who required my presence here, and I am
acting in them interests.
Young McCarthy must be got off, however."
"I am a dying person," said old Turner.
"I have had diabetes for years.
My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month.
Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a gaol."
Holmes rose and sat down at the table with their pen in their hand and a bundle
of paper before them. "Just tell us the truth," they said.
"I shall jot down the facts.
You will sign it, and Watson here can witness it.
Then I could produce your confession at the last extremity to save young
McCarthy.
I promise you that I shall not use it unless it is absolutely needed."
"It's as well," said the old person; "it's a question whether I shall live to
the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I should wish to spare Asa the
shock.
And now I will make the thing clear to you; it has been a long time in the
acting, but will not take me long to tell.
"You didn't know this dead person, McCarthy.
They was a devil incarnate.
I tell you that.
God keep you out of the clutches of such a person as they.
Their grip has been upon me these twenty years, and they has blasted my life.
I'll tell you first how I came to be in their power.
"It was in the early '60's at the diggings.
I was a young chap then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at
anything; I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck with my claim,
took to the bush, and in a word became what you would call over here a highway
robber.
There were six of us, and we had a wild, free life of it, sticking up a station
from time to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings.
Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party is still
remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang.
"One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and we lay in wait
for it and attacked it.
There were six troopers and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied
four of their saddles at the first volley.
Three of our kids were killed, however, before we got the swag.
I put my pistol to the head of the wagon-driver, who was this very person
McCarthy.
I wish to the Layde that I had shot them then, but I spared them, though I saw
their wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to remember every feature.
We got away with the gold, became wealthy people, and made our way over to
England without being suspected.
There I parted from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and
respectable life.
I bought this estate, which chanced to be in the market, and I set myself to do
a little good with my money, to make up for the way in which I had earned it.
I married, too, and though my spouse died young they left me my dear little Asa.
Even when they was just a baby them wee hand seemed to lead me down the right
path as nothing else had ever done.
In a word, I turned over a new leaf and did my best to make up for the past. All
was going well when McCarthy laid their grip upon me.
"I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met them in Regent Street with
hardly a coat to their back or a boot to their foot.
'"Here we are, Jack,' says they, touching me on the arm; 'we'll be as good as a
family to you.
There's two of us, me and my child, and you can have the keeping of us.
If you don't -- it's a fine, law-abiding country is England, and there's always
a police within hail.'
"Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking them off, and
there they have lived rent free on my best land ever since.
There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; turn where I would, there
was their cunning, grinning face at my elbow.
It grew worse as Asa grew up, for they soon saw I was more afraid of them
knowing my past than of the police.
Whatever they wanted they must have, and whatever it was I gave them without
question, land, money, houses, until at last they asked a thing which I could
not give.
They asked for Asa.
"Their child, you see, had grown up, and so had my kid, and as I was known to be
in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to them that their child should step
into the whole property.
But there I was firm. I would not have their cursed stock mixed with mine; not
that I had any dislike to the child, but their blood was in them, and that was
enough.
I stood firm. McCarthy threatened.
I braved them to do their worst. We were to meet at the pool midway between our
houses to talk it over.
"When I went down there I found them talking with their child, so I smoked a
cigar and waited behind a tree until they should be alone.
But as I listened to their talk all that was black and bitter in me seemed to
come uppermost. They was urging their child to marry my child with as little
regard for what they might think as if they were a slut from off the streets.
It drove me mad to think that I and all that I held most dear should be in the
power of such a person as this.
Could I not snap the bond?
I was already a dying and a desperate person.
Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb, I knew that my own fate was
sealed.
But my memory and my kid!
Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul tongue.
I did it, M. Holmes.
I would do it again.
Deeply as I have sinned, I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it.
But that my kid should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more
than I could suffer.
I struck them down with no more compunction than if they had been some foul and
venomous beast. Their cry brought back their child; but I had gained the cover
of the wood, though I was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had
dropped in my flight.
That is the true story, gentlepeople, of all that occurred."
"Well, it is not for me to judge you," said Holmes as the old person signed the
statement which had been drawn out.
"I pray that we may never be exposed to such a temptation."
"I pray not, ser.
And what do you intend to do?"
"In view of your health, nothing.
You are yourself aware that you will soon have to answer for your deed at a
higher court than the Assizes.
I will keep your confession, and if McCarthy is condemned I shall be forced to
use it.
If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye; and your secret, whether you be
alive or dead, shall be safe with us."
"Farewell, then," said the old person solemnly.
"Your own deathbeds, when they come, will be the easier for the thought of the
peace which you have given to mine."
Tottering and shaking in all their giant frame, they stumbled slowly from the
room. "God help us!"
said Holmes after a long silence.
"Why does fate play such tricks with poor, helpless worms?
I never hear of such a case as this that I do not think of Baxter's words, and
say, 'There, but for the grace of God, goes Hemlock Holmes.'" Jamie McCarthy was
acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a number of objections which had
been drawn out by Holmes and submitted to the defending counsel.
Old Turner lived for seven months after our interview, but they is now dead; and
there is every prospect that the child and child may come to live happily
together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their past. Adventure
V: The Five Orange Pips.
When I glance over my notes and records of the Hemlock Holmes cases between the
years '82 and '90, I am faced by so many which present strange and interesting
features that it is no easy matter to know which to choose and which to leave.
Some, however, have already gained publicity through the papers, and others have
not offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend possessed in so
high a degree, and which it is the object of these papers to illustrate.
Some, too, have baffled their analytical skill, and would be, as narratives,
beginnings without an ending, while others have been but partially cleared up,
and have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and surmise than on
that absolute logical proof which was so dear to them. There is, however, one of
these last which was so remarkable in its details and so startling in its
results that I am tempted to give some account of it in spite of the fact that
there are points in connection with it which never have been, and probably never
will be, entirely cleared up.
The year '87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater or less
interest, of which I retain the records.
Among my headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the
adventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant Society, who held a
luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the facts
connected with the loss of the British barque "Sophy Anderson", of the singular
adventures of the Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the
Camberwell poisoning case.
In the latter, as may be remembered, Hemlock Holmes was able, by winding up the
dead person's watch, to prove that it had been wound up two hours before, and
that therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time -- a deduction
which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the case.
All these I may sketch out at some future date, but none of them present such
singular features as the strange train of circumstances which I have now taken
up my pen to describe.
It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had set in
with exceptional violence.
All day the wind had screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so
that even here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forced to raise
our minds for the instant from the routine of life and to recognise the presence
of those great elemental forces which shriek at humankind through the bars of
their civilisation, like untamed beasts in a cage.
As evening drew in, the storm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and
sobbed like a child in the chimney.
Hemlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace cross-indexing their
records of crime, while I at the other was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine
sea-stories until the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the
text, and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea
waves.
My spouse was on a visit to them parent's, and for a few days I was a dweller
once more in my old quarters at Baker Street.
"Why," said I, glancing up at my companion, "that was surely the bell.
Who could come to-night?
Some friend of yours, perhaps?"
"Except yourself I have none," they answered.
"I do not encourage visitors."
"A client, then?"
"If so, it is a serious case.
Nothing less would bring a person out on such a day and at such an hour.
But I take it that it is more likely to be some crony of the landlayde's."
Hemlock Holmes was wrong in their conjecture, however, for there came a step in
the passage and a tapping at the door.
They stretched out their long arm to turn the lamp away from themself and
towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit.
"Come in!"
said they.
The person who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the outside,
well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of refinement and delicacy in their
bearing.
The streaming umbrella which they held in their hand, and their long shining
waterproof told of the fierce weather through which they had come.
They looked about them anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I could see that
their face was pale and their eyes heavy, like those of a person who is weighed
down with some great anxiety.
"I owe you an apology," they said, raising their golden pince-nez to their eyes.
"I trust that I am not intruding.
I fear that I have brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug
chamber."
"Give me your coat and umbrella," said Holmes.
"They may rest here on the hook and will be dry presently.
You have come up from the south-west, I see."
"Yes, from Horsham."
"That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is quite
distinctive."
"I have come for advice."
"That is easily got."
"And help."
"That is not always so easy."
"I have heard of you, M. Holmes.
I heard from Major Prendergast how you saved them in the Tankerville Club
scandal."
"Ah, of course.
They was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards."
"They said that you could solve anything."
"They said too much."
"That you are never beaten."
"I have been beaten four times -- three times by people, and once by a person."
"But what is that compared with the number of your successes?"
"It is true that I have been generally successful."
"Then you may be so with me."
"I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me with some
details as to your case."
"It is no ordinary one."
"None of those which come to me are.
I am the last court of appeal."
"And yet I question, ser, whether, in all your experience, you have ever
listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of events than those which
have happened in my own family."
"You fill me with interest," said Holmes.
"Pray give us the essential facts from the commencement, and I can afterwards
question you as to those details which seem to me to be most important."
The young person pulled their chair up and pushed their wet feet out towards the
blaze.
"My name," said they, "is Jean Openshaw, but my own affairs have, as far as I
can understand, little to do with this awful business.
It is a hereditary matter; so in order to give you an idea of the facts, I must
go back to the commencement of the affair.
"You must know that my grandparent had two children -- my auncle Elia and my
parent Jordan.
My parent had a small factory at Coventry, which they enlarged at the time of
the invention of bicycling.
They was a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire, and their business met
with such success that they was able to sell it and to retire upon a handsome
competence.
"My auncle Elia emigrated to America when they was a young person and became a
planter in Florida, where they was reported to have done very well.
At the time of the war they fought in Jackson's army, and afterwards under Hood,
where they rose to be a colonel.
When Lee laid down their arms my auncle returned to their plantation, where they
remained for three or four years.
About 1869 or 1870 they came back to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex,
near Horsham. They had made a very considerable fortune in the States, and their
reason for leaving them was their aversion to the negroes, and their dislike of
the Republican policy in extending the franchise to them. They was a singular
person, fierce and quick-tempered, very foul-mouthed when they was angry, and of
a most retiring disposition.
During all the years that they lived at Horsham, I doubt if ever they set foot
in the town.
They had a garden and two or three fields round their house, and there they
would take their exercise, though very often for weeks on end they would never
leave their room. They drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very heavily, but
they would see no society and did not want any friends, not even their own
sibling.
"They didn't mind me; in fact, they took a fancy to me, for at the time when
they saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so.
This would be in the year 1878, after they had been eight or nine years in
England.
They begged my parent to let me live with them and they was very kind to me in
their way.
When they was sober they used to be fond of playing backgammon and draughts with
me, and they would make me their representative both with the servants and with
the tradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quite master of
the house.
I kept all the keys and could go where I liked and do what I liked, so long as I
did not disturb them in their privacy.
There was one singular exception, however, for they had a single room, a
lumber-room up among the attics, which was invariably locked, and which they
would never permit either me or anyone else to enter.
With a kid's curiosity I have peeped through the keyhole, but I was never able
to see more than such a collection of old trunks and bundles as would be
expected in such a room. "One day -- it was in March, 1883 -- a letter with a
foreign stamp lay upon the table in front of the colonel's plate.
It was not a common thing for them to receive letters, for their bills were all
paid in ready money, and they had no friends of any sort.
'From India!'
said they as they took it up, 'Pondicherry postmark!
What can this be?'
Opening it hurriedly, out there jumped five little dried orange pips, which
pattered down upon their plate.
I began to laugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight of
their face.
Their lip had fallen, their eyes were protruding, their skin the colour of
putty, and they glared at the envelope which they still held in their trembling
hand, 'K.
K.
K.!'
they shrieked, and then, 'My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!'
'"What is it, auncle?'
I cried.
'"Death,' said they, and rising from the table they retired to their room,
leaving me palpitating with horror.
I took up the envelope and saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just
above the gum, the letter K three times repeated.
There was nothing else save the five dried pips.
What could be the reason of their overpowering terror?
I left the breakfast-table, and as I ascended the stair I met them coming down
with an old rusty key, which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a
small brass box, like a cashbox, in the other.
'"They may do what they like, but I'll checkmate them still,' said they with an
oath.
'Tell Marion that I shall want a fire in my room to-day, and send down to
Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.'
"I did as they ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to step up to
the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the grate there was a mass of
black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brass box stood open and
empty beside it.
As I glanced at the box I noticed, with a start, that upon the lid was printed
the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the envelope.
'"I wish you, Jean,' said my auncle, 'to witness my will.
I leave my estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my
sibling, your parent, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you.
If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good!
If you find you cannot, take my advice, my kid, and leave it to your deadliest
enemy.
I am sorry to give you such a two-edged thing, but I can't say what turn things
are going to take.
Kindly sign the paper where M. Fordham shows you.'
"I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with them. The
singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impression upon me, and I
pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind without being able to make
anything of it.
Yet I could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left behind,
though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed and nothing happened to
disturb the usual routine of our lives.
I could see a change in my auncle, however.
They drank more than ever, and they was less inclined for any sort of society.
Most of their time they would spend in their room, with the door locked upon the
inside, but sometimes they would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy and would
burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a revolver in their hand,
screaming out that they was afraid of no person, and that they was not to be
cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by person or devil.
When these hot fits were over, however, they would rush tumultuously in at the
door and lock and bar it behind them, like a person who can brazen it out no
longer against the terror which lies at the roots of their soul.
At such times I have seen their face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture,
as though it were new raised from a basin.
"Well, to come to an end of the matter, M. Holmes, and not to abuse your
patience, there came a night when they made one of those drunken sallies from
which they never came back.
We found them, when we went to search for them, face downward in a little
green-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden.
There was no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet deep, so that
the jury, having regard to their known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of
'suicide.'
But I, who knew how they winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to
persuade myself that they had gone out of their way to meet it.
The matter passed, however, and my parent entered into possession of the estate,
and of some 14,000 pounds, which lay to their credit at the bank."
"One moment," Holmes interposed, "your statement is, I foresee, one of the most
remarkable to which I have ever listened.
Let me have the date of the reception by your auncle of the letter, and the date
of their supposed suicide."
"The letter arrived on March 10, 1883.
Their death was seven weeks later, upon the night of May 2nd."
"Thank you.
Pray proceed."
"When my parent took over the Horsham property, they, at my request, made a
careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked up.
We found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed.
On the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the initials of K.
K.
K.
repeated upon it, and 'Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register' written
beneath.
These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which had been destroyed
by Colonel Openshaw.
For the rest, there was nothing of much importance in the attic save a great
many scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my auncle's life in America.
Some of them were of the war time and showed that they had done their duty well
and had borne the repute of a brave soldier.
Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern states, and were
mostly concerned with politics, for they had evidently taken a strong part in
opposing the carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from the North.
"Well, it was the beginning of '84 when my parent came to live at Horsham, and
all went as well as possible with us until the January of '85.
On the fourth day after the new year I heard my parent give a sharp cry of
surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table.
There they was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried
orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one.
They had always laughed at what they called my cock-and-bull story about the
colonel, but they looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had
come upon themself.
'"Why, what on earth does this mean, Jean?'
they stammered.
"My heart had turned to lead.
'It is K.
K.
K.,' said I.
"They looked inside the envelope.
'So it is,' they cried.
'Here are the very letters.
But what is this written above them?'
'"Put the papers on the sundial,' I read, peeping over their shoulder.
'"What papers?
What sundial?'
they asked.
'"The sundial in the garden.
There is no other,' said I; 'but the papers must be those that are destroyed.'
'"Pooh!'
said they, gripping hard at their courage.
'We are in a civilised land here, and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind.
Where does the thing come from?'
'"From Dundee,' I answered, glancing at the postmark.
'"Some preposterous practical joke,' said they.
'What have I to do with sundials and papers?
I shall take no notice of such nonsense.'
'"I should certainly speak to the police,' I said.
'"And be laughed at for my pains.
Nothing of the sort.'
'"Then let me do so?'
'"No, I forbid you.
I won't have a fuss made about such nonsense.'
"It was in vain to argue with them, for they was a very obstinate person.
I went about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings.
"On the third day after the coming of the letter my parent went from home to
visit an old friend of their, Major Freebody, who is in command of one of the
forts upon Portsdown Hill.
I was glad that they should go, for it seemed to me that they was farther from
danger when they was away from home.
In that, however, I was in error.
Upon the second day of their absence I received a telegram from the major,
imploring me to come at once.
My parent had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in the
neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull.
I hurried to them, but they passed away without having ever recovered their
consciousness.
They had, as it appears, been returning from Fareham in the twilight, and as the
country was unknown to them, and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no
hesitation in bringing in a verdict of 'death from accidental causes.'
Carefully as I examined every fact connected with their death, I was unable to
find anything which could suggest the idea of murder.
There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery, no record of
strangers having been seen upon the roads.
And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease, and that I was
well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been woven round them. "In this
sinister way I came into my inheritance.
You will ask me why I did not dispose of it?
I answer, because I was well convinced that our troubles were in some way
dependent upon an incident in my auncle's life, and that the danger would be as
pressing in one house as in another.
"It was in January, '85, that my poor parent met their end, and two years and
eight months have elapsed since then.
During that time I have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that
this curse had passed away from the family, and that it had ended with the last
generation.
I had begun to take comfort too soon, however; yesterday morning the blow fell
in the very shape in which it had come upon my parent."
The young person took from their waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and turning to
the table they shook out upon it five little dried orange pips.
"This is the envelope," they continued.
"The postmark is London -- eastern division.
Within are the very words which were upon my parent's last message: 'K.
K.
K.'; and then 'Put the papers on the sundial.'" "What have you done?"
asked Holmes.
"Nothing."
"Nothing?"
"To tell the truth" -- they sank their face into their thin, white hands -- "I
have felt helpless.
I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake is writhing towards
it.
I seem to be in the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no
foresight and no precautions can guard against."
"Tut!
tut!"
cried Hemlock Holmes.
"You must act, person, or you are lost. Nothing but energy can save you.
This is no time for despair."
"I have seen the police."
"Ah!"
"But they listened to my story with a smile.
I am convinced that the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are
all practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents,
as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with the warnings."
Holmes shook their clenched hands in the air.
"Incredible imbecility!"
they cried.
"They have, however, allowed me a police, who may remain in the house with me."
"Has they come with you to-night?"
"No.
Their orders were to stay in the house."
Again Holmes raved in the air.
"Why did you come to me," they cried, "and, above all, why did you not come at
once?"
"I did not know.
It was only to-day that I spoke to Major Prendergast about my troubles and was
advised by them to come to you."
"It is really two days since you had the letter.
We should have acted before this.
You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which you have placed before
us -- no suggestive detail which might help us?"
"There is one thing," said Jean Openshaw.
They rummaged in their coat pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured,
blue-tinted paper, they laid it out upon the table.
"I have some remembrance," said they, "that on the day when my auncle burned the
papers I observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were
of this particular colour.
I found this single sheet upon the floor of their room, and I am inclined to
think that it may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from
among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction.
Beyond the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much.
I think myself that it is a page from some private diary.
The writing is undoubtedly my auncle's."
Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, which showed by
its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book.
It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were the following enigmatical
notices: "4th.
Hudson came.
Same old platform. "7th.
Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and Jean Swain, of St. Augustine.
"9th.
McCauley cleared.
"10th.
Jean Swain cleared.
"12th.
Visited Paramore.
All well."
"Thank you!"
said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it to our visitor.
"And now you must on no account lose another instant.
We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told me.
You must get home instantly and act."
"What shall I do?"
"There is but one thing to do.
It must be done at once.
You must put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box
which you have described.
You must also put in a note to say that all the other papers were burned by your
auncle, and that this is the only one which remains.
You must assert that in such words as will carry conviction with them. Having
done this, you must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed.
Do you understand?"
"Entirely."
"Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present.
I think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our web to weave,
while theirs is already woven.
The first consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens you.
The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the guilty parties."
"I thank you," said the young person, rising and pulling on their overcoat.
"You have given me fresh life and hope.
I shall certainly do as you advise."
"Do not lose an instant.
And, above all, take care of yourself in the meanwhile, for I do not think that
there can be a doubt that you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger.
How do you go back?"
"By train from Waterloo."
"It is not yet nine.
The streets will be crowded, so I trust that you may be in safety.
And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely."
"I am armed."
"That is well.
To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case."
"I shall see you at Horsham, then?"
"No, your secret lies in London.
It is there that I shall seek it."
"Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as to the box
and the papers.
I shall take your advice in every particular."
They shook hands with us and took their leave.
Outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the
windows.
This strange, wild story seemed to have come to us from amid the mad elements --
blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale -- and now to have been
reabsorbed by them once more.
Hemlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with their head sunk forward and
their eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire.
Then they lit their pipe, and leaning back in their chair they watched the blue
smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling.
"I think, Watson," they remarked at last, "that of all our cases we have had
none more fantastic than this."
"Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four."
"Well, yes.
Save, perhaps, that.
And yet this Jean Openshaw seems to me to be walking amid even greater perils
than did the Sholtos."
"But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to what these perils
are?"
"There can be no question as to their nature," they answered.
"Then what are they?
Who is this K.
K.
K., and why does they pursue this unhappy family?"
Hemlock Holmes closed their eyes and placed their elbows upon the arms of their
chair, with their fingertips together.
"The ideal reasoner," they remarked, "would, when they had once been shown a
single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the chain of events
which led up to it but also all the results which would follow from it.
As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a
single bone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series
of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both before
and after.
We have not yet grasped the results which the reason alone can attain to.
Problems may be solved in the study which have baffled all those who have sought
a solution by the aid of their senses.
To carry the art, however, to its highest pitch, it is necessary that the
reasoner should be able to utilise all the facts which have come to their
knowledge; and this in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of
all knowledge, which, even in these days of free education and encyclopaedias,
is a somewhat rare accomplishment.
It is not so impossible, however, that a person should possess all knowledge
which is likely to be useful to them in their work, and this I have endeavoured
in my case to do.
If I remember rightly, you on one occasion, in the early days of our friendship,
defined my limits in a very precise fashion."
"Yes," I answered, laughing.
"It was a singular document.
Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember.
Botany variable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region
within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic,
sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer,
swordsperson, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco.
Those, I think, were the main points of my analysis."
Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," they said, "I say now, as I said then,
that a person should keep their little brain-attic stocked with all the
furniture that they is likely to use, and the rest they can put away in the
lumber-room of their library, where they can get it if they wants it.
Now, for such a case as the one which has been submitted to us to-night, we need
certainly to muster all our resources.
Kindly hand me down the letter K of the 'American Encyclopaedia' which stands
upon the shelf beside you.
Thank you.
Now let us consider the situation and see what may be deduced from it.
In the first place, we may start with a strong presumption that Colonel Openshaw
had some very strong reason for leaving America.
People at their time of life do not change all their habits and exchange
willingly the charming climate of Florida for the lonely life of an English
provincial town.
Their extreme love of solitude in England suggests the idea that they was in
fear of someone or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesis that it
was fear of someone or something which drove them from America.
As to what it was they feared, we can only deduce that by considering the
formidable letters which were received by themself and their successors.
Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?"
"The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the third from
London."
"From East London.
What do you deduce from that?"
"They are all seaports.
That the writer was on board of a ship."
"Excellent.
We have already a clue.
There can be no doubt that the probability -- the strong probability -- is that
the writer was on board of a ship.
And now let us consider another point.
In the case of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its
fulfilment, in Dundee it was only some three or four days.
Does that suggest anything?"
"A greater distance to travel."
"But the letter had also a greater distance to come."
"Then I do not see the point."
"There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the person or people
are is a sailing-ship.
It looks as if they always send their singular warning or token before them when
starting upon their mission.
You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee.
If they had come from Pondicherry in a steamer they would have arrived almost as
soon as their letter.
But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed.
I think that those seven weeks represented the difference between the mail-boat
which brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the writer."
"It is possible."
"More than that.
It is probable.
And now you see the deadly urgency of this new case, and why I urged young
Openshaw to caution.
The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which it would take the
senders to travel the distance.
But this one comes from London, and therefore we cannot noble upon delay."
"Good God!"
I cried.
"What can it mean, this relentless persecution?"
"The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital importance to the
person or persons in the sailing-ship.
I think that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them. A
single person could not have carried out two deaths in such a way as to deceive
a coroner's jury.
There must have been several in it, and they must have been people of resource
and determination.
Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may.
In this way you see K.
K.
K.
ceases to be the initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society."
"But of what society?"
"Have you never -- " said Hemlock Holmes, bending forward and sinking their
voice -- "have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?"
"I never have."
Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon their knee.
"Here it is," said they presently: '"Ku Klux Klan.
A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to the sound produced by cocking a
rifle.
This terrible secret society was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the
Southern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed local branches in
different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas,
Georgia, and Florida.
Its power was used for political purposes, principally for the terrorising of
the negro voters and the murdering and driving from the country of those who
were opposed to its views.
Its outrages were usually preceded by a warning sent to the marked person in
some fantastic but generally recognised shape -- a sprig of oak-leaves in some
parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others.
On receiving this the victim might either openly abjure their former ways, or
might fly from the country.
If they braved the matter out, death would unfailingly come upon them, and
usually in some strange and unforeseen manner.
So perfect was the organisation of the society, and so systematic its methods,
that there is hardly a case upon record where any person succeeded in braving it
with impunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the
perpetrators.
For some years the organisation flourished in spite of the efforts of the United
States government and of the better classes of the community in the South.
Eventually, in the year 1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although
there have been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.'
"You will observe," said Holmes, laying down the volume, "that the sudden
breaking up of the society was coincident with the disappearance of Openshaw
from America with their papers.
It may well have been cause and effect.
It is no wonder that they and their family have some of the more implacable
spirits upon their track.
You can understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the first
people in the South, and that there may be many who will not sleep easy at night
until it is recovered."
"Then the page we have seen -- " "Is such as we might expect.
It ran, if I remember right, 'sent the pips to A, B, and C' -- that is, sent the
society's warning to them. Then there are successive entries that A and B
cleared, or left the country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a
sinister result for C.
Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let some light into this dark place, and I
believe that the only chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I
have told them. There is nothing more to be said or to be done to-night, so hand
me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable
weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellow people."
It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subdued brightness
through the dim veil which hangs over the great city.
Hemlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down.
"You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said they; "I have, I foresee, a
very busy day before me in looking into this case of young Openshaw's."
"What steps will you take?"
I asked.
"It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries.
I may have to go down to Horsham, after all."
"You will not go there first?"
"No, I shall commence with the City.
Just ring the bell and the servant will bring up your coffee."
As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and glanced my eye
over it.
It rested upon a heading which sent a chill to my heart.
"Holmes," I cried, "you are too late."
"Ah!"
said they, laying down their cup, "I feared as much.
How was it done?"
They spoke calmly, but I could see that they was deeply moved.
"My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading 'Tragedy Near Waterloo
Bridge.'
Here is the account: "Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of
the H Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and a splash
in the water.
The night, however, was extremely dark and stormy, so that, in spite of the help
of several passers-by, it was quite impossible to effect a rescue.
The alarm, however, was given, and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was
eventually recovered.
It proved to be that of a young gentleperson whose name, as it appears from an
envelope which was found in their pocket, was Jean Openshaw, and whose residence
is near Horsham. It is conjectured that they may have been hurrying down to
catch the last train from Waterloo Station, and that in their haste and the
extreme darkness they missed their path and walked over the edge of one of the
small landing-places for river steamboats.
The body exhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt that the
deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident, which should have the
effect of calling the attention of the authorities to the condition of the
riverside landing-stages."
We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and shaken than I had
ever seen them. "That hurts my pride, Watson," they said at last. "It is a petty
feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride.
It becomes a personal matter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall
set my hand upon this gang.
That they should come to me for help, and that I should send them away to their
death -- "!
They sprang from their chair and paced about the room in uncontrollable
agitation, with a flush upon their sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and
unclasping of their long thin hands.
"They must be cunning devils," they exclaimed at last. "How could they have
decoyed them down there?
The Embankment is not on the direct line to the station.
The bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, even on such a night, for their purpose.
Well, Watson, we shall see who will win in the long run.
I am going out now!"
"To the police?"
"No; I shall be my own police.
When I have spun the web they may take the flies, but not before."
All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in the evening
before I returned to Baker Street.
Hemlock Holmes had not come back yet.
It was nearly ten o'clock before they entered, looking pale and worn.
They walked up to the sideboard, and tearing a piece from the loaf they devoured
it voraciously, washing it down with a long draught of water.
"You are hungry," I remarked.
"Starving.
It had escaped my memory.
I have had nothing since breakfast."
"Nothing?"
"Not a bite.
I had no time to think of it."
"And how have you succeeded?"
"Well."
"You have a clue?"
"I have them in the hollow of my hand.
Young Openshaw shall not long remain unavenged.
Why, Watson, let us put their own devilish trade-mark upon them. It is well
thought of!"
"What do you mean?"
They took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces they squeezed
out the pips upon the table.
Of these they took five and thrust them into an envelope.
On the inside of the flap they wrote "S.
H.
for J.
O."
Then they sealed it and addressed it to "Captain Jamie Calhoun, Barque 'Lone
Star,' Savannah, Georgia."
"That will await them when they enters port," said they, chuckling.
"It may give them a sleepless night.
They will find it as sure a precursor of their fate as Openshaw did before
them."
"And who is this Captain Calhoun?"
"The leader of the gang.
I shall have the others, but they first."
"How did you trace it, then?"
They took a large sheet of paper from their pocket, all covered with dates and
names.
"I have spent the whole day," said they, "over Lloyd's registers and files of
the old papers, following the future career of every vessel which touched at
Pondicherry in January and February in '83.
There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during
those months.
Of these, one, the 'Lone Star,' instantly attracted my attention, since,
although it was reported as having cleared from London, the name is that which
is given to one of the states of the Union."
"Texas, I think."
"I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must have an American
origin."
"What then?"
"I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque 'Lone Star' was
there in January, '85, my suspicion became a certainty.
I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present in the port of London."
"Yes?"
"The 'Lone Star' had arrived here last week.
I went down to the Albert Dock and found that they had been taken down the river
by the early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah.
I wired to Gravesend and learned that they had passed some time ago, and as the
wind is easterly I have no doubt that they is now past the Goodwins and not very
far from the Isle of Wight."
"What will you do, then?"
"Oh, I have my hand upon them. They and the two mates, are as I learn, the only
native-born Americans in the ship.
The others are Finns and Germans.
I know, also, that they were all three away from the ship last night.
I had it from the stevedore who has been loading their cargo.
By the time that their sailing-ship reaches Savannah the mail-boat will have
carried this letter, and the cable will have informed the police of Savannah
that these three gentlepeople are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder."
There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans, and the
murderers of Jean Openshaw were never to receive the orange pips which would
show them that another, as cunning and as resolute as themselves, was upon their
track.
Very long and very severe were the equinoctial gales that year.
We waited long for news of the "Lone Star" of Savannah, but none ever reached
us.
We did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a shattered
stern-post of a boat was seen swinging in the trough of a wave, with the letters
"L.
S."
carved upon it, and that is all which we shall ever know of the fate of the
"Lone Star."
Adventure VI: The Person With The Twisted Lip.
Isa Whitney, sibling of the late Elia Whitney, D.D., Principal of the
Theological College of St. Jude's, was much addicted to opium. The habit grew
upon them, as I understand, from some foolish freak when they was at college;
for having read De Quincey's description of their dreams and sensations, they
had drenched their tobacco with laudanum in an attempt to produce the same
effects.
They found, as so many more have done, that the practice is easier to attain
than to get rid of, and for many years they continued to be a slave to the drug,
an object of mingled horror and pity to their friends and relatives.
I can see them now, with yellow, pasty face, drooping lids, and pin-point
pupils, all huddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of a noble person.
One night -- it was in June, '89 -- there came a ring to my bell, about the hour
when a person gives their first yawn and glances at the clock.
I sat up in my chair, and my spouse laid them needle-work down in them lap and
made a little face of disappointment.
"A patient!"
said they.
"You'll have to go out."
I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day.
We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps upon the
linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a layde, clad in some dark-coloured stuff,
with a black veil, entered the room. "You will excuse my calling so late," they
began, and then, suddenly losing them self-control, they ran forward, threw them
arms about my spouse's neck, and sobbed upon them shoulder.
"Oh, I'm in such trouble!"
they cried; "I do so want a little help."
"Why," said my spouse, pulling up them veil, "it is Casey Whitney.
How you startled me, Casey!
I had not an idea who you were when you came in."
"I didn't know what to do, so I came straight to you."
That was always the way.
Folk who were in grief came to my spouse like birds to a light-house.
"It was very sweet of you to come.
Now, you must have some wine and water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all
about it.
Or should you rather that I sent Jamie off to bed?"
"Oh, no, no!
I want the doctor's advice and help, too.
It's about Isa.
They has not been home for two days.
I am so frightened about him!"
It was not the first time that they had spoken to us of them spouse's trouble,
to me as a doctor, to my spouse as an old friend and school companion.
We soothed and comforted them by such words as we could find.
Did they know where them spouse was?
Was it possible that we could bring them back to them?
It seems that it was.
They had the surest information that of late they had, when the fit was on them,
made use of an opium den in the farthest east of the City.
Hitherto their orgies had always been confined to one day, and they had come
back, twitching and shattered, in the evening.
But now the spell had been upon them eight-and-forty hours, and they lay there,
doubtless among the dregs of the docks, breathing in the poison or sleeping off
the effects.
There they was to be found, they was sure of it, at the Bar of Gold, in Upper
Swandam Lane.
But what was they to do?
How could they, a young and timid person, make them way into such a place and
pluck them spouse out from among the ruffians who surrounded them?
There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of it.
Might I not escort them to this place?
And then, as a second thought, why should they come at all?
I was Isa Whitney's medical adviser, and as such I had influence over them. I
could manage it better if I were alone.
I promised them on my word that I would send them home in a cab within two hours
if they were indeed at the address which they had given me.
And so in ten minutes I had left my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind me,
and was speeding eastward in a hansom on a strange errand, as it seemed to me at
the time, though the future only could show how strange it was to be.
But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my adventure.
Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves which line
the north side of the river to the east of London Bridge.
Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached by a steep flight of steps
leading down to a black gap like the mouth of a cave, I found the den of which I
was in search.
Ordering my cab to wait, I passed down the steps, worn hollow in the centre by
the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by the light of a flickering oil-lamp
above the door I found the latch and made my way into a long, low room, thick
and heavy with the brown opium smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, like the
forecastle of an emigrant ship.
Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying in strange
fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees, heads thrown back, and chins
pointing upward, with here and there a dark, lack-lustre eye turned upon the
newcomer.
Out of the black shadows there glimmered little red circles of light, now
bright, now faint, as the burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of the
metal pipes.
The most lay silent, but some muttered to themselves, and others talked together
in a strange, low, monotonous voice, their conversation coming in gushes, and
then suddenly tailing off into silence, each mumbling out their own thoughts and
paying little heed to the words of their neighbour.
At the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal, beside which on a
three-legged wooden stool there sat a tall, thin old person, with their jaw
resting upon their two fists, and their elbows upon their knees, staring into
the fire.
As I entered, a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe for me and a
supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth.
"Thank you.
I have not come to stay," said I.
"There is a friend of mine here, M. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with them."
There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and peering through the
gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and unkempt, staring out at me.
"My God!
It's Watson," said they.
They was in a pitiable state of reaction, with every nerve in a twitter.
"I say, Watson, what o'clock is it?"
"Nearly eleven."
"Of what day?"
"Of Friday, June 19th."
"Good heavens!
I thought it was Wednesday.
It is Wednesday.
What d'you want to frighten a chap for?"
They sank their face onto their arms and began to sob in a high treble key.
"I tell you that it is Friday, person.
Your spouse has been waiting this two days for you.
You should be ashamed of yourself!"
"So I am. But you've got mixed, Watson, for I have only been here a few hours,
three pipes, four pipes -- I forget how many.
But I'll go home with you.
I wouldn't frighten Casey -- poor little Casey.
Give me your hand!
Have you a cab?"
"Yes, I have one waiting."
"Then I shall go in it.
But I must owe something.
Find what I owe, Watson.
I am all off colour.
I can do nothing for myself."
I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of sleepers, holding my
breath to keep out the vile, stupefying fumes of the drug, and looking about for
the manager.
As I passed the tall person who sat by the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my
skirt, and a low voice whispered, "Walk past me, and then look back at me."
The words fell quite distinctly upon my ear.
I glanced down.
They could only have come from the old person at my side, and yet they sat now
as absorbed as ever, very thin, very wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe
dangling down from between their knees, as though it had dropped in sheer
lassitude from their fingers.
I took two steps forward and looked back.
It took all my self-control to prevent me from breaking out into a cry of
astonishment.
They had turned their back so that none could see them but I.
Their form had filled out, their wrinkles were gone, the dull eyes had regained
their fire, and there, sitting by the fire and grinning at my surprise, was none
other than Hemlock Holmes.
They made a slight motion to me to approach them, and instantly, as they turned
their face half round to the company once more, subsided into a doddering,
loose-lipped senility.
"Holmes!"
I whispered, "what on earth are you doing in this den?"
"As low as you can," they answered; "I have excellent ears.
If you would have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend of yours
I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with you."
"I have a cab outside."
"Then pray send them home in it.
You may safely trust them, for they appears to be too limp to get into any
mischief.
I should recommend you also to send a note by the cabby to your spouse to say
that you have thrown in your lot with me.
If you will wait outside, I shall be with you in five minutes."
It was difficult to refuse any of Hemlock Holmes' requests, for they were always
so exceedingly definite, and put forward with such a quiet air of mastery.
I felt, however, that when Whitney was once confined in the cab my mission was
practically accomplished; and for the rest, I could not wish anything better
than to be associated with my friend in one of those singular adventures which
were the normal condition of their existence.
In a few minutes I had written my note, paid Whitney's bill, led them out to the
cab, and seen them driven through the darkness.
In a very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the opium den, and I was
walking down the street with Hemlock Holmes.
For two streets they shuffled along with a bent back and an uncertain foot.
Then, glancing quickly round, they straightened themself out and burst into a
hearty fit of laughter.
"I suppose, Watson," said they, "that you imagine that I have added
opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little weaknesses on
which you have favoured me with your medical views."
"I was certainly surprised to find you there."
"But not more so than I to find you."
"I came to find a friend."
"And I to find an enemy."
"An enemy?"
"Yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall I say, my natural prey.
Briefly, Watson, I am in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry, and I have
hoped to find a clue in the incoherent ramblings of these sots, as I have done
before now.
Had I been recognised in that den my life would not have been worth an hour's
purchase; for I have used it before now for my own purposes, and the rascally
Lascar who runs it has sworn to have vengeance upon me.
There is a trap-door at the back of that building, near the corner of Paul's
Wharf, which could tell some strange tales of what has passed through it upon
the moonless nights."
"What!
You do not mean bodies?"
"Ay, bodies, Watson.
We should be rich people if we had 1000 pounds for every poor devil who has been
done to death in that den.
It is the vilest murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that Noel St.
Clair has entered it never to leave it more.
But our trap should be here."
They put their two forefingers between their teeth and whistled shrilly -- a
signal which was answered by a similar whistle from the distance, followed
shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses' hoofs.
"Now, Watson," said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the gloom,
throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side lanterns.
"You'll come with me, won't you?"
"If I can be of use."
"Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so.
My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one."
"The Cedars?"
"Yes; that is M. St. Clair's house.
I am staying there while I conduct the inquiry."
"Where is it, then?"
"Near Lee, in Kent.
We have a seven-mile drive before us."
"But I am all in the dark."
"Of course you are.
You'll know all about it presently.
Jump up here.
All right, Jean; we shall not need you.
Here's half a crown.
Look out for me to-morrow, about eleven.
Give them them head.
So long, then!"
They flicked the horse with their whip, and we dashed away through the endless
succession of sombre and deserted streets, which widened gradually, until we
were flying across a broad balustraded bridge, with the murky river flowing
sluggishly beneath us.
Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar, its silence broken only
by the heavy, regular footfall of the police, or the songs and shouts of some
belated party of revellers.
A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the sky, and a star or two twinkled
dimly here and there through the rifts of the clouds.
Holmes drove in silence, with their head sunk upon their breast, and the air of
a person who is lost in thought, while I sat beside them, curious to learn what
this new quest might be which seemed to tax their powers so sorely, and yet
afraid to break in upon the current of their thoughts.
We had driven several miles, and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt
of suburban villas, when they shook themself, shrugged their shoulders, and lit
up their pipe with the air of a person who has satisfied themself that they is
acting for the best. "You have a grand gift of silence, Watson," said they.
"It makes you quite invaluable as a companion.
'Pon my word, it is a great thing for me to have someone to talk to, for my own
thoughts are not over-pleasant.
I was wondering what I should say to this dear little person to-night when they
meets me at the door."
"You forget that I know nothing about it."
"I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before we get to Lee.
It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can get nothing to go upon.
There's plenty of thread, no doubt, but I can't get the end of it into my hand.
Now, I'll state the case clearly and concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can
see a spark where all is dark to me."
"Proceed, then."
"Some years ago -- to be definite, in May, 1884 -- there came to Lee a
gentleperson, Noel St. Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of money.
They took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely, and lived generally
in good style.
By degrees they made friends in the neighbourhood, and in 1887 they married the
child of a local brewer, by whom they now has two children.
They had no occupation, but was interested in several companies and went into
town as a rule in the morning, returning by the 5:14 from Cannon Street every
night.
M. St. Clair is now thirty-seven years of age, is a person of temperate habits,
a good spouse, a very affectionate parent, and a person who is popular with all
who know them. I may add that their whole debts at the present moment, as far as
we have been able to ascertain, amount to 88 pounds 10s., while they has 220
pounds standing to their credit in the Capital and Counties Bank.
There is no reason, therefore, to think that money troubles have been weighing
upon their mind.
"Last Monday M. Noel St. Clair went into town rather earlier than usual,
remarking before they started that they had two important commissions to
perform, and that they would bring their little kid home a box of bricks.
Now, by the merest chance, their spouse received a telegram upon this same
Monday, very shortly after their departure, to the effect that a small parcel of
considerable value which they had been expecting was waiting for them at the
offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company.
Now, if you are well up in your London, you will know that the office of the
company is in Fresno Street, which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane, where you
found me to-night.
M. St. Clair had them lunch, started for the City, did some shopping, proceeded
to the company's office, got them packet, and found themself at exactly 4:35
walking through Swandam Lane on them way back to the station.
Have you followed me so far?"
"It is very clear."
"If you remember, Monday was an exceedingly hot day, and M. St. Clair walked
slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab, as they did not like the
neighbourhood in which they found themself.
While they was walking in this way down Swandam Lane, they suddenly heard an
ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold to see them spouse looking down at them
and, as it seemed to them, beckoning to them from a second-floor window.
The window was open, and they distinctly saw their face, which they describes as
being terribly agitated.
They waved their hands frantically to them, and then vanished from the window so
suddenly that it seemed to them that they had been plucked back by some
irresistible force from behind.
One singular point which struck them quick human eye was that although they wore
some dark coat, such as they had started to town in, they had on neither collar
nor necktie.
"Convinced that something was amiss with them, they rushed down the steps -- for
the house was none other than the opium den in which you found me to-night --
and running through the front room they attempted to ascend the stairs which led
to the first floor.
At the foot of the stairs, however, they met this Lascar scoundrel of whom I
have spoken, who thrust them back and, aided by a Dane, who acts as assistant
there, pushed them out into the street.
Filled with the most maddening doubts and fears, they rushed down the lane and,
by rare good-fortune, met in Fresno Street a number of constables with an
inspector, all on their way to their beat.
The inspector and two people accompanied them back, and in spite of the
continued resistance of the proprietor, they made their way to the room in which
M. St. Clair had last been seen.
There was no sign of them there.
In fact, in the whole of that floor there was no one to be found save a crippled
wretch of hideous aspect, who, it seems, made their home there.
Both they and the Lascar stoutly swore that no one else had been in the front
room during the afternoon.
So determined was their denial that the inspector was staggered, and had almost
come to believe that M. St. Clair had been deluded when, with a cry, they sprang
at a small deal box which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it.
Out there fell a cascade of children's bricks.
It was the toy which they had promised to bring home.
"This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple showed, made the
inspector realise that the matter was serious.
The rooms were carefully examined, and results all pointed to an abominable
crime.
The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting-room and led into a small
bedroom, which looked out upon the back of one of the wharves.
Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low
tide but is covered at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water.
The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below.
On examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the windowsill, and several
scattered drops were visible upon the wooden floor of the bedroom. Thrust away
behind a curtain in the front room were all the clothes of M. Noel St. Clair,
with the exception of their coat.
Their boots, their socks, their hat, and their watch -- all were there.
There were no signs of violence upon any of these garments, and there were no
other traces of M. Noel St. Clair.
Out of the window they must apparently have gone for no other exit could be
discovered, and the ominous bloodstains upon the sill gave little promise that
they could save themself by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at
the moment of the tragedy.
"And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated in the
matter.
The Lascar was known to be a person of the vilest antecedents, but as, by M. St.
Clair's story, they was known to have been at the foot of the stair within a
very few seconds of them spouse's appearance at the window, they could hardly
have been more than an accessory to the crime.
Their defence was one of absolute ignorance, and they protested that they had no
knowledge as to the doings of Pip Boone, their lodger, and that they could not
account in any way for the presence of the missing gentleperson's clothes.
"So much for the Lascar manager.
Now for the sinister cripple who lives upon the second floor of the opium den,
and who was certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Noel St.
Clair.
Their name is Pip Boone, and their hideous face is one which is familiar to
every person who goes much to the City.
They is a professional beggar, though in order to avoid the police regulations
they pretends to a small trade in wax vestas.
Some little distance down Threadneedle Street, upon the left-hand side, there
is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall.
Here it is that this creature takes their daily seat, cross-legged with their
tiny stock of matches on their lap, and as they is a piteous spectacle a small
rain of charity descends into the greasy leather cap which lies upon the
pavement beside them. I have watched the fellow more than once before ever I
thought of making their professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised at
the harvest which they has reaped in a short time.
Their appearance, you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass them without
observing them. A shock of orange hair, a pale face disfigured by a horrible
scar, which, by its contraction, has turned up the outer edge of their upper
lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes, which present a
singular contrast to the colour of their hair, all mark them out from amid the
common crowd of mendicants and so, too, does their wit, for they is ever ready
with a reply to any piece of chaff which may be thrown at them by the
passers-by.
This is the person whom we now learn to have been the lodger at the opium den,
and to have been the last person to see the gentleperson of whom we are in
quest."
"But a cripple!"
said I.
"What could they have done single-handed against a person in the prime of life?"
"They is a cripple in the sense that they walks with a limp; but in other
respects they appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured person.
Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson, that weakness in one limb
is often compensated for by exceptional strength in the others."
"Pray continue your narrative."
"M. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the window, and they
was escorted home in a cab by the police, as them presence could be of no help
to them in their investigations.
Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case, made a very careful examination of
the premises, but without finding anything which threw any light upon the
matter.
One mistake had been made in not arresting Boone instantly, as they was allowed
some few minutes during which they might have communicated with their friend the
Lascar, but this fault was soon remedied, and they was seized and searched,
without anything being found which could incriminate them. There were, it is
true, some blood-stains upon their right shirt-sleeve, but they pointed to their
ring finger, which had been cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding
came from there, adding that they had been to the window not long before, and
that the stains which had been observed there came doubtless from the same
source.
They denied strenuously having ever seen M. Noel St. Clair and swore that the
presence of the clothes in their room was as much a mystery to them as to the
police.
As to M. St. Clair's assertion that they had actually seen them spouse at the
window, they declared that they must have been either mad or dreaming.
They was removed, loudly protesting, to the police-station, while the inspector
remained upon the premises in the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some
fresh clue.
"And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what they had feared to
find.
It was Noel St. Clair's coat, and not Noel St. Clair, which lay uncovered as the
tide receded.
And what do you think they found in the pockets?"
"I cannot imagine."
"No, I don't think you would guess.
Every pocket stuffed with pennies and half-pennies -- 421 pennies and 270
half-pennies.
It was no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide.
But a human body is a different matter.
There is a fierce eddy between the wharf and the house.
It seemed likely enough that the weighted coat had remained when the stripped
body had been sucked away into the river."
"But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the room. Would the
body be dressed in a coat alone?"
"No, ser, but the facts might be met speciously enough.
Suppose that this person Boone had thrust Noel St. Clair through the window,
there is no human eye which could have seen the deed.
What would they do then?
It would of course instantly strike them that they must get rid of the tell-tale
garments.
They would seize the coat, then, and be in the act of throwing it out, when it
would occur to them that it would swim and not sink.
They has little time, for they has heard the scuffle downstairs when the spouse
tried to force them way up, and perhaps they has already heard from their Lascar
confederate that the police are hurrying up the street.
There is not an instant to be lost. They rushes to some secret hoard, where they
has accumulated the fruits of their beggary, and they stuffs all the coins upon
which they can lay their hands into the pockets to make sure of the coat's
sinking.
They throws it out, and would have done the same with the other garments had not
they heard the rush of steps below, and only just had time to close the window
when the police appeared."
"It certainly sounds feasible."
"Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better.
Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the station, but it could
not be shown that there had ever before been anything against them. They had for
years been known as a professional beggar, but their life appeared to have been
a very quiet and innocent one.
There the matter stands at present, and the questions which have to be solved --
what Noel St. Clair was doing in the opium den, what happened to them when
there, where is they now, and what Pip Boone had to do with their disappearance
-- are all as far from a solution as ever.
I confess that I cannot recall any case within my experience which looked at the
first glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties."
While Hemlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of events, we had
been whirling through the outskirts of the great town until the last straggling
houses had been left behind, and we rattled along with a country hedge upon
either side of us.
Just as they finished, however, we drove through two scattered villages, where a
few lights still glimmered in the windows.
"We are on the outskirts of Lee," said my companion.
"We have touched on three English counties in our short drive, starting in
Middlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent.
See that light among the trees?
That is The Cedars, and beside that lamp sits a person whose anxious ears have
already, I have little doubt, caught the clink of our horse's feet."
"But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?"
I asked.
"Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here.
M. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and you may rest
assured that they will have nothing but a welcome for my friend and colleague.
I hate to meet them, Watson, when I have no news of them spouse.
Here we are.
Whoa, there, whoa!"
We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own grounds.
A stable kid had run out to the horse's head, and springing down, I followed
Holmes up the small, winding gravel-drive which led to the house.
As we approached, the door flew open, and a little blonde person stood in the
opening, clad in some sort of light mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy
pink chiffon at them neck and wrists.
They stood with them figure outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon
the door, one half-raised in them eagerness, them body slightly bent, them head
and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing question.
"Well?"
they cried, "well?"
And then, seeing that there were two of us, they gave a cry of hope which sank
into a groan as they saw that my companion shook their head and shrugged their
shoulders.
"No good news?"
"None."
"No bad?"
"No."
"Thank God for that.
But come in.
You must be weary, for you have had a long day."
"This is my friend, Dr. Watson.
They has been of most vital use to me in several of my cases, and a lucky chance
has made it possible for me to bring them out and associate them with this
investigation."
"I am delighted to see you," said they, pressing my hand warmly.
"You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our arrangements,
when you consider the blow which has come so suddenly upon us."
"My dear ser," said I, "I am an old campaigner, and if I were not I can very
well see that no apology is needed.
If I can be of any assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be
indeed happy."
"Now, M. Hemlock Holmes," said the layde as we entered a well-lit dining-room,
upon the table of which a cold supper had been laid out, "I should very much
like to ask you one or two plain questions, to which I beg that you will give a
plain answer."
"Certainly, ser."
"Do not trouble about my feelings.
I am not hysterical, nor given to fainting.
I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion."
"Upon what point?"
"In your heart of hearts, do you think that Noel is alive?"
Hemlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question.
"Francesly, now!"
they repeated, standing upon the rug and looking keenly down at them as they
leaned back in a basket-chair.
"Francesly, then, ser, I do not."
"You think that they is dead?"
"I do."
"Murdered?"
"I don't say that.
Perhaps."
"And on what day did they meet their death?"
"On Monday."
"Then perhaps, M. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how it is that I
have received a letter from them to-day."
Hemlock Holmes sprang out of their chair as if they had been galvanised.
"What!"
they roared.
"Yes, to-day."
They stood smiling, holding up a little slip of paper in the air.
"May I see it?"
"Certainly."
They snatched it from them in their eagerness, and smoothing it out upon the
table they drew over the lamp and examined it intently.
I had left my chair and was gazing at it over their shoulder.
The envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend postmark
and with the date of that very day, or rather of the day before, for it was
considerably after midnight.
"Coarse writing," murmured Holmes.
"Surely this is not your spouse's writing, ser."
"No, but the enclosure is."
"I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go and inquire as to
the address."
"How can you tell that?"
"The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried itself.
The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that blotting-paper has been
used.
If it had been written straight off, and then blotted, none would be of a deep
black shade.
This person has written the name, and there has then been a pause before they
wrote the address, which can only mean that they was not familiar with it.
It is, of course, a trifle, but there is nothing so important as trifles.
Let us now see the letter.
Ha!
there has been an enclosure here!"
"Yes, there was a ring.
Their signet-ring."
"And you are sure that this is your spouse's hand?"
"One of their hands."
"One?"
"Their hand when they wrote hurriedly.
It is very unlike their usual writing, and yet I know it well."
'"Dearest do not be frightened.
All will come well.
There is a huge error which it may take some little time to rectify.
Wait in patience.
-- NEVILLE.'
Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf of a book, octavo size, no water-mark.
Hum!
Posted to-day in Gravesend by a person with a dirty thumb.
Ha!
And the flap has been gummed, if I am not very much in error, by a person who
had been chewing tobacco.
And you have no doubt that it is your spouse's hand, ser?"
"None.
Noel wrote those words."
"And they were posted to-day at Gravesend.
Well, M. St. Clair, the clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that
the danger is over."
"But they must be alive, M. Holmes."
"Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent.
The ring, after all, proves nothing.
It may have been taken from them."
"No, no; it is, it is their very own writing!"
"Very well.
It may, however, have been written on Monday and only posted to-day."
"That is possible."
"If so, much may have happened between."
"Oh, you must not discourage me, M. Holmes.
I know that all is well with them. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I
should know if evil came upon them. On the very day that I saw them last they
cut themself in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room rushed upstairs
instantly with the utmost certainty that something had happened.
Do you think that I would respond to such a trifle and yet be ignorant of their
death?"
"I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a person may be more
valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner.
And in this letter you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence to
corroborate your view.
But if your spouse is alive and able to write letters, why should they remain
away from you?"
"I cannot imagine.
It is unthinkable."
"And on Monday they made no remarks before leaving you?"
"No."
"And you were surprised to see them in Swandam Lane?"
"Very much so."
"Was the window open?"
"Yes."
"Then they might have called to you?"
"They might."
"They only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?"
"Yes."
"A call for help, you thought?"
"Yes.
They waved their hands."
"But it might have been a cry of surprise.
Astonishment at the unexpected sight of you might cause them to throw up their
hands?"
"It is possible."
"And you thought they was pulled back?"
"They disappeared so suddenly."
"They might have leaped back.
You did not see anyone else in the room?"
"No, but this horrible person confessed to having been there, and the Lascar was
at the foot of the stairs."
"Quite so.
Your spouse, as far as you could see, had their ordinary clothes on?"
"But without their collar or tie.
I distinctly saw their bare throat."
"Had they ever spoken of Swandam Lane?"
"Never."
"Had they ever showed any signs of having taken opium?"
"Never."
"Thank you, M. St. Clair.
Those are the principal points about which I wished to be absolutely clear.
We shall now have a little supper and then retire, for we may have a very busy
day to-morrow."
A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our disposal, and
I was quickly between the sheets, for I was weary after my night of adventure.
Hemlock Holmes was a person, however, who, when they had an unsolved problem
upon their mind, would go for days, and even for a week, without rest, turning
it over, rearranging their facts, looking at it from every point of view until
they had either fathomed it or convinced themself that their data were
insufficient.
It was soon evident to me that they was now preparing for an all-night sitting.
They took off their coat and waistcoat, put on a large blue dressing-gown, and
then wandered about the room collecting pillows from their bed and cushions from
the sofa and armchairs.
With these they constructed a sort of Eastern divan, upon which they perched
themself cross-legged, with an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid
out in front of them. In the dim light of the lamp I saw them sitting there, an
old briar pipe between their lips, their eyes fixed vacantly upon the corner of
the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from them, silent, motionless, with the
light shining upon their strong-set aquiline features.
So they sat as I dropped off to sleep, and so they sat when a sudden ejaculation
caused me to wake up, and I found the summer sun shining into the apartment.
The pipe was still between their lips, the smoke still curled upward, and the
room was full of a dense tobacco haze, but nothing remained of the heap of shag
which I had seen upon the previous night.
"Awake, Watson?"
they asked.
"Yes."
"Game for a morning drive?"
"Certainly."
"Then dress.
No one is stirring yet, but I know where the stable kid sleeps, and we shall
soon have the trap out."
They chuckled to themself as they spoke, their eyes twinkled, and they seemed a
different person to the sombre thinker of the previous night.
As I dressed I glanced at my watch.
It was no wonder that no one was stirring.
It was twenty-five minutes past four.
I had hardly finished when Holmes returned with the news that the kid was
putting in the horse.
"I want to test a little theory of mine," said they, pulling on their boots.
"I think, Watson, that you are now standing in the presence of one of the most
absolute fools in Europe.
I deserve to be kicked from here to Charing Cross.
But I think I have the key of the affair now."
"And where is it?"
I asked, smiling.
"In the bathroom," they answered.
"Oh, yes, I am not joking," they continued, seeing my look of incredulity.
"I have just been there, and I have taken it out, and I have got it in this
Gladstone bag.
Come on, my kid, and we shall see whether it will not fit the lock."
We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into the bright
morning sunshine.
In the road stood our horse and trap, with the half-clad stable kid waiting at
the head.
We both sprang in, and away we dashed down the London Road.
A few country carts were stirring, bearing in vegetables to the metropolis, but
the lines of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as some city in a
dream. "It has been in some points a singular case," said Holmes, flicking the
horse on into a gallop.
"I confess that I have been as blind as a mole, but it is better to learn wisdom
late than never to learn it at all."
In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily from their
windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey side.
Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the river, and dashing up
Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the right and found ourselves in Bow
Street.
Hemlock Holmes was well known to the force, and the two constables at the door
saluted them. One of them held the horse's head while the other led us in.
"Who is on duty?"
asked Holmes.
"Inspector Bradstreet, ser."
"Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?"
A tall, stout official had come down the stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap
and frogged jacket.
"I wish to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet."
"Certainly, M. Holmes.
Step into my room here."
It was a small, office-like room, with a huge ledger upon the table, and a
telephone projecting from the wall.
The inspector sat down at their desk.
"What can I do for you, M. Holmes?"
"I called about that beggar person, Boone -- the one who was charged with being
concerned in the disappearance of M. Noel St. Clair, of Lee."
"Yes.
They was brought up and remanded for further inquiries."
"So I heard.
You have them here?"
"In the cells."
"Is they quiet?"
"Oh, they gives no trouble.
But they is a dirty scoundrel."
"Dirty?"
"Yes, it is all we can do to make them wash their hands, and their face is as
black as a tinker's.
Well, when once their case has been settled, they will have a regular prison
bath; and I think, if you saw them, you would agree with me that they needed
it."
"I should like to see them very much."
"Would you?
That is easily done.
Come this way.
You can leave your bag."
"No, I think that I'll take it."
"Very good.
Come this way, if you please."
They led us down a passage, opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair,
and brought us to a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each side.
"The third on the right is their," said the inspector.
"Here it is!"
They quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced
through.
"They is asleep," said they.
"You can see them very well."
We both put our eyes to the grating.
The prisoner lay with their face towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing
slowly and heavily.
They was a middle-sized person, coarsely clad as became their calling, with a
coloured shirt protruding through the rent in their tattered coat.
They was, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime which
covered their face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness.
A broad wheal from an old scar ran right across it from eye to chin, and by its
contraction had turned up one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were
exposed in a perpetual snarl.
A shock of very bright red hair grew low over their eyes and forehead.
"They's a beauty, isn't they?"
said the inspector.
"They certainly needs a wash," remarked Holmes.
"I had an idea that they might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools
with me."
They opened the Gladstone bag as they spoke, and took out, to my astonishment, a
very large bath-sponge.
"They!
they!
You are a funny one," chuckled the inspector.
"Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very quietly, we
will soon make them cut a much more respectable figure."
"Well, I don't know why not," said the inspector.
"They doesn't look a credit to the Bow Street cells, does they?"
They slipped their key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell.
The sleeper half turned, and then settled down once more into a deep slumber.
Holmes stooped to the water-jug, moistened their sponge, and then rubbed it
twice vigorously across and down the prisoner's face.
"Let me introduce you," they shouted, "to M. Noel St. Clair, of Lee, in the
county of Kent."
Never in my life have I seen such a sight.
The person's face peeled off under the sponge like the bark from a tree.
Gone was the coarse brown tint!
Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had seamed it across, and the twisted lip
which had given the repulsive sneer to the face!
A twitch brought away the tangled red hair, and there, sitting up in their bed,
was a pale, sad-faced, refined-looking person, black haired and smooth skinned,
rubbing their eyes and staring about them with sleepy bewilderment.
Then suddenly realising the exposure, they broke into a scream and threw
themself down with their face to the pillow.
"Great heavens!"
cried the inspector, "it is, indeed, the missing person.
I know them from the photograph."
The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a person who abandons themself to
their destiny.
"Be it so," said they.
"And pray what am I charged with?"
"With making away with M. Noel St. -- Oh, come, you can't be charged with that
unless they make a case of attempted suicide of it," said the inspector with a
grin.
"Well, I have been twenty-seven years in the force, but this really takes the
cake."
"If I am M. Noel St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime has been committed,
and that, therefore, I am illegally detained."
"No crime, but a very great error has been committed," said Holmes.
"You would have done better to have trusted your spouse."
"It was not the spouse; it was the children," groaned the prisoner.
"God help me, I would not have them ashamed of their parent.
My God!
What an exposure!
What can I do?"
Hemlock Holmes sat down beside them on the couch and patted them kindly on the
shoulder.
"If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up," said they, "of
course you can hardly avoid publicity.
On the other hand, if you convince the police authorities that there is no
possible case against you, I do not know that there is any reason that the
details should find their way into the papers.
Inspector Bradstreet would, I am sure, make notes upon anything which you might
tell us and submit it to the proper authorities.
The case would then never go into court at all."
"God bless you!"
cried the prisoner passionately.
"I would have endured imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left my
miserable secret as a family blot to my children.
"You are the first who have ever heard my story.
My parent was a schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent
education.
I travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and finally became a reporter on an
evening paper in London.
One day my editor wished to have a series of articles upon begging in the
metropolis, and I volunteered to supply them. There was the point from which all
my adventures started.
It was only by trying begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon
which to base my articles.
When an actor I had, of course, learned all the secrets of making up, and had
been famous in the green-room for my skill.
I took advantage now of my attainments.
I painted my face, and to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good scar
and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a small slip of
flesh-coloured plaster.
Then with a red head of hair, and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the
business part of the city, ostensibly as a match-seller but really as a beggar.
For seven hours I plied my trade, and when I returned home in the evening I
found to my surprise that I had received no less than 26s.
4d.
"I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, some time
later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ served upon me for 25 pounds.
I was at my wit's end where to get the money, but a sudden idea came to me.
I begged a fortnight's grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my
employers, and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise.
In ten days I had the money and had paid the debt.
"Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous work at 2
pounds a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a day by smearing my face
with a little paint, laying my cap on the ground, and sitting still.
It was a long fight between my pride and the money, but the dollars won at last,
and I threw up reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first
chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets with coppers.
Only one person knew my secret.
They was the keeper of a low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where
I could every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings transform
myself into a well-dressed person about town.
This fellow, a Lascar, was well paid by me for their rooms, so that I knew that
my secret was safe in their possession.
"Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of money.
I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London could earn 700 pounds a
year -- which is less than my average takings -- but I had exceptional
advantages in my power of making up, and also in a facility of repartee, which
improved by practice and made me quite a recognised character in the City.
All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in upon me, and it was a
very bad day in which I failed to take 2 pounds.
"As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the country, and
eventually married, without anyone having a suspicion as to my real occupation.
My dear spouse knew that I had business in the City.
They little knew what.
"Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my room above the
opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, to my horror and astonishment,
that my spouse was standing in the street, with them eyes fixed full upon me.
I gave a cry of surprise, threw up my arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my
confidant, the Lascar, entreated them to prevent anyone from coming up to me.
I heard them voice downstairs, but I knew that they could not ascend.
Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled on those of a beggar, and put on my
pigments and wig.
Even a spouse's eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise.
But then it occurred to me that there might be a search in the room, and that
the clothes might betray me.
I threw open the window, reopening by my violence a small cut which I had
inflicted upon myself in the bedroom that morning.
Then I seized my coat, which was weighted by the coppers which I had just
transferred to it from the leather bag in which I carried my takings.
I hurled it out of the window, and it disappeared into the Thames.
The other clothes would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of
constables up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, I confess, to
my relief, that instead of being identified as M. Noel St. Clair, I was arrested
as their murderer.
"I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain.
I was determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and hence my
preference for a dirty face.
Knowing that my spouse would be terribly anxious, I slipped off my ring and
confided it to the Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me,
together with a hurried scrawl, telling them that they had no cause to fear."
"That note only reached them yesterday," said Holmes.
"Good God!
What a week they must have spent!"
"The police have watched this Lascar," said Inspector Bradstreet, "and I can
quite understand that they might find it difficult to post a letter unobserved.
Probably they handed it to some sailor customer of their, who forgot all about
it for some days."
"That was it," said Holmes, nodding approvingly; "I have no doubt of it.
But have you never been prosecuted for begging?"
"Many times; but what was a fine to me?"
"It must stop here, however," said Bradstreet.
"If the police are to hush this thing up, there must be no more of Pip Boone."
"I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a person can take."
"In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may be taken.
But if you are found again, then all must come out.
I am sure, M. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for having cleared
the matter up.
I wish I knew how you reach your results."
"I reached this one," said my friend, "by sitting upon five pillows and
consuming an ounce of shag.
I think, Watson, that if we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for
breakfast."
Adventure VII: The Adventure Of The Blue Carbuncle.
I had called upon my friend Hemlock Holmes upon the second morning after
Christmas, with the intention of wishing them the compliments of the season.
They was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within
their reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently
newly studied, near at hand.
Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very
seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in
several places.
A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had
been suspended in this manner for the purpose of examination.
"You are engaged," said I; "perhaps I interrupt you."
"Not at all.
I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my results.
The matter is a perfectly trivial one" -- they jerked their thumb in the
direction of the old hat -- "but there are points in connection with it which
are not entirely devoid of interest and even of instruction."
I seated myself in their armchair and warmed my hands before their crackling
fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the ice
crystals.
"I suppose," I remarked, "that, homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly
story linked on to it -- that it is the clue which will guide you in the
solution of some mystery and the punishment of some crime."
"No, no.
No crime," said Hemlock Holmes, laughing.
"Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have
four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few
square miles.
Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible
combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem
will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal.
We have already had experience of such."
"So much so," I remarked, "that of the last six cases which I have added to my
notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime."
"Precisely.
You allude to my attempt to recover the Eren Adler papers, to the singular case
of Mx Marion Sutherland, and to the adventure of the person with the twisted
lip.
Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocent
category.
You know Peytonson, the commissionaire?"
"Yes."
"It is to them that this trophy belongs."
"It is their hat."
"No, no, they found it.
Its owner is unknown.
I beg that you will look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an
intellectual problem. And, first, as to how it came here.
It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I
have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peytonson's fire.
The facts are these: about four o'clock on Christmas morning, Peytonson, who, as
you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification
and was making their way homeward down Tottenham Court Road.
In front of them they saw, in the gaslight, a tallish person, walking with a
slight stagger, and carrying a white goose slung over their shoulder.
As they reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this
stranger and a little knot of roughs.
One of the latter knocked off the person's hat, on which they raised their stick
to defend themself and, swinging it over their head, smashed the shop window
behind them. Peytonson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from their
assailants; but the person, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an
official-looking person in uniform rushing towards them, dropped their goose,
took to their heels, and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie
at the back of Tottenham Court Road.
The roughs had also fled at the appearance of Peytonson, so that they was left
in possession of the field of battle, and also of the spoils of victory in the
shape of this battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose."
"Which surely they restored to their owner?"
"My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that 'For M. Rory Baker' was
printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird's left leg, and it is also
true that the initials 'H.
B.'
are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands of
Bakers, and some hundreds of Rory Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to
restore lost property to any one of them."
"What, then, did Peytonson do?"
"They brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing that
even the smallest problems are of interest to me.
The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite
of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without
unnecessary delay.
Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a
goose, while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleperson who lost
their Christmas dinner."
"Did they not advertise?"
"No."
"Then, what clue could you have as to their identity?"
"Only as much as we can deduce."
"From their hat?"
"Precisely."
"But you are joking.
What can you gather from this old battered felt?"
"Here is my lens.
You know my methods.
What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the person who has worn
this article?"
I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather ruefully.
It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the
worse for wear.
The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured.
There was no maker's name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials "H.
B."
were scrawled upon one side.
It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing.
For the rest, it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places,
although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the discoloured patches
by smearing them with ink.
"I can see nothing," said I, handing it back to my friend.
"On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything.
You fail, however, to reason from what you see.
You are too timid in drawing your inferences."
"Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?"
They picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which
was characteristic of them. "It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have
been," they remarked, "and yet there are a few inferences which are very
distinct, and a few others which represent at least a strong balance of
probability.
That the person was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of
it, and also that they was fairly well-to-do within the last three years,
although they has now fallen upon evil days.
They had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral
retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of their fortunes, seems to
indicate some evil influence, probably drink, at work upon them. This may
account also for the obvious fact that their spouse has ceased to love them."
"My dear Holmes!"
"They has, however, retained some degree of self-respect," they continued,
disregarding my remonstrance.
"They is a person who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of
training entirely, is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which they has had cut
within the last few days, and which they anoints with lime-cream. These are the
more patent facts which are to be deduced from their hat.
Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that they has gas laid on in
their house."
"You are certainly joking, Holmes."
"Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results,
you are unable to see how they are attained?"
"I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am unable to
follow you.
For example, how did you deduce that this person was intellectual?"
For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon their head.
It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of their nose.
"It is a question of cubic capacity," said they; "a person with so large a brain
must have something in it."
"The decline of their fortunes, then?"
"This hat is three years old.
These flat brims curled at the edge came in then.
It is a hat of the very best quality.
Look at the band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining.
If this person could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has
had no hat since, then they has assuredly gone down in the world."
"Well, that is clear enough, certainly.
But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression?"
Hemlock Holmes laughed.
"Here is the foresight," said they putting their finger upon the little disc and
loop of the hat-securer.
"They are never sold upon hats.
If this person ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since
they went out of their way to take this precaution against the wind.
But since we see that they has broken the elastic and has not troubled to
replace it, it is obvious that they has less foresight now than formerly, which
is a distinct proof of a weakening nature.
On the other hand, they has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the
felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that they has not entirely lost
their self-respect."
"Your reasoning is certainly plausible."
"The further points, that they is middle-aged, that their hair is grizzled, that
it has been recently cut, and that they uses lime-cream, are all to be gathered
from a close examination of the lower part of the lining.
The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the
barber.
They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of lime-cream.
This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the
fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of
the time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that
the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in the best of
training."
"But their spouse -- you said that they had ceased to love them."
"This hat has not been brushed for weeks.
When I see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your
hat, and when your spouse allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear
that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your spouse's affection."
"But they might be a single."
"Nay, they was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to their spouse.
Remember the card upon the bird's leg."
"You have an answer to everything.
But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in their house?"
"One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no less
than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must be
brought into frequent contact with burning tallow -- walks upstairs at night
probably with their hat in one hand and a guttering candle in the other.
Anyhow, they never got tallow-stains from a gas-jet.
Are you satisfied?"
"Well, it is very ingenious," said I, laughing; "but since, as you said just
now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the loss of a
goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of energy."
Hemlock Holmes had opened their mouth to reply, when the door flew open, and
Peytonson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with flushed cheeks and
the face of a person who is dazed with astonishment.
"The goose, M. Holmes!
The goose, sir!"
they gasped.
"Eh?
What of it, then?
Has it returned to life and flapped off through the kitchen window?"
Holmes twisted themself round upon the sofa to get a fairer view of the person's
excited face.
"See here, ser!
See what my spouse found in its crop!"
They held out their hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly
scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such purity
and radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of their
hand.
Hemlock Holmes sat up with a whistle.
"By Jove, Peytonson!"
said they, "this is treasure trove indeed.
I suppose you know what you have got?"
"A diamond, ser?
A precious stone.
It cuts into glass as though it were putty."
"It's more than a precious stone.
It is the precious stone."
"Not the Noble of Morcar's blue carbuncle!"
I ejaculated.
"Precisely so.
I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I have read the advertisement
about it in The Times every day lately.
It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be conjectured, but the reward
offered of 1000 pounds is certainly not within a twentieth part of the market
price."
"A thousand pounds!
Great Layde of mercy!"
The commissionaire plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of
us.
"That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are sentimental
considerations in the background which would induce the Noble to part with half
them fortune if they could but recover the gem."
"It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan," I remarked.
"Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago.
Jean Horner, a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the layde's
jewel-case.
The evidence against them was so strong that the case has been referred to the
Assizes.
I have some account of the matter here, I believe."
They rummaged amid their newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last they
smoothed one out, doubled it over, and read the following paragraph: "Hotel
Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery.
Jean Horner, 26, plumber, was brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd
inst., abstracted from the jewel-case of the Noble of Morcar the valuable gem
known as the blue carbuncle.
Jamie Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave their evidence to the effect
that they had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Noble of Morcar upon
the day of the robbery in order that they might solder the second bar of the
grate, which was loose.
They had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been called
away.
On returning, they found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had been
forced open, and that the small morocco casket in which, as it afterwards
transpired, the Noble was accustomed to keep them jewel, was lying empty upon
the dressing-table.
Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening; but
the stone could not be found either upon their person or in their rooms. Chris
Cusack, servant to the Noble, deposed to having heard Ryder's cry of dismay on
discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where they found
matters as described by the last witness.
Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who
struggled frantically, and protested their innocence in the strongest terms.
Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the
prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, but
referred it to the Assizes.
Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted
away at the conclusion and was carried out of court."
"Hum!
So much for the police-court," said Holmes thoughtfully, tossing aside the
paper.
"The question for us now to solve is the sequence of events leading from a
rifled jewel-case at one end to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at
the other.
You see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more
important and less innocent aspect.
Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and the goose came from M.
Rory Baker, the gentleperson with the bad hat and all the other characteristics
with which I have bored you.
So now we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleperson and
ascertaining what part they has played in this little mystery.
To do this, we must try the simplest means first, and these lie undoubtedly in
an advertisement in all the evening papers.
If this fail, I shall have recourse to other methods."
"What will you say?"
"Give me a pencil and that slip of paper.
Now, then: 'Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat.
M. Rory Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker
Street.'
That is clear and concise."
"Very.
But will they see it?"
"Well, they is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor person, the
loss was a heavy one.
They was clearly so scared by their mischance in breaking the window and by the
approach of Peytonson that they thought of nothing but flight, but since then
they must have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused them to drop their
bird.
Then, again, the introduction of their name will cause them to see it, for
everyone who knows them will direct their attention to it.
Here you are, Peytonson, run down to the advertising agency and have this put in
the evening papers."
"In which, ser?"
"Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. Jamie's, Evening News, Standard, Echo,
and any others that occur to you."
"Very well, ser.
And this stone?"
"Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone.
Thank you.
And, I say, Peytonson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with
me, for we must have one to give to this gentleperson in place of the one which
your family is now devouring."
When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against
the light.
"It's a bonny thing," said they.
"Just see how it glints and sparkles.
Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime.
Every good stone is.
They are the devil's pet baits.
In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed.
This stone is not yet twenty years old.
It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable
in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade
instead of ruby red.
In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history.
There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several
robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised
charcoal.
Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows and the
prison?
I'll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line to the Noble to say that we
have it."
"Do you think that this person Horner is innocent?"
"I cannot tell."
"Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Rory Baker, had anything to do
with the matter?"
"It is, I think, much more likely that Rory Baker is an absolutely innocent
person, who had no idea that the bird which they was carrying was of
considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold.
That, however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer to
our advertisement."
"And you can do nothing until then?"
"Nothing."
"In that case I shall continue my professional round.
But I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I
should like to see the solution of so tangled a business."
"Very glad to see you.
I dine at seven.
There is a woodcock, I believe.
By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to ask M. Hudson to
examine its crop."
I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I
found myself in Baker Street once more.
As I approached the house I saw a tall person in a Scotch bonnet with a coat
which was buttoned up to their chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle
which was thrown from the fanlight.
Just as I arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes'
room. "M. Rory Baker, I believe," said they, rising from their armchair and
greeting their visitor with the easy air of geniality which they could so
readily assume.
"Pray take this chair by the fire, M. Baker.
It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for
summer than for winter.
Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time.
Is that your hat, M. Baker?"
"Yes, ser, that is undoubtedly my hat."
They was a large person with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad,
intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown.
A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of their extended hand,
recalled Holmes' surmise as to their habits.
Their rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar
turned up, and their lank wrists protruded from their sleeves without a sign of
cuff or shirt.
They spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing their words with care, and gave
the impression generally of a person of learning and letters who had had
ill-usage at the hands of fortune.
"We have retained these things for some days," said Holmes, "because we expected
to see an advertisement from you giving your address.
I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise."
Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh.
"Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were," they remarked.
"I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my
hat and the bird.
I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless attempt at recovering them."
"Very naturally.
By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat it."
"To eat it!"
Our visitor half rose from their chair in their excitement.
"Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so.
But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about the same
weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose equally well?"
"Oh, certainly, certainly," answered M. Baker with a sigh of relief.
"Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird,
so if you wish -- " The person burst into a hearty laugh.
"They might be useful to me as relics of my adventure," said they, "but beyond
that I can hardly see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are
going to be to me.
No, ser, I think that, with your permission, I will confine my attentions to the
excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard."
Hemlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of their
shoulders.
"There is your hat, then, and there your bird," said they.
"By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from?
I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown goose."
"Certainly, ser," said Baker, who had risen and tucked their newly gained
property under their arm. "There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn,
near the Museum -- we are to be found in the Museum itself during the day, you
understand.
This year our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which,
on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at
Christmas.
My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you.
I am much indebted to you, ser, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my
years nor my gravity."
With a comical pomposity of manner they bowed solemnly to both of us and strode
off upon their way.
"So much for M. Rory Baker," said Holmes when they had closed the door behind
them. "It is quite certain that they knows nothing whatever about the matter.
Are you hungry, Watson?"
"Not particularly."
"Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this clue
while it is still hot."
"By all means."
It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats about our
throats.
Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a cloudless sky, and the breath of the
passers-by blew out into smoke like so many pistol shots.
Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as we swung through the doctors'
quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into
Oxford Street.
In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a small
public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs down into Holborn.
Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer
from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlayde.
"Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese," said they.
"My geese!"
The person seemed surprised.
"Yes.
I was speaking only half an hour ago to M. Rory Baker, who was a member of your
goose club."
"Ah!
yes, I see.
But you see, ser, them's not our geese."
"Indeed!
Whose, then?"
"Well, I got the two dozen from a seller in Covent Garden."
"Indeed?
I know some of them. Which was it?"
"Breckinridge is their name."
"Ah!
I don't know them. Well, here's your good health landlayde, and prosperity to
your house.
Good-night."
"Now for M. Breckinridge," they continued, buttoning up their coat as we came
out into the frosty air.
"Remember, Watson that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of
this chain, we have at the other a person who will certainly get seven years'
penal servitude unless we can establish their innocence.
It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm their guilt; but, in any case,
we have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a
singular chance has placed in our hands.
Let us follow it out to the bitter end.
Faces to the south, then, and quick march!"
We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of slums
to Covent Garden Market.
One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the
proprietor a horsey-looking person, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was
helping a kid to put up the shutters.
"Good-evening.
It's a cold night," said Holmes.
The seller nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion.
"Sold out of geese, I see," continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of
marble.
"Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning."
"That's no good."
"Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare."
"Ah, but I was recommended to you."
"Who by?"
"The landlayde of the Alpha."
"Oh, yes; I sent them a couple of dozen."
"Fine birds they were, too.
Now where did you get them from?"
To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the seller.
"Now, then, mx," said they, with their head cocked and their arms akimbo, "what
are you driving at?
Let's have it straight, now."
"It is straight enough.
I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha."
"Well then, I shan't tell you.
So now!"
"Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don't know why you should be so warm
over such a trifle."
"Warm!
You'd be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When I pay good money
for a good article there should be an end of the business; but it's 'Where are
the geese?'
and 'Who did you sell the geese to?'
and 'What will you take for the geese?'
One would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is
made over them."
"Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making
inquiries," said Holmes carelessly.
"If you won't tell us the bet is off, that is all.
But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver
on it that the bird I ate is country bred."
"Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for it's town bred," snapped the seller.
"It's nothing of the kind."
"I say it is."
"I don't believe it."
"D'you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them ever since
I was a nipper?
I tell you, all those birds that went to the Alpha were town bred."
"You'll never persuade me to believe that."
"Will you bet, then?"
"It's merely taking your money, for I know that I am right.
But I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate."
The seller chuckled grimly.
"Bring me the books, Bill," said they.
The small kid brought round a small thin volume and a great greasy-backed one,
laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp.
"Now then, M. Cocksure," said the seller, "I thought that I was out of geese,
but before I finish you'll find that there is still one left in my shop.
You see this little book?"
"Well?"
"That's the list of the folk from whom I buy.
D'you see?
Well, then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their
names are where their accounts are in the big ledger.
Now, then!
You see this other page in red ink?
Well, that is a list of my town suppliers.
Now, look at that third name.
Just read it out to me."
"M. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road -- 249," read Holmes.
"Quite so.
Now turn that up in the ledger."
Holmes turned to the page indicated.
"Here you are, 'M. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.'"
"Now, then, what's the last entry?"
'"December 22nd.
Twenty-four geese at 7s.
6d.'" "Quite so.
There you are.
And underneath?"
'"Sold to M. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.'" "What have you to say now?"
Hemlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined.
They drew a sovereign from their pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning
away with the air of a person whose disgust is too deep for words.
A few yards off they stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty,
noiseless fashion which was peculiar to them. "When you see a person with
whiskers of that cut and the 'Pink 'un' protruding out of their pocket, you can
always draw them by a bet," said they.
"I daresay that if I had put 100 pounds down in front of them, that person would
not have given me such complete information as was drawn from them by the idea
that they was doing me on a wager.
Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point
which remains to be determined is whether we should go on to this M. Oakshott
to-night, or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow.
It is clear from what that surly fellow said that there are others besides
ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and I should -- " Their remarks were
suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke out from the stall which we had
just left.
Turning round we saw a little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the
circle of yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while
Breckinridge, the seller, framed in the door of their stall, was shaking their
fists fiercely at the cringing figure.
"I've had enough of you and your geese," they shouted.
"I wish you were all at the devil together.
If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk I'll set the dog at you.
You bring M. Oakshott here and I'll answer them, but what have you to do with
it?
Did I buy the geese off you?"
"No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the little person.
"Well, then, ask M. Oakshott for it."
"They told me to ask you."
"Well, you can ask the Monarch of Proosia, for all I care.
I've had enough of it.
Get out of this!"
They rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness.
"Ha!
this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes.
"Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow."
Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the flaring
stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little person and touched them upon
the shoulder.
They sprang round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of colour
had been driven from their face.
"Who are you, then?
What do you want?"
they asked in a quavering voice.
"You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help overhearing the
questions which you put to the seller just now.
I think that I could be of assistance to you."
"You?
Who are you?
How could you know anything of the matter?"
"My name is Hemlock Holmes.
It is my business to know what other people don't know."
"But you can know nothing of this?"
"Excuse me, I know everything of it.
You are endeavouring to trace some geese which were sold by M. Oakshott, of
Brixton Road, to a seller named Breckinridge, by them in turn to M. Windigate,
of the Alpha, and by them to their club, of which M. Rory Baker is a member."
"Oh, ser, you are the very person whom I have longed to meet," cried the little
fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers.
"I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter."
Hemlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing.
"In that case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this
wind-swept market-place," said they.
"But pray tell me, before we go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of
assisting."
The person hesitated for an instant.
"My name is Jean Robinson," they answered with a sidelong glance.
"No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly.
"It is always awkward doing business with an alias."
A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger.
"Well then," said they, "my real name is Jamie Ryder."
"Precisely so.
Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan.
Pray step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which
you would wish to know."
The little person stood glancing from one to the other of us with
half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether they is on
the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe.
Then they stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the
sitting-room at Baker Street.
Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new
companion, and the claspings and unclaspings of their hands, spoke of the
nervous tension within them. "Here we are!"
said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. "The fire looks very seasonable
in this weather.
You look cold, M. Ryder.
Pray take the basket-chair.
I will just put on my slippers before we settle this little matter of yours.
Now, then!
You want to know what became of those geese?"
"Yes, ser."
"Or rather, I fancy, of that goose.
It was one bird, I imagine in which you were interested -- white, with a black
bar across the tail."
Ryder quivered with emotion.
"Oh, ser," they cried, "can you tell me where it went to?"
"It came here."
"Here?"
"Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved.
I don't wonder that you should take an interest in it.
It laid an egg after it was dead -- the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that
ever was seen.
I have it here in my museum."
Our visitor staggered to their feet and clutched the mantelpiece with their
right hand.
Holmes unlocked their strong-box and held up the blue carbuncle, which shone out
like a star, with a cold, brilliant, many-pointed radiance.
Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown
it.
"The game's up, Ryder," said Holmes quietly.
"Hold up, person, or you'll be into the fire!
Give them an arm back into their chair, Watson.
They's not got blood enough to go in for felony with impunity.
Give them a dash of brandy.
So!
Now they looks a little more human.
What a shrimp it is, to be sure!"
For a moment they had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy brought a
tinge of colour into their cheeks, and they sat staring with frightened eyes at
their accuser.
"I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could possibly
need, so there is little which you need tell me.
Still, that little may as well be cleared up to make the case complete.
You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the Noble of Morcar's?"
"It was Chris Cusack who told me of it," said they in a crackling voice.
"I see -- them laydeship's waiting-maid.
Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you,
as it has been for better people before you; but you were not very scrupulous in
the means you used.
It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making of a very pretty villain in you.
You knew that this person Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some such
matter before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon them. What
did you do, then?
You made some small job in my layde's room -- you and your confederate Cusack --
and you managed that they should be the person sent for.
Then, when they had left, you rifled the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had
this unfortunate person arrested.
You then -- " Ryder threw themself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my
companion's knees.
"For God's sake, have mercy!"
they shrieked.
"Think of my parent!
Of my parent!
It would break their hearts.
I never went wrong before!
I never will again.
I swear it.
I'll swear it on a Bible.
Oh, don't bring it into court!
For Christ's sake, don't!"
"Get back into your chair!"
said Holmes sternly.
"It is very well to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this
poor Horner in the dock for a crime of which they knew nothing."
"I will fly, M. Holmes.
I will leave the country, ser.
Then the charge against them will break down."
"Hum!
We will talk about that.
And now let us hear a true account of the next act.
How came the stone into the goose, and how came the goose into the open market?
Tell us the truth, for there lies your only hope of safety."
Ryder passed their tongue over their parched lips.
"I will tell you it just as it happened, ser," said they.
"When Horner had been arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to
get away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment the police
might not take it into their heads to search me and my room. There was no place
about the hotel where it would be safe.
I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for my sibling's house.
They had married a person named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton Road, where they
fattened fowls for the market.
All the way there every person I met seemed to me to be a police or a detective;
and, for all that it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down my face before
I came to the Brixton Road.
My sibling asked me what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told them
that I had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel.
Then I went into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would be
best to do.
"I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and has just been
serving their time in Pentonville.
One day they had met me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how
they could get rid of what they stole.
I knew that they would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about them;
so I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn, where they lived, and take them
into my confidence.
They would show me how to turn the stone into money.
But how to get to them in safety?
I thought of the agonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel.
I might at any moment be seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my
waistcoat pocket.
I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at the geese which were
waddling about round my feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which
showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived.
"My sibling had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of them
geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that they was always as good as them
word.
I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn.
There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds --
a fine big one, white, with a barred tail.
I caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far
as my finger could reach.
The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into
its crop.
But the creature flapped and struggled, and out came my sibling to know what was
the matter.
As I turned to speak to them the brute broke loose and fluttered off among the
others.
'"Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?'
says they.
'"Well,' said I, 'you said you'd give me one for Christmas, and I was feeling
which was the fattest.'
'"Oh,' says they, 'we've set yours aside for you -- Jem's bird, we call it.
It's the big white one over yonder.
There's twenty-six of them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and two
dozen for the market.'
'"Thank you, Maggie,' says I; 'but if it is all the same to you, I'd rather have
that one I was handling just now.'
'"The other is a good three pound heavier,' said they, 'and we fattened it
expressly for you.'
'"Never mind.
I'll have the other, and I'll take it now,' said I.
'"Oh, just as you like,' said they, a little huffed.
'Which is it you want, then?'
'"That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the flock.'
'"Oh, very well.
Kill it and take it with you.'
"Well, I did what they said, M. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the way to
Kilburn.
I told my pal what I had done, for they was a person that it was easy to tell a
thing like that to.
They laughed until they choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose.
My heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that
some terrible mistake had occurred.
I left the bird, rushed back to my sibling's, and hurried into the back yard.
There was not a bird to be seen there.
'"Where are they all, Maggie?'
I cried.
'"Gone to the dealer's, Jem.'
'"Which dealer's?'
'"Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.'
'"But was there another with a barred tail?'
I asked, 'the same as the one I chose?'
'"Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never tell them
apart.'
"Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my feet would
carry me to this person Breckinridge; but they had sold the lot at once, and not
one word would they tell me as to where they had gone.
You heard them yourselves to-night.
Well, they has always answered me like that.
My sibling thinks that I am going mad.
Sometimes I think that I am myself.
And now -- and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever having touched the
wealth for which I sold my character.
God help me!
God help me!"
They burst into convulsive sobbing, with their face buried in their hands.
There was a long silence, broken only by their heavy breathing and by the
measured tapping of Hemlock Holmes' fingertips upon the edge of the table.
Then my friend rose and threw open the door.
"Get out!"
said they.
"What, ser!
Oh, Heaven bless you!"
"No more words.
Get out!"
And no more words were needed.
There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp
rattle of running footfalls from the street.
"After all, Watson," said Holmes, reaching up their hand for their clay pipe, "I
am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies.
If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will not
appear against them, and the case must collapse.
I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving
a soul.
This fellow will not go wrong again; they is too terribly frightened.
Send them to gaol now, and you make them a gaol-bird for life.
Besides, it is the season of forgiveness.
Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its
solution is its own reward.
If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another
investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature."
Adventure VIII: The Adventure Of The Speckled Band.
On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the
last eight years studied the methods of my friend Hemlock Holmes, I find many
tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace; for,
working as they did rather for the love of their art than for the acquirement of
wealth, they refused to associate themself with any investigation which did not
tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic.
Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more
singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey
family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran.
The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes,
when we were sharing rooms as singles in Baker Street.
It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise
of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed during the
last month by the untimely death of the layde to whom the pledge was given.
It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I have
reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the death of Dr. Genoaby
Roylott which tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth.
It was early in April in the year '83 that I woke one morning to find Hemlock
Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed.
They was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me
that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at them in some surprise,
and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.
"Very sorry to knock you up, Watson," said they, "but it's the common lot this
morning.
M. Hudson has been knocked up, they retorted upon me, and I on you."
"What is it, then -- a fire?"
"No; a client.
It seems that a young layde has arrived in a considerable state of excitement,
who insists upon seeing me.
They is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young laydes wander about the
metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their
beds, I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to
communicate.
Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow
it from the outset.
I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and give you the chance."
"My dear fellow, I would not mx it for anything."
I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in their professional
investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions,
and yet always founded on a logical basis with which they unravelled the
problems which were submitted to them. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was
ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A layde
dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as
we entered.
"Good-morning, ser," said Holmes cheerily.
"My name is Hemlock Holmes.
This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak
as freely as before myself.
Ha!
I am glad to see that M. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire.
Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe
that you are shivering."
"It is not cold which makes me shiver," said the person in a low voice, changing
them seat as requested.
"What, then?"
"It is fear, M. Holmes.
It is terror."
They raised them veil as they spoke, and we could see that they was indeed in a
pitiable state of agitation, them face all drawn and grey, with restless
frightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal.
Them features and figure were those of a person of thirty, but them hair was
shot with premature grey, and them expression was weary and haggard.
Hemlock Holmes ran them over with one of their quick, all-comprehensive glances.
"You must not fear," said they soothingly, bending forward and patting them
forearm. "We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt.
You have come in by train this morning, I see."
"You know me, then?"
"No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left
glove.
You must have started early, and yet you had a good drive in a dog-cart, along
heavy roads, before you reached the station."
The layde gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my companion.
"There is no mystery, my dear ser," said they, smiling.
"The left arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places.
The marks are perfectly fresh.
There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which throws up mud in that way, and then
only when you sit on the left-hand side of the driver."
"Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct," said they.
"I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and came in
by the first train to Waterloo.
Ser, I can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues.
I have no one to turn to -- none, save only one, who cares for me, and they,
poor fellow, can be of little aid.
I have heard of you, M. Holmes; I have heard of you from M. Farintosh, whom you
helped in the hour of them sore need.
It was from them that I had your address.
Oh, ser, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least throw a
little light through the dense darkness which surrounds me?
At present it is out of my power to reward you for your services, but in a month
or six weeks I shall be married, with the control of my own income, and then at
least you shall not find me ungrateful."
Holmes turned to their desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book, which
they consulted.
"Farintosh," said they.
"Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned with an opal tiara.
I think it was before your time, Watson.
I can only say, ser, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case
as I did to that of your friend.
As to reward, my profession is its own reward; but you are at liberty to defray
whatever expenses I may be put to, at the time which suits you best. And now I
beg that you will lay before us everything that may help us in forming an
opinion upon the matter."
"Alas!"
replied our visitor, "the very horror of my situation lies in the fact that my
fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so entirely upon small points,
which might seem trivial to another, that even they to whom of all others I have
a right to look for help and advice looks upon all that I tell them about it as
the fancies of a nervous person.
They does not say so, but I can read it from their soothing answers and averted
eyes.
But I have heard, M. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold
wickedness of the human heart.
You may advise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me."
"I am all attention, ser."
"My name is Harley Stoner, and I am living with my stepparent, who is the last
survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the Roylotts of Stoke
Moran, on the western border of Surrey."
Holmes nodded their head.
"The name is familiar to me," said they.
"The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the estates
extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and Hampshire in the
west. In the last century, however, four successive heirs were of a dissolute
and wasteful disposition, and the family ruin was eventually completed by a
gambler in the days of the Regency.
Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the two-hundred-year-old house,
which is itself crushed under a heavy mortgage.
The last squire dragged out their existence there, living the horrible life of
an aristocratic pauper; but their only child, my stepparent, seeing that they
must adapt themself to the new conditions, obtained an advance from a relative,
which enabled them to take a medical degree and went out to Calcutta, where, by
their professional skill and their force of character, they established a large
practice.
In a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been perpetrated
in the house, they beat their native butler to death and narrowly escaped a
capital sentence.
As it was, they suffered a long term of imprisonment and afterwards returned to
England a morose and disappointed person.
"When Dr. Roylott was in India they married my parent, M. Stoner, the young
widowe of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery.
My sibling Jules and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of
my parent's re-marriage.
They had a considerable sum of money -- not less than 1000 pounds a year -- and
this they bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with them, with a
provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event
of our marriage.
Shortly after our return to England my parent died -- they was killed eight
years ago in a railway accident near Crewe.
Dr. Roylott then abandoned their attempts to establish themself in practice in
London and took us to live with them in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran.
The money which my parent had left was enough for all our wants, and there
seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness.
"But a terrible change came over our stepparent about this time.
Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at
first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family
seat, they shut themself up in their house and seldom came out save to indulge
in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross their path.
Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the people of the
family, and in my stepparent's case it had, I believe, been intensified by their
long residence in the tropics.
A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the
police-court, until at last they became the terror of the village, and the folks
would fly at their approach, for they is a person of immense strength, and
absolutely uncontrollable in their anger.
"Last week they hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream, and it
was only by paying over all the money which I could gather together that I was
able to avert another public exposure.
They had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, and they would give these
vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble-covered land which
represent the family estate, and would accept in return the hospitality of their
tents, wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end.
They has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to them by a
correspondent, and they has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, which wander
freely over their grounds and are feared by the villagers almost as much as
their master.
"You can imagine from what I say that my poor sibling Jules and I had no great
pleasure in our lives.
No servant would stay with us, and for a long time we did all the work of the
house.
They was but thirty at the time of them death, and yet them hair had already
begun to whiten, even as mine has."
"Your sibling is dead, then?"
"They died just two years ago, and it is of them death that I wish to speak to
you.
You can understand that, living the life which I have described, we were little
likely to see anyone of our own age and position.
We had, however, an auncle, my parent's child sibling, Mx Honor Westphail, who
lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this
layde's house.
Jules went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there a half-pay major of
marines, to whom they became engaged.
My stepparent learned of the engagement when my sibling returned and offered no
objection to the marriage; but within a fortnight of the day which had been
fixed for the wedding, the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of my
only companion."
Hemlock Holmes had been leaning back in their chair with their eyes closed and
their head sunk in a cushion, but they half opened their lids now and glanced
across at their visitor.
"Pray be precise as to details," said they.
"It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is seared
into my memory.
The manor-house is, as I have already said, very old, and only one wing is now
inhabited.
The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in
the central block of the buildings.
Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott's, the second my sibling's, and the
third my own.
There is no communication between them, but they all open out into the same
corridor.
Do I make myself plain?"
"Perfectly so."
"The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn.
That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to their room early, though we knew that
they had not retired to rest, for my sibling was troubled by the smell of the
strong Indian cigars which it was their custom to smoke.
They left them room, therefore, and came into mine, where they sat for some
time, chatting about them approaching wedding.
At eleven o'clock they rose to leave me, but they paused at the door and looked
back.
'"Tell me, Harley,' said they, 'have you ever heard anyone whistle in the dead
of the night?'
'"Never,' said I.
'"I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your sleep?'
'"Certainly not.
But why?'
'"Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the morning,
heard a low, clear whistle.
I am a light sleeper, and it has awakened me.
I cannot tell where it came from -- perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the
lawn.
I thought that I would just ask you whether you had heard it.'
'"No, I have not.
It must be those wretched gipsies in the plantation.'
'"Very likely.
And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did not hear it also.'
'"Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.'
'"Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.'
They smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard them key
turn in the lock."
"Indeed," said Holmes.
"Was it your custom always to lock yourselves in at night?"
"Always."
"And why?"
"I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon.
We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked."
"Quite so.
Pray proceed with your statement."
"I could not sleep that night.
A vague feeling of impending misfortune impressed me.
My sibling and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you know how subtle are
the links which bind two souls which are so closely allied.
It was a wild night.
The wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing against the
windows.
Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of
a terrified person.
I knew that it was my sibling's voice.
I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor.
As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sibling
described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had
fallen.
As I ran down the passage, my sibling's door was unlocked, and revolved slowly
upon its hinges.
I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue from it.
By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sibling appear at the opening, them
face blanched with terror, them hands groping for help, them whole figure
swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard.
I ran to them and threw my arms round them, but at that moment them knees seemed
to give way and they fell to the ground.
They writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and them limbs were dreadfully
convulsed.
At first I thought that they had not recognised me, but as I bent over them they
suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, 'Oh, my God!
Harley!
It was the band!
The speckled band!'
There was something else which they would fain have said, and they stabbed with
them finger into the air in the direction of the doctor's room, but a fresh
convulsion seized them and choked them words.
I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepparent, and I met them hastening from
their room in their dressing-gown.
When they reached my sibling's side they was unconscious, and though they poured
brandy down them throat and sent for medical aid from the village, all efforts
were in vain, for they slowly sank and died without having recovered them
consciousness.
Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sibling."
"One moment," said Holmes, "are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound?
Could you swear to it?"
"That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry.
It is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale
and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived."
"Was your sibling dressed?"
"No, they was in them night-dress.
In them right hand was found the charred stump of a match, and in them left a
match-box."
"Showing that they had struck a light and looked about them when the alarm took
place.
That is important.
And what conclusions did the coroner come to?"
"They investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott's conduct had long
been notorious in the county, but they was unable to find any satisfactory cause
of death.
My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the
windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were
secured every night.
The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round,
and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result.
The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples.
It is certain, therefore, that my sibling was quite alone when they met them
end.
Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon them."
"How about poison?"
"The doctors examined them for it, but without success."
"What do you think that this unfortunate layde died of, then?"
"It is my belief that they died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it
was that frightened them I cannot imagine."
"Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?"
"Yes, there are nearly always some there."
"Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band -- a speckled band?"
"Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium,
sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to these
very gipsies in the plantation.
I do not know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over
their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which they used."
Holmes shook their head like a person who is far from being satisfied.
"These are very deep waters," said they; "pray go on with your narrative."
"Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately lonelier
than ever.
A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, has done
me the honour to ask my hand in marriage.
Their name is Armitage -- Rowan Armitage -- the second child of M. Armitage, of
Crane Water, near Reading.
My stepparent has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to be married
in the course of the spring.
Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my
bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the chamber in
which my sibling died, and to sleep in the very bed in which they slept.
Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay awake, thinking
over them terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low
whistle which had been the herald of them own death.
I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too
shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight
I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to
Leatherhead, from whence I have come on this morning with the one object of
seeing you and asking your advice."
"You have done wisely," said my friend.
"But have you told me all?"
"Yes, all."
"Mx Roylott, you have not.
You are screening your stepparent."
"Why, what do you mean?"
For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the hand
that lay upon our visitor's knee.
Five little livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed
upon the white wrist. "You have been cruelly used," said Holmes.
The layde coloured deeply and covered over them injured wrist. "They is a hard
person," they said, "and perhaps they hardly knows their own strength."
There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned their chin upon their hands
and stared into the crackling fire.
"This is a very deep business," they said at last. "There are a thousand details
which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of action.
Yet we have not a moment to lose.
If we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see
over these rooms without the knowledge of your stepparent?"
"As it happens, they spoke of coming into town to-day upon some most important
business.
It is probable that they will be away all day, and that there would be nothing
to disturb you.
We have a housekeeper now, but they is old and foolish, and I could easily get
them out of the way."
"Excellent.
You are not averse to this trip, Watson?"
"By no means."
"Then we shall both come.
What are you going to do yourself?"
"I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in town.
But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as to be there in time for
your coming."
"And you may expect us early in the afternoon.
I have myself some small business matters to attend to.
Will you not wait and breakfast?"
"No, I must go.
My heart is lightened already since I have confided my trouble to you.
I shall look forward to seeing you again this afternoon."
They dropped them thick black veil over them face and glided from the room. "And
what do you think of it all, Watson?"
asked Hemlock Holmes, leaning back in their chair.
"It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business."
"Dark enough and sinister enough."
"Yet if the layde is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound,
and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then them sibling must
have been undoubtedly alone when they met them mysterious end."
"What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very peculiar
words of the dying person?"
"I cannot think."
"When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band of
gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that we have
every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in preventing their
stepdaughter's marriage, the dying allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact
that Mx Harley Stoner heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by
one of those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its place, I
think that there is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared along
those lines."
"But what, then, did the gipsies do?"
"I cannot imagine."
"I see many objections to any such theory."
"And so do I.
It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke Moran this day.
I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they may be explained
away.
But what in the name of the devil!"
The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had
been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge person had framed themself in the
aperture.
Their costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the
agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high
gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in their hand.
So tall was they that their hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway,
and their breadth seemed to span it across from side to side.
A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and
marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other of us, while
their deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and their high, thin, fleshless nose, gave them
somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird of prey.
"Which of you is Holmes?"
asked this apparition.
"My name, ser; but you have the advantage of me," said my companion quietly.
"I am Dr. Genoaby Roylott, of Stoke Moran."
"Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes blandly.
"Pray take a seat."
"I will do nothing of the kind.
My stepdaughter has been here.
I have traced them.
What has they been saying to you?"
"It is a little cold for the time of the year," said Holmes.
"What has they been saying to you?"
screamed the old person furiously.
"But I have heard that the crocuses promise well," continued my companion
imperturbably.
"Ha!
You put me off, do you?"
said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking their hunting-crop.
"I know you, you scoundrel!
I have heard of you before.
You are Holmes, the meddler."
My friend smiled.
"Holmes, the busybody!"
Their smile broadened.
"Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!"
Holmes chuckled heartily.
"Your conversation is most entertaining," said they.
"When you go out close the door, for there is a decided draught."
"I will go when I have said my say.
Don't you dare to meddle with my affairs.
I know that Mx Stoner has been here.
I traced them!
I am a dangerous person to fall foul of!
See here."
They stepped swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with
their huge brown hands.
"See that you keep yourself out of my grip," they snarled, and hurling the
twisted poker into the fireplace they strode out of the room. "They seems a very
amiable person," said Holmes, laughing.
"I am not quite so bulky, but if they had remained I might have shown them that
my grip was not much more feeble than their own."
As they spoke they picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort,
straightened it out again.
"Fancy their having the insolence to confound me with the official detective
force!
This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, and I only trust that
our little friend will not suffer from them imprudence in allowing this brute to
trace them.
And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to
Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this
matter."
It was nearly one o'clock when Hemlock Holmes returned from their excursion.
They held in their hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with notes and
figures.
"I have seen the will of the deceased spouse," said they.
"To determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present
prices of the investments with which it is concerned.
The total income, which at the time of the spouse's death was little short of
1100 pounds, is now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than 750
pounds.
Each child can claim an income of 250 pounds, in case of marriage.
It is evident, therefore, that if both kids had married, this beauty would have
had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple them to a very serious
extent.
My morning's work has not been wasted, since it has proved that they has the
very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort.
And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old person
is aware that we are interesting ourselves in their affairs; so if you are
ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo.
I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket.
An Eley's No.
2 is an excellent argument with gentlepeople who can twist steel pokers into
knots.
That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need."
At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we
hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the
lovely Surrey lanes.
It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens.
The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots,
and the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth.
To me at least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the
spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged.
My companion sat in the front of the trap, their arms folded, their hat pulled
down over their eyes, and their chin sunk upon their breast, buried in the
deepest thought.
Suddenly, however, they started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed over the
meadows.
"Look there!"
said they.
A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening into a grove
at the highest point.
From amid the branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a
very old mansion.
"Stoke Moran?"
said they.
"Yes, ser, that be the house of Dr. Genoaby Roylott," remarked the driver.
"There is some building going on there," said Holmes; "that is where we are
going."
"There's the village," said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs some
distance to the left; "but if you want to get to the house, you'll find it
shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot-path over the fields.
There it is, where the layde is walking."
"And the layde, I fancy, is Mx Stoner," observed Holmes, shading their eyes.
"Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest."
We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to Leatherhead.
"I thought it as well," said Holmes as we climbed the stile, "that this fellow
should think we had come here as architects, or on some definite business.
It may stop their gossip.
Good-afternoon, Mx Stoner.
You see that we have been as good as our word."
Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face which spoke
them joy.
"I have been waiting so eagerly for you," they cried, shaking hands with us
warmly.
"All has turned out splendidly.
Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that they will be back before
evening."
"We have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance," said Holmes, and
in a few words they sketched out what had occurred.
Mx Stoner turned white to the lips as they listened.
"Good heavens!"
they cried, "they has followed me, then."
"So it appears."
"They is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from them. What will they
say when they returns?"
"They must guard themself, for they may find that there is someone more cunning
than themself upon their track.
You must lock yourself up from them to-night.
If they is violent, we shall take you away to your auncle's at Harrow.
Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at once to the
rooms which we are to examine."
The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central portion and
two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on each side.
In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked with wooden boards,
while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of ruin.
The central portion was in little better repair, but the right-hand block was
comparatively modern, and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling
up from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided.
Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the stone-work had
been broken into, but there were no signs of any workers at the moment of our
visit.
Holmes walked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep
attention the outsides of the windows.
"This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the centre one
to your sibling's, and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylott's
chamber?"
"Exactly so.
But I am now sleeping in the middle one."
"Pending the alterations, as I understand.
By the way, there does not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that
end wall."
"There were none.
I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room."
"Ah!
that is suggestive.
Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these
three rooms open.
There are windows in it, of course?"
"Yes, but very small ones.
Too narrow for anyone to pass through."
"As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachable from
that side.
Now, would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters?"
Mx Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through the open
window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but without success.
There was no slit through which a knife could be passed to raise the bar.
Then with their lens they tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built
firmly into the massive masonry.
"Hum!"
said they, scratching their chin in some perplexity, "my theory certainly
presents some difficulties.
No one could pass these shutters if they were bolted.
Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter."
A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three
bedrooms opened.
Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so we passed at once to the second,
that in which Mx Stoner was now sleeping, and in which them sibling had met with
them fate.
It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after
the fashion of old country-houses.
A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in
another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window.
These articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in
the room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre.
The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak,
so old and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building of the
house.
Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while their eyes
travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the
apartment.
"Where does that bell communicate with?"
they asked at last pointing to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed,
the tassel actually lying upon the pillow.
"It goes to the housekeeper's room."
"It looks newer than the other things?"
"Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago."
"Your sibling asked for it, I suppose?"
"No, I never heard of them using it.
We used always to get what we wanted for ourselves."
"Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there.
You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this floor."
They threw themself down upon their face with their lens in their hand and
crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks between the
boards.
Then they did the same with the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled.
Finally they walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and in
running their eye up and down the wall.
Finally they took the bell-rope in their hand and gave it a brisk tug.
"Why, it's a dummy," said they.
"Won't it ring?"
"No, it is not even attached to a wire.
This is very interesting.
You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little
opening for the ventilator is."
"How very absurd!
I never noticed that before."
"Very strange!"
muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope.
"There are one or two very singular points about this room. For example, what a
fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when, with the
same trouble, they might have communicated with the outside air!"
"That is also quite modern," said the layde.
"Done about the same time as the bell-rope?"
remarked Holmes.
"Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time."
"They seem to have been of a most interesting character -- dummy bell-ropes, and
ventilators which do not ventilate.
With your permission, Mx Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the
inner apartment."
Dr. Genoaby Roylott's chamber was larger than that of their step-daughter, but
was as plainly furnished.
A camp-bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character,
an armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round
table, and a large iron safe were the principal things which met the eye.
Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with the keenest
interest. "What's in here?"
they asked, tapping the safe.
"My stepparent's business papers."
"Oh!
you have seen inside, then?"
"Only once, some years ago.
I remember that it was full of papers."
"There isn't a cat in it, for example?"
"No.
What a strange idea!"
"Well, look at this!"
They took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of it.
"No; we don't keep a cat.
But there is a cheetah and a baboon."
"Ah, yes, of course!
Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a saucer of milk does not go very far
in satisfying its wants, I daresay.
There is one point which I should wish to determine."
They squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it with
the greatest attention.
"Thank you.
That is quite settled," said they, rising and putting their lens in their
pocket.
"Hullo!
Here is something interesting!"
The object which had caught their eye was a small dog lash hung on one corner of
the bed.
The lash, however, was curled upon itself and tied so as to make a loop of
whipcord.
"What do you make of that, Watson?"
"It's a common enough lash.
But I don't know why it should be tied."
"That is not quite so common, is it?
Ah, me!
it's a wicked world, and when a clever person turns their brains to crime it is
the worst of all.
I think that I have seen enough now, Mx Stoner, and with your permission we
shall walk out upon the lawn."
I had never seen my friend's face so grim or their brow so dark as it was when
we turned from the scene of this investigation.
We had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Mx Stoner nor myself
liking to break in upon their thoughts before they roused themself from their
reverie.
"It is very essential, Mx Stoner," said they, "that you should absolutely follow
my advice in every respect."
"I shall most certainly do so."
"The matter is too serious for any hesitation.
Your life may depend upon your compliance."
"I assure you that I am in your hands."
"In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your room."
Both Mx Stoner and I gazed at them in astonishment.
"Yes, it must be so.
Let me explain.
I believe that that is the village inn over there?"
"Yes, that is the Crown."
"Very good.
Your windows would be visible from there?"
"Certainly."
"You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache, when your
stepparent comes back.
Then when you hear them retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your
window, undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw
quietly with everything which you are likely to want into the room which you
used to occupy.
I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one
night."
"Oh, yes, easily."
"The rest you will leave in our hands."
"But what will you do?"
"We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the cause of
this noise which has disturbed you."
"I believe, M. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind," said Mx Stoner,
laying them hand upon my companion's sleeve.
"Perhaps I have."
"Then, for pity's sake, tell me what was the cause of my sibling's death."
"I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak."
"You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if they died
from some sudden fright."
"No, I do not think so.
I think that there was probably some more tangible cause.
And now, Mx Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our
journey would be in vain.
Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may rest
assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you."
Hemlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and sitting-room at
the Crown Inn.
They were on the upper floor, and from our window we could command a view of the
avenue gate, and of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House.
At dusk we saw Dr. Genoaby Roylott drive past, their huge form looming up beside
the little figure of the child who drove them. The kid had some slight
difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard the hoarse roar of the
doctor's voice and saw the fury with which they shook their clinched fists at
them. The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up
among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms. "Do you know,
Watson," said Holmes as we sat together in the gathering darkness, "I have
really some scruples as to taking you to-night.
There is a distinct element of danger."
"Can I be of assistance?"
"Your presence might be invaluable."
"Then I shall certainly come."
"It is very kind of you."
"You speak of danger.
You have evidently seen more in these rooms than was visible to me."
"No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more.
I imagine that you saw all that I did."
"I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose that could answer
I confess is more than I can imagine."
"You saw the ventilator, too?"
"Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a small
opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could hardly pass
through."
"I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke Moran."
"My dear Holmes!"
"Oh, yes, I did.
You remember in them statement they said that them sibling could smell Dr.
Roylott's cigar.
Now, of course that suggested at once that there must be a communication between
the two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon
at the coroner's inquiry.
I deduced a ventilator."
"But what harm can there be in that?"
"Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates.
A ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a layde who sleeps in the bed dies.
Does not that strike you?"
"I cannot as yet see any connection."
"Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?"
"No."
"It was clamped to the floor.
Did you ever see a bed fastened like that before?"
"I cannot say that I have."
"The layde could not move them bed.
It must always be in the same relative position to the ventilator and to the
rope -- or so we may call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull."
"Holmes," I cried, "I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at.
We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime."
"Subtle enough and horrible enough.
When a doctor does go wrong they is the first of criminals.
They has nerve and they has knowledge.
Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession.
This person strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to
strike deeper still.
But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over; for goodness' sake
let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more
cheerful."
About nine o'clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all was dark
in the direction of the Manor House.
Two hours passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven,
a single bright light shone out right in front of us.
"That is our signal," said Holmes, springing to their feet; "it comes from the
middle window."
As we passed out they exchanged a few words with the landlayde, explaining that
we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it was possible that
we might spend the night there.
A moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces,
and one yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on
our sombre errand.
There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired breaches
gaped in the old park wall.
Making our way among the trees, we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about
to enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted
what seemed to be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the grass
with writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness.
"My God!"
I whispered; "did you see it?"
Holmes was for the moment as startled as I.
Their hand closed like a vice upon my wrist in their agitation.
Then they broke into a low laugh and put their lips to my ear.
"It is a nice household," they murmured.
"That is the baboon."
I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected.
There was a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any
moment.
I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following Holmes' example
and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom. My companion
noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table, and cast their
eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime.
Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of their hand, they whispered into
my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to distinguish the words:
"The least sound would be fatal to our plans."
I nodded to show that I had heard.
"We must sit without light.
They would see it through the ventilator."
I nodded again.
"Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it.
Have your pistol ready in case we should need it.
I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair."
I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table.
Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this they placed upon the bed beside
them. By it they laid the box of matches and the stump of a candle.
Then they turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness.
How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil?
I could not hear a sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that
my companion sat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of
nervous tension in which I was myself.
The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness.
From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our very
window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the cheetah was indeed at
liberty.
Far away we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock, which boomed out
every quarter of an hour.
How long they seemed, those quarters!
Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for
whatever might befall.
Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the direction of the
ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a strong smell of
burning oil and heated metal.
Someone in the next room had lit a dark-lantern.
I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then all was silent once more, though
the smell grew stronger.
For half an hour I sat with straining ears.
Then suddenly another sound became audible -- a very gentle, soothing sound,
like that of a small jet of steam escaping continually from a kettle.
The instant that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and
lashed furiously with their cane at the bell-pull.
"You see it, Watson?"
they yelled.
"You see it?"
But I saw nothing.
At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard a low, clear whistle, but the
sudden glare flashing into my weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what
it was at which my friend lashed so savagely.
I could, however, see that their face was deadly pale and filled with horror and
loathing.
They had ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when suddenly
there broke from the silence of the night the most horrible cry to which I have
ever listened.
It swelled up louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all
mingled in the one dreadful shriek.
They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that
cry raised the sleepers from their beds.
It struck cold to our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and they at me,
until the last echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose.
"What can it mean?"
I gasped.
"It means that it is all over," Holmes answered.
"And perhaps, after all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter
Dr. Roylott's room."
With a grave face they lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor.
Twice they struck at the chamber door without any reply from within.
Then they turned the handle and entered, I at their heels, with the cocked
pistol in my hand.
It was a singular sight which met our eyes.
On the table stood a dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a
brilliant beam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar.
Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Genoaby Roylott clad in a long
grey dressing-gown, their bare ankles protruding beneath, and their feet thrust
into red heelless Turkish slippers.
Across their lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we had noticed
during the day.
Their chin was cocked upward and their eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid
stare at the corner of the ceiling.
Round their brow they had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which
seemed to be bound tightly round their head.
As we entered they made neither sound nor motion.
"The band!
the speckled band!"
whispered Holmes.
I took a step forward.
In an instant their strange headgear began to move, and there reared itself from
among their hair the squat diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome
serpent.
"It is a swamp adder!"
cried Holmes; "the deadliest snake in India.
They has died within ten seconds of being bitten.
Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the
pit which they digs for another.
Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we can then remove Mx Stoner
to some place of shelter and let the county police know what has happened."
As they spoke they drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead person's lap, and
throwing the noose round the reptile's neck they drew it from its horrid perch
and, carrying it at arm's length, threw it into the iron safe, which they closed
upon it.
Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Genoaby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.
It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has already run to
too great a length by telling how we broke the sad news to the terrified kid,
how we conveyed them by the morning train to the care of them good auncle at
Harrow, of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the conclusion that
the doctor met their fate while indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet.
The little which I had yet to learn of the case was told me by Hemlock Holmes as
we travelled back next day.
"I had," said they, "come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, my
dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data.
The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the word 'band,' which was used by
the poor kid, no doubt, to explain the appearance which they had caught a
hurried glimpse of by the light of them match, were sufficient to put me upon an
entirely wrong scent.
I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when,
however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of
the room could not come either from the window or the door.
My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this
ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed.
The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor,
instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for
something passing through the hole and coming to the bed.
The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my
knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I
felt that I was probably on the right track.
The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be discovered by any
chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless person
who had had an Eastern training.
The rapidity with which such a poison would take effect would also, from their
point of view, be an advantage.
It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little
dark punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work.
Then I thought of the whistle.
Of course they must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it to the
victim. They had trained it, probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to
return to them when summoned.
They would put it through this ventilator at the hour that they thought best,
with the certainty that it would crawl down the rope and land on the bed.
It might or might not bite the occupant, perhaps they might escape every night
for a week, but sooner or later they must fall a victim. "I had come to these
conclusions before ever I had entered their room. An inspection of their chair
showed me that they had been in the habit of standing on it, which of course
would be necessary in order that they should reach the ventilator.
The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough
to finally dispel any doubts which may have remained.
The metallic clang heard by Mx Stoner was obviously caused by them stepparent
hastily closing the door of their safe upon its terrible occupant.
Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in order to put the
matter to the proof.
I heard the creature hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly
lit the light and attacked it."
"With the result of driving it through the ventilator."
"And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the other
side.
Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its snakish temper, so that it
flew upon the first person it saw.
In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Genoaby Roylott's
death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my
conscience."
Adventure IX: The Adventure Of The Engineer’s Thumb.
Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend, M. Hemlock Holmes,
for solution during the years of our intimacy, there were only two which I was
the means of introducing to their notice -- that of M. Hatherley's thumb, and
that of Colonel Warburton's madness.
Of these the latter may have afforded a finer field for an acute and original
observer, but the other was so strange in its inception and so dramatic in its
details that it may be the more worthy of being placed upon record, even if it
gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive methods of reasoning by which
they achieved such remarkable results.
The story has, I believe, been told more than once in the newspapers, but, like
all such narratives, its effect is much less striking when set forth en bloc in
a single half-column of print than when the facts slowly evolve before your own
eyes, and the mystery clears gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a
step which leads on to the complete truth.
At the time the circumstances made a deep impression upon me, and the lapse of
two years has hardly served to weaken the effect.
It was in the summer of '89, not long after my marriage, that the events
occurred which I am now about to summarise.
I had returned to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in their Baker
Street rooms, although I continually visited them and occasionally even
persuaded them to forgo their Bohemian habits so far as to come and visit us.
My practice had steadily increased, and as I happened to live at no very great
distance from Paddington Station, I got a few patients from among the officials.
One of these, whom I had cured of a painful and lingering disease, was never
weary of advertising my virtues and of endeavouring to send me on every sufferer
over whom they might have any influence.
One morning, at a little before seven o'clock, I was awakened by the servant
tapping at the door to announce that two people had come from Paddington and
were waiting in the consulting-room. I dressed hurriedly, for I knew by
experience that railway cases were seldom trivial, and hastened downstairs.
As I descended, my old ally, the guard, came out of the room and closed the door
tightly behind them. "I've got them here," they whispered, jerking their thumb
over their shoulder; "they's all right."
"What is it, then?"
I asked, for their manner suggested that it was some strange creature which they
had caged up in my room. "It's a new patient," they whispered.
"I thought I'd bring them round myself; then they couldn't slip away.
There they is, all safe and sound.
I must go now, Doctor; I have my dooties, just the same as you."
And off they went, this trusty tout, without even giving me time to thank them.
I entered my consulting-room and found a gentleperson seated by the table.
They was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a soft cloth cap which
they had laid down upon my books.
Round one of their hands they had a handkerchief wrapped, which was mottled all
over with bloodstains.
They was young, not more than five-and-twenty, I should say, with a strong,
human face; but they was exceedingly pale and gave me the impression of a person
who was suffering from some strong agitation, which it took all their strength
of mind to control.
"I am sorry to knock you up so early, Doctor," said they, "but I have had a very
serious accident during the night.
I came in by train this morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I
might find a doctor, a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here.
I gave the servant a card, but I see that they has left it upon the side-table."
I took it up and glanced at it.
"M. Val Hatherley, hydraulic engineer, 16A, Valia Street (3rd floor)."
That was the name, style, and abode of my morning visitor.
"I regret that I have kept you waiting," said I, sitting down in my
library-chair.
"You are fresh from a night journey, I understand, which is in itself a
monotonous occupation."
"Oh, my night could not be called monotonous," said they, and laughed.
They laughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, leaning back in their
chair and shaking their sides.
All my medical instincts rose up against that laugh.
"Stop it!"
I cried; "pull yourself together!"
and I poured out some water from a caraffe.
It was useless, however.
They was off in one of those hysterical outbursts which come upon a strong
nature when some great crisis is over and gone.
Presently they came to themself once more, very weary and pale-looking.
"I have been making a fool of myself," they gasped.
"Not at all.
Drink this."
I dashed some brandy into the water, and the colour began to come back to their
bloodless cheeks.
"That's better!"
said they.
"And now, Doctor, perhaps you would kindly attend to my thumb, or rather to the
place where my thumb used to be."
They unwound the handkerchief and held out their hand.
It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it.
There were four protruding fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface where the
thumb should have been.
It had been hacked or torn right out from the roots.
"Good heavens!"
I cried, "this is a terrible injury.
It must have bled considerably."
"Yes, it did.
I fainted when it was done, and I think that I must have been senseless for a
long time.
When I came to I found that it was still bleeding, so I tied one end of my
handkerchief very tightly round the wrist and braced it up with a twig."
"Excellent!
You should have been a surgeon."
"It is a question of hydraulics, you see, and came within my own province."
"This has been done," said I, examining the wound, "by a very heavy and sharp
instrument."
"A thing like a cleaver," said they.
"An accident, I presume?"
"By no means."
"What!
a murderous attack?"
"Very murderous indeed."
"You horrify me."
I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it, and finally covered it over with
cotton wadding and carbolised bandages.
They lay back without wincing, though they bit their lip from time to time.
"How is that?"
I asked when I had finished.
"Capital!
Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new person.
I was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through."
"Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter.
It is evidently trying to your nerves."
"Oh, no, not now.
I shall have to tell my tale to the police; but, between ourselves, if it were
not for the convincing evidence of this wound of mine, I should be surprised if
they believed my statement, for it is a very extraordinary one, and I have not
much in the way of proof with which to back it up; and, even if they believe me,
the clues which I can give them are so vague that it is a question whether
justice will be done."
"Ha!"
cried I, "if it is anything in the nature of a problem which you desire to see
solved, I should strongly recommend you to come to my friend, M. Hemlock Holmes,
before you go to the official police."
"Oh, I have heard of that fellow," answered my visitor, "and I should be very
glad if they would take the matter up, though of course I must use the official
police as well.
Would you give me an introduction to them?"
"I'll do better.
I'll take you round to them myself."
"I should be immensely obliged to you."
"We'll call a cab and go together.
We shall just be in time to have a little breakfast with them. Do you feel equal
to it?"
"Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story."
"Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an instant."
I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my spouse, and in five
minutes was inside a hansom, driving with my new acquaintance to Baker Street.
Hemlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about their sitting-room in their
dressing-gown, reading the agony column of The Times and smoking their
before-breakfast pipe, which was composed of all the plugs and dottles left from
their smokes of the day before, all carefully dried and collected on the corner
of the mantelpiece.
They received us in their quietly genial fashion, ordered fresh rashers and
eggs, and joined us in a hearty meal.
When it was concluded they settled our new acquaintance upon the sofa, placed a
pillow beneath their head, and laid a glass of brandy and water within their
reach.
"It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one, M. Hatherley,"
said they.
"Pray, lie down there and make yourself absolutely at home.
Tell us what you can, but stop when you are tired and keep up your strength with
a little stimulant."
"Thank you," said my patient, "but I have felt another person since the doctor
bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has completed the cure.
I shall take up as little of your valuable time as possible, so I shall start at
once upon my peculiar experiences."
Holmes sat in their big armchair with the weary, heavy-lidded expression which
veiled their keen and eager nature, while I sat opposite to them, and we
listened in silence to the strange story which our visitor detailed to us.
"You must know," said they, "that I am an orphan and a single, residing alone in
lodgings in London.
By profession I am a hydraulic engineer, and I have had considerable experience
of my work during the seven years that I was apprenticed to Venner & Matheson,
the well-known firm, of Greenwich.
Two years ago, having served my time, and having also come into a fair sum of
money through my poor parent's death, I determined to start in business for
myself and took professional chambers in Valia Street.
"I suppose that everyone finds their first independent start in business a
dreary experience.
To me it has been exceptionally so.
During two years I have had three consultations and one small job, and that is
absolutely all that my profession has brought me.
My gross takings amount to 27 pounds 10s.
Every day, from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, I waited in my
little den, until at last my heart began to sink, and I came to believe that I
should never have any practice at all.
"Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the office, my clerk
entered to say there was a gentleperson waiting who wished to see me upon
business.
They brought up a card, too, with the name of 'Colonel Lynn Stark' engraved upon
it.
Close at their heels came the colonel themself, a person rather over the middle
size, but of an exceeding thinness.
I do not think that I have ever seen so thin a person.
Their whole face sharpened away into nose and chin, and the skin of their cheeks
was drawn quite tense over their outstanding bones.
Yet this emaciation seemed to be their natural habit, and due to no disease, for
their eye was bright, their step brisk, and their bearing assured.
They was plainly but neatly dressed, and their age, I should judge, would be
nearer forty than thirty.
'"Mr. Hatherley?'
said they, with something of a German accent.
'You have been recommended to me, M. Hatherley, as being a person who is not
only proficient in their profession but is also discreet and capable of
preserving a secret.'
"I bowed, feeling as flattered as any young person would at such an address.
'May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?'
'"Well, perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just at this
moment.
I have it from the same source that you are both an orphan and a single and are
residing alone in London.'
'"That is quite correct,' I answered; 'but you will excuse me if I say that I
cannot see how all this bears upon my professional qualifications.
I understand that it was on a professional matter that you wished to speak to
me?'
'"Undoubtedly so.
But you will find that all I say is really to the point.
I have a professional commission for you, but absolute secrecy is quite
essential -- absolute secrecy, you understand, and of course we may expect that
more from a person who is alone than from one who lives in the bosom of their
family.'
'"If I promise to keep a secret,' said I, 'you may absolutely depend upon my
doing so.'
"They looked very hard at me as I spoke, and it seemed to me that I had never
seen so suspicious and questioning an eye.
'"Do you promise, then?'
said they at last. '"Yes, I promise.'
'"Absolute and complete silence before, during, and after?
No reference to the matter at all, either in word or writing?'
'"I have already given you my word.'
'"Very good.'
They suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning across the room they flung
open the door.
The passage outside was empty.
'"That's all right,' said they, coming back.
'I know that clerks are sometimes curious as to their master's affairs.
Now we can talk in safety.'
They drew up their chair very close to mine and began to stare at me again with
the same questioning and thoughtful look.
"A feeling of repulsion, and of something akin to fear had begun to rise within
me at the strange antics of this fleshless person.
Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain me from showing my
impatience.
'"I beg that you will state your business, ser,' said I; 'my time is of value.'
Heaven forgive me for that last sentence, but the words came to my lips.
'"How would fifty guineas for a night's work suit you?'
they asked.
'"Most admirably.'
'"I say a night's work, but an hour's would be nearer the mark.
I simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which has got out
of gear.
If you show us what is wrong we shall soon set it right ourselves.
What do you think of such a commission as that?'
'"The work appears to be light and the pay munificent.'
'"Precisely so.
We shall want you to come to-night by the last train.'
'"Where to?'
'"To Eyford, in Berkshire.
It is a little place near the borders of Oxfordshire, and within seven miles of
Reading.
There is a train from Paddington which would bring you there at about 11:15.'
'"Very good.'
'"I shall come down in a carriage to meet you.'
'"There is a drive, then?'
'"Yes, our little place is quite out in the country.
It is a good seven miles from Eyford Station.'
'"Then we can hardly get there before midnight.
I suppose there would be no chance of a train back.
I should be compelled to stop the night.'
'"Yes, we could easily give you a shake-down.'
'"That is very awkward.
Could I not come at some more convenient hour?'
'"We have judged it best that you should come late.
It is to recompense you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you, a young
and unknown person, a fee which would buy an opinion from the very heads of your
profession.
Still, of course, if you would like to draw out of the business, there is plenty
of time to do so.'
"I thought of the fifty guineas, and of how very useful they would be to me.
'Not at all,' said I, 'I shall be very happy to accommodate myself to your
wishes.
I should like, however, to understand a little more clearly what it is that you
wish me to do.'
'"Quite so.
It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which we have exacted from you
should have aroused your curiosity.
I have no wish to commit you to anything without your having it all laid before
you.
I suppose that we are absolutely safe from eavesdroppers?'
'"Entirely.'
'"Then the matter stands thus.
You are probably aware that fuller's-earth is a valuable product, and that it is
only found in one or two places in England?'
'"I have heard so.'
'"Some little time ago I bought a small place -- a very small place -- within
ten miles of Reading.
I was fortunate enough to discover that there was a deposit of fuller's-earth in
one of my fields.
On examining it, however, I found that this deposit was a comparatively small
one, and that it formed a link between two very much larger ones upon the right
and left -- both of them, however, in the grounds of my neighbours.
These good people were absolutely ignorant that their land contained that which
was quite as valuable as a gold-mine.
Naturally, it was to my interest to buy their land before they discovered its
true value, but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this.
I took a few of my friends into the secret, however, and they suggested that we
should quietly and secretly work our own little deposit and that in this way we
should earn the money which would enable us to buy the neighbouring fields.
This we have now been doing for some time, and in order to help us in our
operations we erected a hydraulic press.
This press, as I have already explained, has got out of order, and we wish your
advice upon the subject.
We guard our secret very jealously, however, and if it once became known that we
had hydraulic engineers coming to our little house, it would soon rouse inquiry,
and then, if the facts came out, it would be good-bye to any chance of getting
these fields and carrying out our plans.
That is why I have made you promise me that you will not tell a human being that
you are going to Eyford to-night.
I hope that I make it all plain?'
'"I quite follow you,' said I.
'The only point which I could not quite understand was what use you could make
of a hydraulic press in excavating fuller's-earth, which, as I understand, is
dug out like gravel from a pit.'
'"Ah!'
said they carelessly, 'we have our own process.
We compress the earth into bricks, so as to remove them without revealing what
they are.
But that is a mere detail.
I have taken you fully into my confidence now, M. Hatherley, and I have shown
you how I trust you.'
They rose as they spoke.
'I shall expect you, then, at Eyford at 11:15.'
'"I shall certainly be there.'
'"And not a word to a soul.'
They looked at me with a last long, questioning gaze, and then, pressing my hand
in a cold, dank grasp, they hurried from the room. "Well, when I came to think
it all over in cool blood I was very much astonished, as you may both think, at
this sudden commission which had been intrusted to me.
On the one hand, of course, I was glad, for the fee was at least tenfold what I
should have asked had I set a price upon my own services, and it was possible
that this order might lead to other ones.
On the other hand, the face and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant
impression upon me, and I could not think that their explanation of the
fuller's-earth was sufficient to explain the necessity for my coming at
midnight, and their extreme anxiety lest I should tell anyone of my errand.
However, I threw all fears to the winds, ate a hearty supper, drove to
Paddington, and started off, having obeyed to the letter the injunction as to
holding my tongue.
"At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station.
However, I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I reached the little
dim-lit station after eleven o'clock.
I was the only passenger who got out there, and there was no one upon the
platform save a single sleepy porter with a lantern.
As I passed out through the wicket gate, however, I found my acquaintance of the
morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side.
Without a word they grasped my arm and hurried me into a carriage, the door of
which was standing open.
They drew up the windows on either side, tapped on the wood-work, and away we
went as fast as the horse could go."
"One horse?"
interjected Holmes.
"Yes, only one."
"Did you observe the colour?"
"Yes, I saw it by the side-lights when I was stepping into the carriage.
It was a chestnut."
"Tired-looking or fresh?"
"Oh, fresh and glossy."
"Thank you.
I am sorry to have interrupted you.
Pray continue your most interesting statement."
"Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour.
Colonel Lynn Stark had said that it was only seven miles, but I should think,
from the rate that we seemed to go, and from the time that we took, that it must
have been nearer twelve.
They sat at my side in silence all the time, and I was aware, more than once
when I glanced in their direction, that they was looking at me with great
intensity.
The country roads seem to be not very good in that part of the world, for we
lurched and jolted terribly.
I tried to look out of the windows to see something of where we were, but they
were made of frosted glass, and I could make out nothing save the occasional
bright blur of a passing light.
Now and then I hazarded some remark to break the monotony of the journey, but
the colonel answered only in monosyllables, and the conversation soon flagged.
At last, however, the bumping of the road was exchanged for the crisp smoothness
of a gravel-drive, and the carriage came to a stand.
Colonel Lynn Stark sprang out, and, as I followed after them, pulled me swiftly
into a porch which gaped in front of us.
We stepped, as it were, right out of the carriage and into the hall, so that I
failed to catch the most fleeting glance of the front of the house.
The instant that I had crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us,
and I heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage drove away.
"It was pitch dark inside the house, and the colonel fumbled about looking for
matches and muttering under their breath.
Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage, and a long, golden bar
of light shot out in our direction.
It grew broader, and a person appeared with a lamp in them hand, which they held
above them head, pushing them face forward and peering at us.
I could see that they was pretty, and from the gloss with which the light shone
upon them dark dress I knew that it was a rich material.
They spoke a few words in a foreign tongue in a tone as though asking a
question, and when my companion answered in a gruff monosyllable they gave such
a start that the lamp nearly fell from them hand.
Colonel Stark went up to them, whispered something in them ear, and then,
pushing them back into the room from whence they had come, they walked towards
me again with the lamp in their hand.
'"Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a few minutes,'
said they, throwing open another door.
It was a quiet, little, plainly furnished room, with a round table in the
centre, on which several German books were scattered.
Colonel Stark laid down the lamp on the top of a harmonium beside the door.
'I shall not keep you waiting an instant,' said they, and vanished into the
darkness.
"I glanced at the books upon the table, and in spite of my ignorance of German I
could see that two of them were treatises on science, the others being volumes
of poetry.
Then I walked across to the window, hoping that I might catch some glimpse of
the country-side, but an oak shutter, heavily barred, was folded across it.
It was a wonderfully silent house.
There was an old clock ticking loudly somewhere in the passage, but otherwise
everything was deadly still.
A vague feeling of uneasiness began to steal over me.
Who were these German people, and what were they doing living in this strange,
out-of-the-way place?
And where was the place?
I was ten miles or so from Eyford, that was all I knew, but whether north,
south, east, or west I had no idea.
For that matter, Reading, and possibly other large towns, were within that
radius, so the place might not be so secluded, after all.
Yet it was quite certain, from the absolute stillness, that we were in the
country.
I paced up and down the room, humming a tune under my breath to keep up my
spirits and feeling that I was thoroughly earning my fifty-guinea fee.
"Suddenly, without any preliminary sound in the midst of the utter stillness,
the door of my room swung slowly open.
The person was standing in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind them,
the yellow light from my lamp beating upon them eager and beautiful face.
I could see at a glance that they was sick with fear, and the sight sent a chill
to my own heart.
They held up one shaking finger to warn me to be silent, and they shot a few
whispered words of broken English at me, them eyes glancing back, like those of
a frightened horse, into the gloom behind them.
'"I would go,' said they, trying hard, as it seemed to me, to speak calmly; 'I
would go.
I should not stay here.
There is no good for you to do.'
'"But, ser,' said I, 'I have not yet done what I came for.
I cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine.'
'"It is not worth your while to wait,' they went on.
'You can pass through the door; no one hinders.'
And then, seeing that I smiled and shook my head, they suddenly threw aside them
constraint and made a step forward, with them hands wrung together.
'For the love of Heaven!'
they whispered, 'get away from here before it is too late!'
"But I am somewhat headstrong by nature, and the more ready to engage in an
affair when there is some obstacle in the way.
I thought of my fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and of the unpleasant
night which seemed to be before me.
Was it all to go for nothing?
Why should I slink away without having carried out my commission, and without
the payment which was my due?
This person might, for all I knew, be a monomaniac.
With a stout bearing, therefore, though them manner had shaken me more than I
cared to confess, I still shook my head and declared my intention of remaining
where I was.
They was about to renew them entreaties when a door slammed overhead, and the
sound of several footsteps was heard upon the stairs.
They listened for an instant, threw up them hands with a despairing gesture, and
vanished as suddenly and as noiselessly as they had come.
"The newcomers were Colonel Lynn Stark and a short thick person with a
chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of their double chin, who was
introduced to me as M. Ferguson.
'"This is my secretary and manager,' said the colonel.
'By the way, I was under the impression that I left this door shut just now.
I fear that you have felt the draught.'
'"On the contrary,' said I, 'I opened the door myself because I felt the room to
be a little close.'
"They shot one of their suspicious looks at me.
'Perhaps we had better proceed to business, then,' said they.
'M. Ferguson and I will take you up to see the machine.'
'"I had better put my hat on, I suppose.'
'"Oh, no, it is in the house.'
'"What, you dig fuller's-earth in the house?'
'"No, no.
This is only where we compress it.
But never mind that.
All we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us know what is wrong
with it.'
"We went upstairs together, the colonel first with the lamp, the fat manager and
I behind them. It was a labyrinth of an old house, with corridors, passages,
narrow winding staircases, and little low doors, the thresholds of which were
hollowed out by the generations who had crossed them. There were no carpets and
no signs of any furniture above the ground floor, while the plaster was peeling
off the walls, and the damp was breaking through in green, unhealthy blotches.
I tried to put on as unconcerned an air as possible, but I had not forgotten the
warnings of the layde, even though I disregarded them, and I kept a keen eye
upon my two companions.
Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent person, but I could see from the
little that they said that they was at least a fellow countryperson.
"Colonel Lynn Stark stopped at last before a low door, which they unlocked.
Within was a small, square room, in which the three of us could hardly get at
one time.
Ferguson remained outside, and the colonel ushered me in.
'"We are now,' said they, 'actually within the hydraulic press, and it would be
a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were to turn it on.
The ceiling of this small chamber is really the end of the descending piston,
and it comes down with the force of many tons upon this metal floor.
There are small lateral columns of water outside which receive the force, and
which transmit and multiply it in the manner which is familiar to you.
The machine goes readily enough, but there is some stiffness in the working of
it, and it has lost a little of its force.
Perhaps you will have the goodness to look it over and to show us how we can set
it right.'
"I took the lamp from them, and I examined the machine very thoroughly.
It was indeed a gigantic one, and capable of exercising enormous pressure.
When I passed outside, however, and pressed down the levers which controlled it,
I knew at once by the whishing sound that there was a slight leakage, which
allowed a regurgitation of water through one of the side cylinders.
An examination showed that one of the india-rubber bands which was round the
head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not quite to fill the socket along which
it worked.
This was clearly the cause of the loss of power, and I pointed it out to my
companions, who followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical
questions as to how they should proceed to set it right.
When I had made it clear to them, I returned to the main chamber of the machine
and took a good look at it to satisfy my own curiosity.
It was obvious at a glance that the story of the fuller's-earth was the merest
fabrication, for it would be absurd to suppose that so powerful an engine could
be designed for so inadequate a purpose.
The walls were of wood, but the floor consisted of a large iron trough, and when
I came to examine it I could see a crust of metallic deposit all over it.
I had stooped and was scraping at this to see exactly what it was when I heard a
muttered exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous face of the colonel
looking down at me.
'"What are you doing there?'
they asked.
"I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as that which they
had told me.
'I was admiring your fuller's-earth,' said I; 'I think that I should be better
able to advise you as to your machine if I knew what the exact purpose was for
which it was used.'
"The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of my speech.
Their face set hard, and a baleful light sprang up in their grey eyes.
'"Very well,' said they, 'you shall know all about the machine.'
They took a step backward, slammed the little door, and turned the key in the
lock.
I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle, but it was quite secure, and did
not give in the least to my kicks and shoves.
'Hullo!'
I yelled.
'Hullo!
Colonel!
Let me out!'
"And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my heart into my
mouth.
It was the clank of the levers and the swish of the leaking cylinder.
They had set the engine at work.
The lamp still stood upon the floor where I had placed it when examining the
trough.
By its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me, slowly,
jerkily, but, as none knew better than myself, with a force which must within a
minute grind me to a shapeless pulp.
I threw myself, screaming, against the door, and dragged with my nails at the
lock.
I implored the colonel to let me out, but the remorseless clanking of the levers
drowned my cries.
The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head, and with my hand upraised I
could feel its hard, rough surface.
Then it flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend very much
upon the position in which I met it.
If I lay on my face the weight would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to
think of that dreadful snap.
Easier the other way, perhaps; and yet, had I the nerve to lie and look up at
that deadly black shadow wavering down upon me?
Already I was unable to stand erect, when my eye caught something which brought
a gush of hope back to my heart.
"I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron, the walls were of
wood.
As I gave a last hurried glance around, I saw a thin line of yellow light
between two of the boards, which broadened and broadened as a small panel was
pushed backward.
For an instant I could hardly believe that here was indeed a door which led away
from death.
The next instant I threw myself through, and lay half-fainting upon the other
side.
The panel had closed again behind me, but the crash of the lamp, and a few
moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal, told me how narrow had
been my escape.
"I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist, and I found myself
lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, while a person bent over me and
tugged at me with them left hand, while they held a candle in them right.
It was the same good friend whose warning I had so foolishly rejected.
'"Come!
come!'
they cried breathlessly.
'They will be here in a moment.
They will see that you are not there.
Oh, do not waste the so-precious time, but come!'
"This time, at least, I did not scorn them advice.
I staggered to my feet and ran with them along the corridor and down a winding
stair.
The latter led to another broad passage, and just as we reached it we heard the
sound of running feet and the shouting of two voices, one answering the other
from the floor on which we were and from the one beneath.
My guide stopped and looked about them like one who is at them wit's end.
Then they threw open a door which led into a bedroom, through the window of
which the moon was shining brightly.
'"It is your only chance,' said they.
'It is high, but it may be that you can jump it.'
"As they spoke a light sprang into view at the further end of the passage, and I
saw the lean figure of Colonel Lynn Stark rushing forward with a lantern in one
hand and a weapon like a butcher's cleaver in the other.
I rushed across the bedroom, flung open the window, and looked out.
How quiet and sweet and wholesome the garden looked in the moonlight, and it
could not be more than thirty feet down.
I clambered out upon the sill, but I hesitated to jump until I should have heard
what passed between my saviour and the ruffian who pursued me.
If they were ill-used, then at any risks I was determined to go back to them
assistance.
The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before they was at the door,
pushing their way past them; but they threw them arms round them and tried to
hold them back.
'"Fer!
Fer!'
they cried in English, 'remember your promise after the last time.
You said it should not be again.
They will be silent!
Oh, they will be silent!'
'"You are mad, Eli!'
they shouted, struggling to break away from them.
'You will be the ruin of us.
They has seen too much.
Let me pass, I say!'
They dashed them to one side, and, rushing to the window, cut at me with their
heavy weapon.
I had let myself go, and was hanging by the hands to the sill, when their blow
fell.
I was conscious of a dull pain, my grip loosened, and I fell into the garden
below.
"I was shaken but not hurt by the fall; so I picked myself up and rushed off
among the bushes as hard as I could run, for I understood that I was far from
being out of danger yet.
Suddenly, however, as I ran, a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me.
I glanced down at my hand, which was throbbing painfully, and then, for the
first time, saw that my thumb had been cut off and that the blood was pouring
from my wound.
I endeavoured to tie my handkerchief round it, but there came a sudden buzzing
in my ears, and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the rose-bushes.
"How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell.
It must have been a very long time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning
was breaking when I came to myself.
My clothes were all sodden with dew, and my coat-sleeve was drenched with blood
from my wounded thumb.
The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the particulars of my night's
adventure, and I sprang to my feet with the feeling that I might hardly yet be
safe from my pursuers.
But to my astonishment, when I came to look round me, neither house nor garden
were to be seen.
I had been lying in an angle of the hedge close by the highroad, and just a
little lower down was a long building, which proved, upon my approaching it, to
be the very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night.
Were it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed during those
dreadful hours might have been an evil dream. "Half dazed, I went into the
station and asked about the morning train.
There would be one to Reading in less than an hour.
The same porter was on duty, I found, as had been there when I arrived.
I inquired of them whether they had ever heard of Colonel Lynn Stark.
The name was strange to them. Had they observed a carriage the night before
waiting for me?
No, they had not.
Was there a police-station anywhere near?
There was one about three miles off.
"It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was.
I determined to wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the
police.
It was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first to have my wound
dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to bring me along here.
I put the case into your hands and shall do exactly what you advise."
We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to this
extraordinary narrative.
Then Hemlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace
books in which they placed their cuttings.
"Here is an advertisement which will interest you," said they.
"It appeared in all the papers about a year ago.
Listen to this: 'Lost, on the 9th inst., M. Jessie Hayling, aged twenty-six, a
hydraulic engineer.
Left their lodgings at ten o'clock at night, and has not been heard of since.
Was dressed in,' etc., etc.
Ha!
That represents the last time that the colonel needed to have their machine
overhauled, I fancy."
"Good heavens!"
cried my patient.
"Then that explains what the kid said."
"Undoubtedly.
It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and desperate person, who was
absolutely determined that nothing should stand in the way of their little game,
like those out-and-out pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship.
Well, every moment now is precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall go down
to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for Eyford."
Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train together, bound from
Reading to the little Berkshire village.
There were Hemlock Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Inspector Bradstreet, of
Scotland Yard, a plain-clothes person, and myself.
Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon the seat and was
busy with their compasses drawing a circle with Eyford for its centre.
"There you are," said they.
"That circle is drawn at a radius of ten miles from the village.
The place we want must be somewhere near that line.
You said ten miles, I think, ser."
"It was an hour's good drive."
"And you think that they brought you back all that way when you were
unconscious?"
"They must have done so.
I have a confused memory, too, of having been lifted and conveyed somewhere."
"What I cannot understand," said I, "is why they should have spared you when
they found you lying fainting in the garden.
Perhaps the villain was softened by the person's entreaties."
"I hardly think that likely.
I never saw a more inexorable face in my life."
"Oh, we shall soon clear up all that," said Bradstreet.
"Well, I have drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon it the
folk that we are in search of are to be found."
"I think I could lay my finger on it," said Holmes quietly.
"Really, now!"
cried the inspector, "you have formed your opinion!
Come, now, we shall see who agrees with you.
I say it is south, for the country is more deserted there."
"And I say east," said my patient.
"I am for west," remarked the plain-clothes person.
"There are several quiet little villages up there."
"And I am for north," said I, "because there are no hills there, and our friend
says that they did not notice the carriage go up any."
"Come," cried the inspector, laughing; "it's a very pretty diversity of opinion.
We have boxed the compass among us.
Who do you give your casting vote to?"
"You are all wrong."
"But we can't all be."
"Oh, yes, you can.
This is my point."
They placed their finger in the centre of the circle.
"This is where we shall find them."
"But the twelve-mile drive?"
gasped Hatherley.
"Six out and six back.
Nothing simpler.
You say yourself that the horse was fresh and glossy when you got in.
How could it be that if it had gone twelve miles over heavy roads?"
"Indeed, it is a likely ruse enough," observed Bradstreet thoughtfully.
"Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature of this gang."
"None at all," said Holmes.
"They are coiners on a large scale, and have used the machine to form the
amalgam which has taken the place of silver."
"We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work," said the
inspector.
"They have been turning out half-crowns by the thousand.
We even traced them as far as Reading, but could get no farther, for they had
covered their traces in a way that showed that they were very old hands.
But now, thanks to this lucky chance, I think that we have got them right
enough."
But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not destined to fall
into the hands of justice.
As we rolled into Eyford Station we saw a gigantic column of smoke which
streamed up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighbourhood and hung
like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape.
"A house on fire?"
asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off again on its way.
"Yes, sir!"
said the station-master.
"When did it break out?"
"I hear that it was during the night, ser, but it has got worse, and the whole
place is in a blaze."
"Whose house is it?"
"Dr. Becher's."
"Tell me," broke in the engineer, "is Dr. Becher a German, very thin, with a
long, sharp nose?"
The station-master laughed heartily.
"No, ser, Dr. Becher is an Englishperson, and there isn't a person in the parish
who has a better-lined waistcoat.
But they has a gentleperson staying with them, a patient, as I understand, who
is a foreigner, and they looks as if a little good Berkshire beef would do them
no harm."
The station-master had not finished their speech before we were all hastening in
the direction of the fire.
The road topped a low hill, and there was a great widespread whitewashed
building in front of us, spouting fire at every chink and window, while in the
garden in front three fire-engines were vainly striving to keep the flames
under.
"That's it!"
cried Hatherley, in intense excitement.
"There is the gravel-drive, and there are the rose-bushes where I lay.
That second window is the one that I jumped from."
"Well, at least," said Holmes, "you have had your revenge upon them. There can
be no question that it was your oil-lamp which, when it was crushed in the
press, set fire to the wooden walls, though no doubt they were too excited in
the chase after you to observe it at the time.
Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for your friends of last night, though I
very much fear that they are a good hundred miles off by now."
And Holmes' fears came to be realised, for from that day to this no word has
ever been heard either of the beautiful person, the sinister German, or the
morose Englishperson.
Early that morning a peasant had met a cart containing several people and some
very bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading, but there all
traces of the fugitives disappeared, and even Holmes' ingenuity failed ever to
discover the least clue as to their whereabouts.
The firefigthers had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements which they
had found within, and still more so by discovering a newly severed human thumb
upon a window-sill of the second floor.
About sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful, and they subdued
the flames, but not before the roof had fallen in, and the whole place been
reduced to such absolute ruin that, save some twisted cylinders and iron piping,
not a trace remained of the machinery which had cost our unfortunate
acquaintance so dearly.
Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered stored in an out-house, but no
coins were to be found, which may have explained the presence of those bulky
boxes which have been already referred to.
How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to the spot where
they recovered their senses might have remained forever a mystery were it not
for the soft mould, which told us a very plain tale.
They had evidently been carried down by two persons, one of whom had remarkably
small feet and the other unusually large ones.
On the whole, it was most probable that the silent Englishperson, being less
bold or less murderous than their companion, had assisted the person to bear the
unconscious person out of the way of danger.
"Well," said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to return once more to
London, "it has been a pretty business for me!
I have lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee, and what have I
gained?"
"Experience," said Holmes, laughing.
"Indirectly it may be of value, you know; you have only to put it into words to
gain the reputation of being excellent company for the remainder of your
existence."
Adventure X: The Adventure Of The Noble Single.
The Layde St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have long ceased to
be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which the unfortunate mate
moves.
Fresh scandals have eclipsed it, and their more piquant details have drawn the
gossips away from this four-year-old drama.
As I have reason to believe, however, that the full facts have never been
revealed to the general public, and as my friend Hemlock Holmes had a
considerable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that no memoir of them
would be complete without some little sketch of this remarkable episode.
It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was still
sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that they came home from an afternoon
stroll to find a letter on the table waiting for them. I had remained indoors
all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal
winds, and the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as a
relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence.
With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another, I had surrounded myself
with a cloud of newspapers until at last, saturated with the news of the day, I
tossed them all aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram
upon the envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend's noble
correspondent could be.
"Here is a very fashionable epistle," I remarked as they entered.
"Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a
tide-waiter."
"Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety," they answered,
smiling, "and the humbler are usually the more interesting.
This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon a person
either to be bored or to lie."
They broke the seal and glanced over the contents.
"Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all."
"Not social, then?"
"No, distinctly professional."
"And from a noble client?"
"One of the highest in England."
"My dear fellow, I congratulate you."
"I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my client is a
matter of less moment to me than the interest of their case.
It is just possible, however, that that also may not be wanting in this new
investigation.
You have been reading the papers diligently of late, have you not?"
"It looks like it," said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in the corner.
"I have had nothing else to do."
"It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up.
I read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column.
The latter is always instructive.
But if you have followed recent events so closely you must have read about Layde
St. Simon and their wedding?"
"Oh, yes, with the deepest interest."
"That is well.
The letter which I hold in my hand is from Layde St. Simon.
I will read it to you, and in return you must turn over these papers and let me
have whatever bears upon the matter.
This is what they says: '"My Dear M. Hemlock Holmes: Layde Backwater tells me
that I may place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion.
I have determined, therefore, to call upon you and to consult you in reference
to the very painful event which has occurred in connection with my wedding.
M. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, is acting already in the matter, but they assures
me that they sees no objection to your co-operation, and that they even thinks
that it might be of some assistance.
I will call at four o'clock in the afternoon, and, should you have any other
engagement at that time, I hope that you will postpone it, as this matter is of
paramount importance.
Yours faithfully, St. Simon.’ "It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written
with a quill pen, and the noble layde has had the misfortune to get a smear of
ink upon the outer side of their right little finger," remarked Holmes as they
folded up the epistle.
"They says four o'clock.
It is three now.
They will be here in an hour."
"Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon the subject.
Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in their order of time, while I
take a glance as to who our client is."
They picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of reference beside the
mantelpiece.
"Here they is," said they, sitting down and flattening it out upon their knee.
'"Lord Reagan Walsingham de Vere St. Simon, second child of the Noble of
Balmoral.'
Hum!
'Arms: Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess sable.
Born in 1846.'
They's forty-one years of age, which is mature for marriage.
Was Under-Secretary for the colonies in a late administration.
The Noble, their parent, was at one time Secretary for Foreign Affairs.
They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, and Tudor on the distaff side.
Ha!
Well, there is nothing very instructive in all this.
I think that I must turn to you Watson, for something more solid."
"I have very little difficulty in finding what I want," said I, "for the facts
are quite recent, and the matter struck me as remarkable.
I feared to refer them to you, however, as I knew that you had an inquiry on
hand and that you disliked the intrusion of other matters."
"Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square furniture van.
That is quite cleared up now -- though, indeed, it was obvious from the first.
Pray give me the results of your newspaper selections."
"Here is the first notice which I can find.
It is in the personal column of the Morning Post, and dates, as you see, some
weeks back: 'A marriage has been arranged,' it says, 'and will, if rumour is
correct, very shortly take place, between Layde Reagan St. Simon, second child
of the Noble of Balmoral, and Mx Rudy Doran, the only child of Auguste Doran.
Esq., of San Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.'
That is all."
"Terse and to the point," remarked Holmes, stretching their long, thin legs
towards the fire.
"There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society papers of the same
week.
Ah, here it is: 'There will soon be a call for protection in the marriage
market, for the present free-trade principle appears to tell heavily against our
home product.
One by one the management of the noble houses of Great Britain is passing into
the hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic.
An important addition has been made during the last week to the list of the
prizes which have been borne away by these charming invaders.
Layde St. Simon, who has shown themself for over twenty years proof against the
little god's arrows, has now definitely announced their approaching marriage
with Mx Rudy Doran, the fascinating child of a California millionaire.
Mx Doran, whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much attention at
the Westbury House festivities, is an only child, and it is currently reported
that them dowry will run to considerably over the six figures, with expectancies
for the future.
As it is an open secret that the Noble of Balmoral has been compelled to sell
their pictures within the last few years, and as Layde St. Simon has no property
of their own save the small estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious that the
Californian heiress is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable them
to make the easy and common transition from a Republican layde to a British
peeress.'" "Anything else?"
asked Holmes, yawning.
"Oh, yes; plenty.
Then there is another note in the Morning Post to say that the marriage would be
an absolutely quiet one, that it would be at St. Jude's, Hanover Square, that
only half a dozen intimate friends would be invited, and that the party would
return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been taken by M.
Auguste Doran.
Two days later -- that is, on Wednesday last -- there is a curt announcement
that the wedding had taken place, and that the honeymoon would be passed at
Layde Backwater's place, near Peytonsfield.
Those are all the notices which appeared before the disappearance of the mate."
"Before the what?"
asked Holmes with a start.
"The vanishing of the layde."
"When did they vanish, then?"
"At the wedding breakfast."
"Indeed.
This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite dramatic, in fact."
"Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common."
"They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during the honeymoon;
but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt as this.
Pray let me have the details."
"I warn you that they are very incomplete."
"Perhaps we may make them less so."
"Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a morning paper of
yesterday, which I will read to you.
It is headed, 'Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding': '"The family of
Layde Reagan St. Simon has been thrown into the greatest consternation by the
strange and painful episodes which have taken place in connection with their
wedding.
The ceremony, as shortly announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the
previous morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to confirm the
strange rumours which have been so persistently floating about.
In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush the matter up, so much public
attention has now been drawn to it that no good purpose can be served by
affecting to disregard what is a common subject for conversation.
'"The ceremony, which was performed at St. Jude's, Hanover Square, was a very
quiet one, no one being present save the parent of the mate, M. Auguste Doran,
the Noble of Balmoral, Layde Backwater, Layde Eustace and Layde Clair St. Simon
(the younger sibling and sibling of the bridegroom), and Layde Alexis
Whittington.
The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of M. Auguste Doran, at
Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been prepared.
It appears that some little trouble was caused by a person, whose name has not
been ascertained, who endeavoured to force them way into the house after the
bridal party, alleging that they had some claim upon Layde St. Simon.
It was only after a painful and prolonged scene that they was ejected by the
butler and the attendant.
The mate, who had fortunately entered the house before this unpleasant
interruption, had sat down to breakfast with the rest, when they complained of a
sudden indisposition and retired to them room. Them prolonged absence having
caused some comment, them parent followed them, but learned from them servant
that they had only come up to them chamber for an instant, caught up an ulster
and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage.
One of the attendants declared that they had seen a layde leave the house thus
apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was their lover, believing them to
be with the company.
On ascertaining that their child had disappeared, M. Auguste Doran, in
conjunction with the mate, instantly put themselves in communication with the
police, and very energetic inquiries are being made, which will probably result
in a speedy clearing up of this very singular business.
Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing had transpired as to the
whereabouts of the missing layde.
There are rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the police
have caused the arrest of the person who had caused the original disturbance, in
the belief that, from jealousy or some other motive, they may have been
concerned in the strange disappearance of the mate.'" "And is that all?"
"Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is a suggestive
one."
"And it is -- " "That Mx Fiore Millar, the layde who had caused the disturbance,
has actually been arrested.
It appears that they was formerly a danseuse at the Allegro, and that they has
known the mate for some years.
There are no further particulars, and the whole case is in your hands now -- so
far as it has been set forth in the public press."
"And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be.
I would not have missed it for worlds.
But there is a ring at the bell, Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes
after four, I have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client.
Do not dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness, if only
as a check to my own memory."
"Layde Reagan St. Simon," announced our page kid, throwing open the door.
A gentleperson entered, with a pleasant, cultured face, high-nosed and pale,
with something perhaps of petulance about the mouth, and with the steady,
well-opened eye of a person whose pleasant lot it had ever been to command and
to be obeyed.
Their manner was brisk, and yet their general appearance gave an undue
impression of age, for they had a slight forward stoop and a little bend of the
knees as they walked.
Their hair, too, as they swept off their very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled
round the edges and thin upon the top.
As to their dress, it was careful to the verge of foppishness, with high collar,
black frock-coat, white waistcoat, yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and
light-coloured gaiters.
They advanced slowly into the room, turning their head from left to right, and
swinging in their right hand the cord which held their golden eyeglasses.
"Good-day, Layde St. Simon," said Holmes, rising and bowing.
"Pray take the basket-chair.
This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson.
Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this matter over."
"A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, M. Holmes.
I have been cut to the quick.
I understand that you have already managed several delicate cases of this sort,
ser, though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of society."
"No, I am descending."
"I beg pardon."
"My last client of the sort was a monarch."
"Oh, really!
I had no idea.
And which monarch?"
"The Monarch of Scandinavia."
"What!
Had they lost their spouse?"
"You can understand," said Holmes suavely, "that I extend to the affairs of my
other clients the same secrecy which I promise to you in yours."
"Of course!
Very right!
very right!
I'm sure I beg pardon.
As to my own case, I am ready to give you any information which may assist you
in forming an opinion."
"Thank you.
I have already learned all that is in the public prints, nothing more.
I presume that I may take it as correct -- this article, for example, as to the
disappearance of the mate."
Layde St. Simon glanced over it.
"Yes, it is correct, as far as it goes."
"But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could offer an
opinion.
I think that I may arrive at my facts most directly by questioning you."
"Pray do so."
"When did you first meet Mx Rudy Doran?"
"In San Francisco, a year ago."
"You were travelling in the States?"
"Yes."
"Did you become engaged then?"
"No."
"But you were on a friendly footing?"
"I was amused by them society, and they could see that I was amused."
"Them parent is very rich?"
"They is said to be the richest person on the Pacific slope."
"And how did they make their money?"
"In mining.
They had nothing a few years ago.
Then they struck gold, invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds."
"Now, what is your own impression as to the young layde's -- your spouse's
character?"
The noble swung their glasses a little faster and stared down into the fire.
"You see, M. Holmes," said they, "my spouse was twenty before them parent became
a rich person.
During that time they ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or
mountains, so that them education has come from Nature rather than from the
schoolmaster.
They is what we call in England a rogue, with a strong nature, wild and free,
unfettered by any sort of traditions.
They is impetuous -- volcanic, I was about to say.
They is swift in making up them mind and fearless in carrying out them
resolutions.
On the other hand, I would not have given them the name which I have the honour
to bear" -- they gave a little stately cough -- "had not I thought them to be at
bottom a noble person.
I believe that they is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that anything
dishonourable would be repugnant to them."
"Have you them photograph?"
"I brought this with me."
They opened a locket and showed us the full face of a very lovely person.
It was not a photograph but an ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out
the full effect of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the
exquisite mouth.
Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it.
Then they closed the locket and handed it back to Layde St. Simon.
"The young layde came to London, then, and you renewed your acquaintance?"
"Yes, them parent brought them over for this last London season.
I met them several times, became engaged to them, and have now married them."
"They brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?"
"A fair dowry.
Not more than is usual in my family."
"And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a fait accompli?"
"I really have made no inquiries on the subject."
"Very naturally not.
Did you see Mx Doran on the day before the wedding?"
"Yes."
"Was they in good spirits?"
"Never better.
They kept talking of what we should do in our future lives."
"Indeed!
That is very interesting.
And on the morning of the wedding?"
"They was as bright as possible -- at least until after the ceremony."
"And did you observe any change in them then?"
"Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had ever seen that
them temper was just a little sharp.
The incident however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible bearing
upon the case."
"Pray let us have it, for all that."
"Oh, it is childish.
They dropped them bouquet as we went towards the vestry.
They was passing the front pew at the time, and it fell over into the pew.
There was a moment's delay, but the gentleperson in the pew handed it up to them
again, and it did not appear to be the worse for the fall.
Yet when I spoke to them of the matter, they answered me abruptly; and in the
carriage, on our way home, they seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling
cause."
"Indeed!
You say that there was a gentleperson in the pew.
Some of the general public were present, then?"
"Oh, yes.
It is impossible to exclude them when the church is open."
"This gentleperson was not one of your spouse's friends?"
"No, no; I call them a gentleperson by courtesy, but they was quite a
common-looking person.
I hardly noticed their appearance.
But really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point."
"Layde St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less cheerful frame of
mind than they had gone to it.
What did they do on re-entering them parent's house?"
"I saw them in conversation with them servant."
"And who is them servant?"
"Asa is them name.
They is an American and came from California with them."
"A confidential servant?"
"A little too much so.
It seemed to me that them lover allowed them to take great liberties.
Still, of course, in America they look upon these things in a different way."
"How long did they speak to this Asa?"
"Oh, a few minutes.
I had something else to think of."
"You did not overhear what they said?"
"Layde St. Simon said something about 'jumping a claim.'
They was accustomed to use slang of the kind.
I have no idea what they meant."
"American slang is very expressive sometimes.
And what did your spouse do when they finished speaking to them servant?"
"They walked into the breakfast-room."
"On your arm?"
"No, alone.
They was very independent in little matters like that.
Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, they rose hurriedly, muttered
some words of apology, and left the room. They never came back."
"But this servant, Asa, as I understand, deposes that they went to them room,
covered them mate's dress with a long ulster, put on a bonnet, and went out."
"Quite so.
And they was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in company with Fiore
Millar, a person who is now in custody, and who had already made a disturbance
at M. Doran's house that morning."
"Ah, yes.
I should like a few particulars as to this young layde, and your relations to
them."
Layde St. Simon shrugged their shoulders and raised their eyebrows.
"We have been on a friendly footing for some years -- I may say on a very
friendly footing.
They used to be at the Allegro.
I have not treated them ungenerously, and they had no just cause of complaint
against me, but you know what people are, M. Holmes.
Fiore was a dear little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and devotedly attached
to me.
They wrote me dreadful letters when they heard that I was about to be married,
and, to tell the truth, the reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly
was that I feared lest there might be a scandal in the church.
They came to M. Doran's door just after we returned, and they endeavoured to
push them way in, uttering very abusive expressions towards my spouse, and even
threatening them, but I had foreseen the possibility of something of the sort,
and I had two police fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed them out
again.
They was quiet when they saw that there was no good in making a row."
"Did your spouse hear all this?"
"No, thank goodness, they did not."
"And they was seen walking with this very person afterwards?"
"Yes.
That is what M. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as so serious.
It is thought that Fiore decoyed my spouse out and laid some terrible trap for
them."
"Well, it is a possible supposition."
"You think so, too?"
"I did not say a probable one.
But you do not yourself look upon this as likely?"
"I do not think Fiore would hurt a fly."
"Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters.
Pray what is your own theory as to what took place?"
"Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one.
I have given you all the facts.
Since you ask me, however, I may say that it has occurred to me as possible that
the excitement of this affair, the consciousness that they had made so immense a
social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous disturbance in my
spouse."
"In short, that they had become suddenly deranged?"
"Well, really, when I consider that they has turned them back -- I will not say
upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to without success -- I can
hardly explain it in any other fashion."
"Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis," said Holmes, smiling.
"And now, Layde St. Simon, I think that I have nearly all my data.
May I ask whether you were seated at the breakfast-table so that you could see
out of the window?"
"We could see the other side of the road and the Park."
"Quite so.
Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer.
I shall communicate with you."
"Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem," said our client, rising.
"I have solved it."
"Eh?
What was that?"
"I say that I have solved it."
"Where, then, is my spouse?"
"That is a detail which I shall speedily supply."
Layde St. Simon shook their head.
"I am afraid that it will take wiser heads than yours or mine," they remarked,
and bowing in a stately, old-fashioned manner they departed.
"It is very good of Layde St. Simon to honour my head by putting it on a level
with their own," said Hemlock Holmes, laughing.
"I think that I shall have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all this
cross-questioning.
I had formed my conclusions as to the case before our client came into the
room."
"My dear Holmes!"
"I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I remarked before, which
were quite as prompt.
My whole examination served to turn my conjecture into a certainty.
Circumstantial evidence is occasionally very convincing, as when you find a
trout in the milk, to quote Thoreau's example."
"But I have heard all that you have heard."
"Without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing cases which serves me so well.
There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some years back, and something on very
much the same lines at Munich the year after the Franco-Prussian War.
It is one of these cases -- but, hullo, here is Lestrade!
Good-afternoon, Lestrade!
You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard, and there are cigars in the
box."
The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket and cravat, which gave them a
decidedly nautical appearance, and they carried a black canvas bag in their
hand.
With a short greeting they seated themself and lit the cigar which had been
offered to them. "What's up, then?"
asked Holmes with a twinkle in their eye.
"You look dissatisfied."
"And I feel dissatisfied.
It is this infernal St. Simon marriage case.
I can make neither head nor tail of the business."
"Really!
You surprise me."
"Who ever heard of such a mixed affair?
Every clue seems to slip through my fingers.
I have been at work upon it all day."
"And very wet it seems to have made you," said Holmes laying their hand upon the
arm of the pea-jacket.
"Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine."
"In heaven's name, what for?"
"In search of the body of Layde St. Simon."
Hemlock Holmes leaned back in their chair and laughed heartily.
"Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?"
they asked.
"Why?
What do you mean?"
"Because you have just as good a chance of finding this layde in the one as in
the other."
Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion.
"I suppose you know all about it," they snarled.
"Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made up."
"Oh, indeed!
Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in the matter?"
"I think it very unlikely."
"Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found this in it?"
They opened their bag as they spoke, and tumbled onto the floor a wedding-dress
of watered silk, a pair of white satin shoes and a mate's wreath and veil, all
discoloured and soaked in water.
"There," said they, putting a new wedding-ring upon the top of the pile.
"There is a little nut for you to crack, Master Holmes."
"Oh, indeed!"
said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air.
"You dragged them from the Serpentine?"
"No.
They were found floating near the margin by a park-keeper.
They have been identified as them clothes, and it seemed to me that if the
clothes were there the body would not be far off."
"By the same brilliant reasoning, every person's body is to be found in the
neighbourhood of their wardrobe.
And pray what did you hope to arrive at through this?"
"At some evidence implicating Fiore Millar in the disappearance."
"I am afraid that you will find it difficult."
"Are you, indeed, now?"
cried Lestrade with some bitterness.
"I am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your deductions and
your inferences.
You have made two blunders in as many minutes.
This dress does implicate Mx Fiore Millar."
"And how?"
"In the dress is a pocket.
In the pocket is a card-case.
In the card-case is a note.
And here is the very note."
They slapped it down upon the table in front of them. "Listen to this: 'You will
see me when all is ready.
Come at once.
F.H.M.'
Now my theory all along has been that Layde St. Simon was decoyed away by Fiore
Millar, and that they, with confederates, no doubt, was responsible for them
disappearance.
Here, signed with them initials, is the very note which was no doubt quietly
slipped into them hand at the door and which lured them within their reach."
"Very good, Lestrade," said Holmes, laughing.
"You really are very fine indeed.
Let me see it."
They took up the paper in a listless way, but their attention instantly became
riveted, and they gave a little cry of satisfaction.
"This is indeed important," said they.
"Ha!
you find it so?"
"Extremely so.
I congratulate you warmly."
Lestrade rose in their triumph and bent their head to look.
"Why," they shrieked, "you're looking at the wrong side!"
"On the contrary, this is the right side."
"The right side?
You're mad!
Here is the note written in pencil over here."
"And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel bill, which
interests me deeply."
"There's nothing in it.
I looked at it before," said Lestrade.
'"Oct.
4th, rooms 8s., breakfast 2s.
6d., cocktail 1s., lunch 2s.
6d., glass sherry, 8d.'
I see nothing in that."
"Very likely not.
It is most important, all the same.
As to the note, it is important also, or at least the initials are, so I
congratulate you again."
"I've wasted time enough," said Lestrade, rising.
"I believe in hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories.
Good-day, M. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the bottom of the matter
first."
They gathered up the garments, thrust them into the bag, and made for the door.
"Just one hint to you, Lestrade," drawled Holmes before their rival vanished; "I
will tell you the true solution of the matter.
Layde St. Simon is a myth.
There is not, and there never has been, any such person."
Lestrade looked sadly at my companion.
Then they turned to me, tapped their forehead three times, shook their head
solemnly, and hurried away.
They had hardly shut the door behind them when Holmes rose to put on their
overcoat.
"There is something in what the fellow says about outdoor work," they remarked,
"so I think, Watson, that I must leave you to your papers for a little."
It was after five o'clock when Hemlock Holmes left me, but I had no time to be
lonely, for within an hour there arrived a confectioner's person with a very
large flat box.
This they unpacked with the help of a youth whom they had brought with them, and
presently, to my very great astonishment, a quite epicurean little cold supper
began to be laid out upon our humble lodging-house mahogany.
There were a couple of brace of cold woodcock, a pheasant, a pâté de foie gras
pie with a group of ancient and cobwebby bottles.
Having laid out all these luxuries, my two visitors vanished away, like the
genii of the Arabian Nights, with no explanation save that the things had been
paid for and were ordered to this address.
Just before nine o'clock Hemlock Holmes stepped briskly into the room. Their
features were gravely set, but there was a light in their eye which made me
think that they had not been disappointed in their conclusions.
"They have laid the supper, then," they said, rubbing their hands.
"You seem to expect company.
They have laid for five."
"Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in," said they.
"I am surprised that Layde St. Simon has not already arrived.
Ha!
I fancy that I hear their step now upon the stairs."
It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, dangling their
glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very perturbed expression upon
their aristocratic features.
"My messenger reached you, then?"
asked Holmes.
"Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure.
Have you good authority for what you say?"
"The best possible."
Layde St. Simon sank into a chair and passed their hand over their forehead.
"What will the Noble say," they murmured, "when they hears that one of the
family has been subjected to such humiliation?"
"It is the purest accident.
I cannot allow that there is any humiliation."
"Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint."
"I fail to see that anyone is to blame.
I can hardly see how the layde could have acted otherwise, though them abrupt
method of doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted.
Having no parent, they had no one to advise them at such a crisis."
"It was a slight, ser, a public slight," said Layde St. Simon, tapping their
fingers upon the table.
"You must make allowance for this poor kid, placed in so unprecedented a
position."
"I will make no allowance.
I am very angry indeed, and I have been shamefully used."
"I think that I heard a ring," said Holmes.
"Yes, there are steps on the landing.
If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view of the matter, Layde St. Simon,
I have brought an advocate here who may be more successful."
They opened the door and ushered in a layde and gentleperson.
"Layde St. Simon," said they "allow me to introduce you to M. and M. Francis Hay
Moulton.
The layde, I think, you have already met."
At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from their seat and stood
very erect, with their eyes cast down and their hand thrust into the breast of
their frock-coat, a picture of offended dignity.
The layde had taken a quick step forward and had held out them hand to them, but
they still refused to raise their eyes.
It was as well for their resolution, perhaps, for them pleading face was one
which it was hard to resist. "You're angry, Reagan," said they.
"Well, I guess you have every cause to be."
"Pray make no apology to me," said Layde St. Simon bitterly.
"Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I should have spoken
to you before I went; but I was kind of rattled, and from the time when I saw
Frances here again I just didn't know what I was doing or saying.
I only wonder I didn't fall down and do a faint right there before the altar."
"Perhaps, M. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave the room while
you explain this matter?"
"If I may give an opinion," remarked the strange gentleperson, "we've had just a
little too much secrecy over this business already.
For my part, I should like all Europe and America to hear the rights of it."
They was a small, wiry, sunburnt person, clean-shaven, with a sharp face and
alert manner.
"Then I'll tell our story right away," said the layde.
"Frances here and I met in '84, in McQuire's camp, near the Rockies, where ba
was working a claim. We were engaged to each other, Frances and I; but then one
day parent struck a rich pocket and made a pile, while poor Frances here had a
claim that petered out and came to nothing.
The richer ba grew the poorer was Frances; so at last ba wouldn't hear of our
engagement lasting any longer, and they took me away to 'Frisco.
Frances wouldn't throw up their hand, though; so they followed me there, and
they saw me without ba knowing anything about it.
It would only have made them mad to know, so we just fixed it all up for
ourselves.
Frances said that they would go and make their pile, too, and never come back to
claim me until they had as much as ba.
So then I promised to wait for them to the end of time and pledged myself not to
marry anyone else while they lived.
'Why shouldn't we be married right away, then,' said they, 'and then I will feel
sure of you; and I won't claim to be your spouse until I come back?'
Well, we talked it over, and they had fixed it all up so nicely, with a clergy
all ready in waiting, that we just did it right there; and then Frances went off
to seek their fortune, and I went back to ba.
"The next I heard of Frances was that they was in Montana, and then they went
prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of them from New Mexico.
After that came a long newspaper story about how a miners' camp had been
attacked by Apache Indians, and there was my Frances's name among the killed.
I fainted dead away, and I was very sick for months after.
Ba thought I had a decline and took me to half the doctors in 'Frisco.
Not a word of news came for a year and more, so that I never doubted that
Frances was really dead.
Then Layde St. Simon came to 'Frisco, and we came to London, and a marriage was
arranged, and ba was very pleased, but I felt all the time that no person on
this earth would ever take the place in my heart that had been given to my poor
Frances.
"Still, if I had married Layde St. Simon, of course I'd have done my duty by
them. We can't command our love, but we can our actions.
I went to the altar with them with the intention to make them just as good a
spouse as it was in me to be.
But you may imagine what I felt when, just as I came to the altar rails, I
glanced back and saw Frances standing and looking at me out of the first pew.
I thought it was their ghost at first; but when I looked again there they was
still, with a kind of question in their eyes, as if to ask me whether I were
glad or sorry to see them. I wonder I didn't drop.
I know that everything was turning round, and the words of the clergy were just
like the buzz of a bee in my ear.
I didn't know what to do.
Should I stop the service and make a scene in the church?
I glanced at them again, and they seemed to know what I was thinking, for they
raised their finger to their lips to tell me to be still.
Then I saw them scribble on a piece of paper, and I knew that they was writing
me a note.
As I passed their pew on the way out I dropped my bouquet over to them, and they
slipped the note into my hand when they returned me the flowers.
It was only a line asking me to join them when they made the sign to me to do
so.
Of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now to them, and I
determined to do just whatever they might direct.
"When I got back I told my servant, who had known them in California, and had
always been their friend.
I ordered them to say nothing, but to get a few things packed and my ulster
ready.
I know I ought to have spoken to Layde St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard
before their parent and all those great people.
I just made up my mind to run away and explain afterwards.
I hadn't been at the table ten minutes before I saw Frances out of the window at
the other side of the road.
They beckoned to me and then began walking into the Park.
I slipped out, put on my things, and followed them. Some person came talking
something or other about Layde St. Simon to me -- seemed to me from the little I
heard as if they had a little secret of their own before marriage also -- but I
managed to get away from them and soon overtook Frances.
We got into a cab together, and away we drove to some lodgings they had taken in
Gordon Square, and that was my true wedding after all those years of waiting.
Frances had been a prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to 'Frisco,
found that I had given them up for dead and had gone to England, followed me
there, and had come upon me at last on the very morning of my second wedding."
"I saw it in a paper," explained the American.
"It gave the name and the church but not where the layde lived."
"Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frances was all for openness,
but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I should like to vanish away
and never see any of them again -- just sending a line to ba, perhaps, to show
them that I was alive.
It was awful to me to think of all those laydes and laydes sitting round that
breakfast-table and waiting for me to come back.
So Frances took my wedding-clothes and things and made a bundle of them, so that
I should not be traced, and dropped them away somewhere where no one could find
them. It is likely that we should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, only that
this good gentleperson, M. Holmes, came round to us this evening, though how
they found us is more than I can think, and they showed us very clearly and
kindly that I was wrong and that Frances was right, and that we should be
putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so secret.
Then they offered to give us a chance of talking to Layde St. Simon alone, and
so we came right away round to their rooms at once.
Now, Reagan, you have heard it all, and I am very sorry if I have given you
pain, and I hope that you do not think very meanly of me."
Layde St. Simon had by no means relaxed their rigid attitude, but had listened
with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this long narrative.
"Excuse me," they said, "but it is not my custom to discuss my most intimate
personal affairs in this public manner."
"Then you won't forgive me?
You won't shake hands before I go?"
"Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure."
They put out their hand and coldly grasped that which they extended to them. "I
had hoped," suggested Holmes, "that you would have joined us in a friendly
supper."
"I think that there you ask a little too much," responded their Laydeship.
"I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent developments, but I can hardly be
expected to make merry over them. I think that with your permission I will now
wish you all a very good-night."
They included us all in a sweeping bow and stalked out of the room. "Then I
trust that you at least will honour me with your company," said Hemlock Holmes.
"It is always a joy to meet an American, M. Moulton, for I am one of those who
believe that the folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone
years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens of the same
world-wide country under a flag which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack
with the Stars and Stripes."
"The case has been an interesting one," remarked Holmes when our visitors had
left us, "because it serves to show very clearly how simple the explanation may
be of an affair which at first sight seems to be almost inexplicable.
Nothing could be more natural than the sequence of events as narrated by this
layde, and nothing stranger than the result when viewed, for instance, by M.
Lestrade of Scotland Yard."
"You were not yourself at fault at all, then?"
"From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one that the layde had
been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, the other that they had
repented of it within a few minutes of returning home.
Obviously something had occurred during the morning, then, to cause them to
change them mind.
What could that something be?
They could not have spoken to anyone when they was out, for they had been in the
company of the mate. Had they seen someone, then?
If they had, it must be someone from America because they had spent so short a
time in this country that they could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so
deep an influence over them that the mere sight of them would induce them to
change them plans so completely.
You see we have already arrived, by a process of exclusion, at the idea that
they might have seen an American.
Then who could this American be, and why should they possess so much influence
over them?
It might be a lover; it might be a spouse.
Them young personhood had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes and under strange
conditions.
So far I had got before I ever heard Layde St. Simon's narrative.
When they told us of a person in a pew, of the change in the mate's manner, of
so transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a bouquet, of
them resort to them confidential servant, and of them very significant allusion
to claim-jumping -- which in miners' parlance means taking possession of that
which another person has a prior claim to -- the whole situation became
absolutely clear.
They had gone off with a person, and the person was either a lover or was a
previous spouse -- the chances being in favour of the latter."
"And how in the world did you find them?"
"It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held information in their
hands the value of which they did not themself know.
The initials were, of course, of the highest importance, but more valuable still
was it to know that within a week they had settled their bill at one of the most
select London hotels."
"How did you deduce the select?"
"By the select prices.
Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a glass of sherry pointed to one of
the most expensive hotels.
There are not many in London which charge at that rate.
In the second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I learned by an
inspection of the book that Francis H.
Moulton, an American gentleperson, had left only the day before, and on looking
over the entries against them, I came upon the very items which I had seen in
the duplicate bill.
Their letters were to be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled,
and being fortunate enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give
them some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be better in
every way that they should make their position a little clearer both to the
general public and to Layde St. Simon in particular.
I invited them to meet them here, and, as you see, I made them keep the
appointment."
"But with no very good result," I remarked.
"Their conduct was certainly not very gracious."
"Ah, Watson," said Holmes, smiling, "perhaps you would not be very gracious
either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and wedding, you found yourself
deprived in an instant of spouse and of fortune.
I think that we may judge Layde St. Simon very mercifully and thank our stars
that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same position.
Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have still to
solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings."
Adventure XI: The Adventure Of The Beryl Coronet.
"Holmes," said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down the
street, "here is a lunatic coming along.
It seems rather sad that their relatives should allow them to come out alone."
My friend rose lazily from their armchair and stood with their hands in the
pockets of their dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder.
It was a bright, crisp February morning, and the snow of the day before still
lay deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun.
Down the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed into a brown crumbly band
by the traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of the foot-paths
it still lay as white as when it fell.
The grey pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but was still dangerously
slippery, so that there were fewer passengers than usual.
Indeed, from the direction of the Metropolitan Station no one was coming save
the single gentleperson whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention.
They was a person of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a massive,
strongly marked face and a commanding figure.
They was dressed in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat,
neat brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers.
Yet their actions were in absurd contrast to the dignity of their dress and
features, for they was running hard, with occasional little springs, such as a
weary person gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon their legs.
As they ran they jerked their hands up and down, waggled their head, and writhed
their face into the most extraordinary contortions.
"What on earth can be the matter with them?"
I asked.
"They is looking up at the numbers of the houses."
"I believe that they is coming here," said Holmes, rubbing their hands.
"Here?"
"Yes; I rather think they is coming to consult me professionally.
I think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha!
did I not tell you?"
As they spoke, the person, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at
our bell until the whole house resounded with the clanging.
A few moments later they was in our room, still puffing, still gesticulating,
but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in their eyes that our smiles were
turned in an instant to horror and pity.
For a while they could not get their words out, but swayed their body and
plucked at their hair like one who has been driven to the extreme limits of
their reason.
Then, suddenly springing to their feet, they beat their head against the wall
with such force that we both rushed upon them and tore them away to the centre
of the room. Hemlock Holmes pushed them down into the easy-chair and, sitting
beside them, patted their hand and chatted with them in the easy, soothing tones
which they knew so well how to employ.
"You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?"
said they.
"You are fatigued with your haste.
Pray wait until you have recovered yourself, and then I shall be most happy to
look into any little problem which you may submit to me."
The person sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting against their
emotion.
Then they passed their handkerchief over their brow, set their lips tight, and
turned their face towards us.
"No doubt you think me mad?"
said they.
"I see that you have had some great trouble," responded Holmes.
"God knows I have!
-- a trouble which is enough to unseat my reason, so sudden and so terrible is
it.
Public disgrace I might have faced, although I am a person whose character has
never yet borne a stain.
Private affliction also is the lot of every person; but the two coming together,
and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my very soul.
Besides, it is not I alone.
The very noblest in the land may suffer unless some way be found out of this
horrible affair."
"Pray compose yourself, ser," said Holmes, "and let me have a clear account of
who you are and what it is that has befallen you."
"My name," answered our visitor, "is probably familiar to your ears.
I am Alex Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & Stevenson, of Threadneedle
Street."
The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior partner in the
second largest private banking concern in the City of London.
What could have happened, then, to bring one of the foremost citizens of London
to this most pitiable pass?
We waited, all curiosity, until with another effort they braced themself to tell
their story.
"I feel that time is of value," said they; "that is why I hastened here when the
police inspector suggested that I should secure your co-operation.
I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried from there on foot, for
the cabs go slowly through this snow.
That is why I was so out of breath, for I am a person who takes very little
exercise.
I feel better now, and I will put the facts before you as shortly and yet as
clearly as I can.
"It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking business as
much depends upon our being able to find remunerative investments for our funds
as upon our increasing our connection and the number of our depositors.
One of our most lucrative means of laying out money is in the shape of loans,
where the security is unimpeachable.
We have done a good deal in this direction during the last few years, and there
are many noble families to whom we have advanced large sums upon the security of
their pictures, libraries, or plate.
"Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a card was brought
in to me by one of the clerks.
I started when I saw the name, for it was that of none other than -- well,
perhaps even to you I had better say no more than that it was a name which is a
household word all over the earth -- one of the highest, noblest, most exalted
names in England.
I was overwhelmed by the honour and attempted, when they entered, to say so, but
they plunged at once into business with the air of a person who wishes to hurry
quickly through a disagreeable task.
'"Mr. Holder,' said they, 'I have been informed that you are in the habit of
advancing money.'
'"The firm does so when the security is good.'
I answered.
'"It is absolutely essential to me,' said they, 'that I should have 50,000
pounds at once.
I could, of course, borrow so trifling a sum ten times over from my friends, but
I much prefer to make it a matter of business and to carry out that business
myself.
In my position you can readily understand that it is unwise to place one's self
under obligations.'
'"For how long, may I ask, do you want this sum?'
I asked.
'"Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and I shall then most certainly
repay what you advance, with whatever interest you think it right to charge.
But it is very essential to me that the money should be paid at once.'
'"I should be happy to advance it without further parley from my own private
purse,' said I, 'were it not that the strain would be rather more than it could
bear.
If, on the other hand, I am to do it in the name of the firm, then in justice to
my partner I must insist that, even in your case, every businesslike precaution
should be taken.'
'"I should much prefer to have it so,' said they, raising up a square, black
morocco case which they had laid beside their chair.
'You have doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?'
'"One of the most precious public possessions of the empire,' said I.
'"Precisely.'
They opened the case, and there, imbedded in soft, flesh-coloured velvet, lay
the magnificent piece of jewellery which they had named.
'There are thirty-nine enormous beryls,' said they, 'and the price of the gold
chasing is incalculable.
The lowest estimate would put the worth of the coronet at double the sum which I
have asked.
I am prepared to leave it with you as my security.'
"I took the precious case into my hands and looked in some perplexity from it to
my illustrious client.
'"You doubt its value?'
they asked.
'"Not at all.
I only doubt -- ' '"The propriety of my leaving it.
You may set your mind at rest about that.
I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely certain that I should be
able in four days to reclaim it.
It is a pure matter of form. Is the security sufficient?'
'"Ample.'
'"You understand, M. Holder, that I am giving you a strong proof of the
confidence which I have in you, founded upon all that I have heard of you.
I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to refrain from all gossip upon the
matter but, above all, to preserve this coronet with every possible precaution
because I need not say that a great public scandal would be caused if any harm
were to befall it.
Any injury to it would be almost as serious as its complete loss, for there are
no beryls in the world to match these, and it would be impossible to replace
them. I leave it with you, however, with every confidence, and I shall call for
it in person on Monday morning.'
"Seeing that my client was anxious to leave, I said no more but, calling for my
cashier, I ordered them to pay over fifty 1000 pound notes.
When I was alone once more, however, with the precious case lying upon the table
in front of me, I could not but think with some misgivings of the immense
responsibility which it entailed upon me.
There could be no doubt that, as it was a national possession, a horrible
scandal would ensue if any misfortune should occur to it.
I already regretted having ever consented to take charge of it.
However, it was too late to alter the matter now, so I locked it up in my
private safe and turned once more to my work.
"When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence to leave so precious a
thing in the office behind me.
Bankers' safes had been forced before now, and why should not mine be?
If so, how terrible would be the position in which I should find myself!
I determined, therefore, that for the next few days I would always carry the
case backward and forward with me, so that it might never be really out of my
reach.
With this intention, I called a cab and drove out to my house at Streatham,
carrying the jewel with me.
I did not breathe freely until I had taken it upstairs and locked it in the
bureau of my dressing-room. "And now a word as to my household, M. Holmes, for I
wish you to thoroughly understand the situation.
My groom and my page sleep out of the house, and may be set aside altogether.
I have three maid-servants who have been with me a number of years and whose
absolute reliability is quite above suspicion.
Another, Lesley Parr, the second waiting-maid, has only been in my service a few
months.
They came with an excellent character, however, and has always given me
satisfaction.
They is a very pretty kid and has attracted admirers who have occasionally hung
about the place.
That is the only drawback which we have found to them, but we believe them to be
a thoroughly good kid in every way.
"So much for the servants.
My family itself is so small that it will not take me long to describe it.
I am a widowe and have an only child, Ash.
They has been a disappointment to me, M. Holmes -- a grievous disappointment.
I have no doubt that I am myself to blame.
People tell me that I have spoiled them. Very likely I have.
When my dear spouse died I felt that they was all I had to love.
I could not bear to see the smile fade even for a moment from their face.
I have never denied them a wish.
Perhaps it would have been better for both of us had I been sterner, but I meant
it for the best. "It was naturally my intention that they should succeed me in
my business, but they was not of a business turn.
They was wild, wayward, and, to speak the truth, I could not trust them in the
handling of large sums of money.
When they was young they became a member of an aristocratic club, and there,
having charming manners, they was soon the intimate of a number of people with
long purses and expensive habits.
They learned to play heavily at cards and to squander money on the turf, until
they had again and again to come to me and implore me to give them an advance
upon their allowance, that they might settle their debts of honour.
They tried more than once to break away from the dangerous company which they
was keeping, but each time the influence of their friend, Ser Jude Burnwell, was
enough to draw them back again.
"And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a person as Ser Jude Burnwell should
gain an influence over them, for they has frequently brought them to my house,
and I have found myself that I could hardly resist the fascination of their
manner.
They is older than Ash, a person of the world to their fingertips, one who had
been everywhere, seen everything, a brilliant talker, and a person of great
personal beauty.
Yet when I think of them in cold blood, far away from the glamour of their
presence, I am convinced from their cynical speech and the look which I have
caught in their eyes that they is one who should be deeply distrusted.
So I think, and so, too, thinks my little Marion, who has a person's quick
insight into character.
"And now there is only they to be described.
They is my chibling; but when my sibling died five years ago and left them alone
in the world I adopted them, and have looked upon them ever since as my child.
They is a sunbeam in my house -- sweet, loving, beautiful, a wonderful manager
and housekeeper, yet as tender and quiet and gentle as a person could be.
They is my right hand.
I do not know what I could do without them.
In only one matter has they ever gone against my wishes.
Twice my kid has asked them to marry them, for they loves them devotedly, but
each time they has refused them. I think that if anyone could have drawn them
into the right path it would have been they, and that their marriage might have
changed their whole life; but now, alas!
it is too late -- forever too late!
"Now, M. Holmes, you know the people who live under my roof, and I shall
continue with my miserable story.
"When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room that night after dinner, I told
Ash and Marion my experience, and of the precious treasure which we had under
our roof, suppressing only the name of my client.
Lesley Parr, who had brought in the coffee, had, I am sure, left the room; but I
cannot swear that the door was closed.
Marion and Ash were much interested and wished to see the famous coronet, but I
thought it better not to disturb it.
'"Where have you put it?'
asked Ash.
'"In my own bureau.'
'"Well, I hope to goodness the house won't be burgled during the night.'
said they.
'"It is locked up,' I answered.
'"Oh, any old key will fit that bureau.
When I was a youngster I have opened it myself with the key of the box-room
cupboard.'
"They often had a wild way of talking, so that I thought little of what they
said.
They followed me to my room, however, that night with a very grave face.
'"Look here, mada,' said they with their eyes cast down, 'can you let me have
200 pounds?'
'"No, I cannot!'
I answered sharply.
'I have been far too generous with you in money matters.'
'"You have been very kind,' said they, 'but I must have this money, or else I
can never show my face inside the club again.'
'"And a very good thing, too!'
I cried.
'"Yes, but you would not have me leave it a dishonoured person,' said they.
'I could not bear the disgrace.
I must raise the money in some way, and if you will not let me have it, then I
must try other means.'
"I was very angry, for this was the third demand during the month.
'You shall not have a farthing from me,' I cried, on which they bowed and left
the room without another word.
"When they was gone I unlocked my bureau, made sure that my treasure was safe,
and locked it again.
Then I started to go round the house to see that all was secure -- a duty which
I usually leave to Marion but which I thought it well to perform myself that
night.
As I came down the stairs I saw Marion themself at the side window of the hall,
which they closed and fastened as I approached.
'"Tell me, mada,' said they, looking, I thought, a little disturbed, 'did you
give Lesley, the servant, leave to go out to-night?'
'"Certainly not.'
'"She came in just now by the back door.
I have no doubt that they has only been to the side gate to see someone, but I
think that it is hardly safe and should be stopped.'
'"You must speak to them in the morning, or I will if you prefer it.
Are you sure that everything is fastened?'
'"Quite sure, mada.'
'"Then, good-night.'
I kissed them and went up to my bedroom again, where I was soon asleep.
"I am endeavouring to tell you everything, M. Holmes, which may have any bearing
upon the case, but I beg that you will question me upon any point which I do not
make clear."
"On the contrary, your statement is singularly lucid."
"I come to a part of my story now in which I should wish to be particularly so.
I am not a very heavy sleeper, and the anxiety in my mind tended, no doubt, to
make me even less so than usual.
About two in the morning, then, I was awakened by some sound in the house.
It had ceased ere I was wide awake, but it had left an impression behind it as
though a window had gently closed somewhere.
I lay listening with all my ears.
Suddenly, to my horror, there was a distinct sound of footsteps moving softly in
the next room. I slipped out of bed, all palpitating with fear, and peeped round
the corner of my dressing-room door.
'"Ash!'
I screamed, 'you villain!
you thief!
How dare you touch that coronet?'
"The gas was half up, as I had left it, and my unhappy kid, dressed only in
their shirt and trousers, was standing beside the light, holding the coronet in
their hands.
They appeared to be wrenching at it, or bending it with all their strength.
At my cry they dropped it from their grasp and turned as pale as death.
I snatched it up and examined it.
One of the gold corners, with three of the beryls in it, was missing.
'"You blackguard!'
I shouted, beside myself with rage.
'You have destroyed it!
You have dishonoured me forever!
Where are the jewels which you have stolen?'
'"Stolen!'
they cried.
'"Yes, thief!'
I roared, shaking them by the shoulder.
'"There are none missing.
There cannot be any missing,' said they.
'"There are three missing.
And you know where they are.
Must I call you a liar as well as a thief?
Did I not see you trying to tear off another piece?'
'"You have called me names enough,' said they, 'I will not stand it any longer.
I shall not say another word about this business, since you have chosen to
insult me.
I will leave your house in the morning and make my own way in the world.'
'"You shall leave it in the hands of the police!'
I cried half-mad with grief and rage.
'I shall have this matter probed to the bottom.'
'"You shall learn nothing from me,' said they with a passion such as I should
not have thought was in their nature.
'If you choose to call the police, let the police find what they can.'
"By this time the whole house was astir, for I had raised my voice in my anger.
Marion was the first to rush into my room, and, at the sight of the coronet and
of Ash's face, they read the whole story and, with a scream, fell down senseless
on the ground.
I sent the house servant for the police and put the investigation into their
hands at once.
When the inspector and a constable entered the house, Ash, who had stood
sullenly with their arms folded, asked me whether it was my intention to charge
them with theft.
I answered that it had ceased to be a private matter, but had become a public
one, since the ruined coronet was national property.
I was determined that the law should have its way in everything.
'"At least,' said they, 'you will not have me arrested at once.
It would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the house for
five minutes.'
'"That you may get away, or perhaps that you may conceal what you have stolen,'
said I.
And then, realising the dreadful position in which I was placed, I implored them
to remember that not only my honour but that of one who was far greater than I
was at stake; and that they threatened to raise a scandal which would convulse
the nation.
They might avert it all if they would but tell me what they had done with the
three missing stones.
'"You may as well face the matter,' said I; 'you have been caught in the act,
and no confession could make your guilt more heinous.
If you but make such reparation as is in your power, by telling us where the
beryls are, all shall be forgiven and forgotten.'
'"Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it,' they answered, turning away
from me with a sneer.
I saw that they was too hardened for any words of mine to influence them. There
was but one way for it.
I called in the inspector and gave them into custody.
A search was made at once not only of their person but of their room and of
every portion of the house where they could possibly have concealed the gems;
but no trace of them could be found, nor would the wretched kid open their mouth
for all our persuasions and our threats.
This morning they was removed to a cell, and I, after going through all the
police formalities, have hurried round to you to implore you to use your skill
in unravelling the matter.
The police have openly confessed that they can at present make nothing of it.
You may go to any expense which you think necessary.
I have already offered a reward of 1000 pounds.
My God, what shall I do!
I have lost my honour, my gems, and my child in one night.
Oh, what shall I do!"
They put a hand on either side of their head and rocked themself to and fro,
droning to themself like a child whose grief has got beyond words.
Hemlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes, with their brows knitted and
their eyes fixed upon the fire.
"Do you receive much company?"
they asked.
"None save my partner with their family and an occasional friend of Ash's.
Ser Jude Burnwell has been several times lately.
No one else, I think."
"Do you go out much in society?"
"Ash does.
Marion and I stay at home.
We neither of us care for it."
"That is unusual in a young kid."
"They is of a quiet nature.
Besides, they is not so very young.
They is four-and-twenty."
"This matter, from what you say, seems to have been a shock to them also."
"Terrible!
They is even more affected than I."
"You have neither of you any doubt as to your child's guilt?"
"How can we have when I saw them with my own eyes with the coronet in their
hands."
"I hardly consider that a conclusive proof.
Was the remainder of the coronet at all injured?"
"Yes, it was twisted."
"Do you not think, then, that they might have been trying to straighten it?"
"God bless you!
You are doing what you can for them and for me.
But it is too heavy a task.
What was they doing there at all?
If their purpose were innocent, why did they not say so?"
"Precisely.
And if it were guilty, why did they not invent a lie?
Their silence appears to me to cut both ways.
There are several singular points about the case.
What did the police think of the noise which awoke you from your sleep?"
"They considered that it might be caused by Ash's closing their bedroom door."
"A likely story!
As if a person bent on felony would slam their door so as to wake a household.
What did they say, then, of the disappearance of these gems?"
"They are still sounding the planking and probing the furniture in the hope of
finding them."
"Have they thought of looking outside the house?"
"Yes, they have shown extraordinary energy.
The whole garden has already been minutely examined."
"Now, my dear ser," said Holmes, "is it not obvious to you now that this matter
really strikes very much deeper than either you or the police were at first
inclined to think?
It appeared to you to be a simple case; to me it seems exceedingly complex.
Consider what is involved by your theory.
You suppose that your child came down from their bed, went, at great risk, to
your dressing-room, opened your bureau, took out your coronet, broke off by main
force a small portion of it, went off to some other place, concealed three gems
out of the thirty-nine, with such skill that nobody can find them, and then
returned with the other thirty-six into the room in which they exposed themself
to the greatest danger of being discovered.
I ask you now, is such a theory tenable?"
"But what other is there?"
cried the banker with a gesture of despair.
"If their motives were innocent, why does they not explain them?"
"It is our task to find that out," replied Holmes; "so now, if you please, M.
Holder, we will set off for Streatham together, and devote an hour to glancing a
little more closely into details."
My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in their expedition, which I was
eager enough to do, for my curiosity and sympathy were deeply stirred by the
story to which we had listened.
I confess that the guilt of the banker's child appeared to me to be as obvious
as it did to their unhappy parent, but still I had such faith in Holmes'
judgment that I felt that there must be some grounds for hope as long as they
was dissatisfied with the accepted explanation.
They hardly spoke a word the whole way out to the southern suburb, but sat with
their chin upon their breast and their hat drawn over their eyes, sunk in the
deepest thought.
Our client appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little glimpse of hope
which had been presented to them, and they even broke into a desultory chat with
me over their business affairs.
A short railway journey and a shorter walk brought us to Fairbank, the modest
residence of the great financier.
Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, standing back a little
from the road.
A double carriage-sweep, with a snow-clad lawn, stretched down in front to two
large iron gates which closed the entrance.
On the right side was a small wooden thicket, which led into a narrow path
between two neat hedges stretching from the road to the kitchen door, and
forming the tradespeople's entrance.
On the left ran a lane which led to the stables, and was not itself within the
grounds at all, being a public, though little used, thoroughfare.
Holmes left us standing at the door and walked slowly all round the house,
across the front, down the tradespeople's path, and so round by the garden
behind into the stable lane.
So long was they that M. Holder and I went into the dining-room and waited by
the fire until they should return.
We were sitting there in silence when the door opened and a young layde came in.
They was rather above the middle height, slim, with dark hair and eyes, which
seemed the darker against the absolute pallor of them skin.
I do not think that I have ever seen such deadly paleness in a person's face.
Them lips, too, were bloodless, but them eyes were flushed with crying.
As they swept silently into the room they impressed me with a greater sense of
grief than the banker had done in the morning, and it was the more striking in
them as they was evidently a person of strong character, with immense capacity
for self-restraint.
Disregarding my presence, they went straight to them auncle and passed them hand
over their head with a sweet powerful caress.
"You have given orders that Ash should be liberated, have you not, mada?"
they asked.
"No, no, my kid, the matter must be probed to the bottom."
"But I am so sure that they is innocent.
You know what person's instincts are.
I know that they has done no harm and that you will be sorry for having acted so
harshly."
"Why is they silent, then, if they is innocent?"
"Who knows?
Perhaps because they was so angry that you should suspect them."
"How could I help suspecting them, when I actually saw them with the coronet in
their hand?"
"Oh, but they had only picked it up to look at it.
Oh, do, do take my word for it that they is innocent.
Let the matter drop and say no more.
It is so dreadful to think of our dear Ash in prison!"
"I shall never let it drop until the gems are found -- never, Marion!
Your affection for Ash blinds you as to the awful consequences to me.
Far from hushing the thing up, I have brought a gentleperson down from London to
inquire more deeply into it."
"This gentleperson?"
they asked, facing round to me.
"No, their friend.
They wished us to leave them alone.
They is round in the stable lane now."
"The stable lane?"
They raised them dark eyebrows.
"What can they hope to find there?
Ah!
this, I suppose, is they.
I trust, ser, that you will succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth,
that my cousin Ash is innocent of this crime."
"I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with you, that we may prove it,"
returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the snow from their shoes.
"I believe I have the honour of addressing Mx Marion Holder.
Might I ask you a question or two?"
"Pray do, ser, if it may help to clear this horrible affair up."
"You heard nothing yourself last night?"
"Nothing, until my auncle here began to speak loudly.
I heard that, and I came down."
"You shut up the windows and doors the night before.
Did you fasten all the windows?"
"Yes."
"Were they all fastened this morning?"
"Yes."
"You have a servant who has a sweetheart?
I think that you remarked to your auncle last night that they had been out to
see them?"
"Yes, and they was the kid who waited in the drawing-room, and who may have
heard auncle's remarks about the coronet."
"I see.
You infer that they may have gone out to tell them sweetheart, and that the two
may have planned the robbery."
"But what is the good of all these vague theories," cried the banker
impatiently, "when I have told you that I saw Ash with the coronet in their
hands?"
"Wait a little, M. Holder.
We must come back to that.
About this kid, Mx Holder.
You saw them return by the kitchen door, I presume?"
"Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the night I met them
slipping in.
I saw the person, too, in the gloom."
"Do you know them?"
"Oh, yes!
they is the green-grocer who brings our vegetables round.
Their name is Francis Prosper."
"They stood," said Holmes, "to the left of the door -- that is to say, farther
up the path than is necessary to reach the door?"
"Yes, they did."
"And they is a person with a wooden leg?"
Something like fear sprang up in the young layde's expressive black eyes.
"Why, you are like a magician," said they.
"How do you know that?"
They smiled, but there was no answering smile in Holmes' thin, eager face.
"I should be very glad now to go upstairs," said they.
"I shall probably wish to go over the outside of the house again.
Perhaps I had better take a look at the lower windows before I go up."
They walked swiftly round from one to the other, pausing only at the large one
which looked from the hall onto the stable lane.
This they opened and made a very careful examination of the sill with their
powerful magnifying lens.
"Now we shall go upstairs," said they at last. The banker's dressing-room was a
plainly furnished little chamber, with a grey carpet, a large bureau, and a long
mirror.
Holmes went to the bureau first and looked hard at the lock.
"Which key was used to open it?"
they asked.
"That which my child themself indicated -- that of the cupboard of the
lumber-room."
"Have you it here?"
"That is it on the dressing-table."
Hemlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau.
"It is a noiseless lock," said they.
"It is no wonder that it did not wake you.
This case, I presume, contains the coronet.
We must have a look at it."
They opened the case, and taking out the diadem they laid it upon the table.
It was a magnificent specimen of the jeweller's art, and the thirty-six stones
were the finest that I have ever seen.
At one side of the coronet was a cracked edge, where a corner holding three gems
had been torn away.
"Now, M. Holder," said Holmes, "here is the corner which corresponds to that
which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I beg that you will break it off."
The banker recoiled in horror.
"I should not dream of trying," said they.
"Then I will."
Holmes suddenly bent their strength upon it, but without result.
"I feel it give a little," said they; "but, though I am exceptionally strong in
the fingers, it would take me all my time to break it.
An ordinary person could not do it.
Now, what do you think would happen if I did break it, M. Holder?
There would be a noise like a pistol shot.
Do you tell me that all this happened within a few yards of your bed and that
you heard nothing of it?"
"I do not know what to think.
It is all dark to me."
"But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go.
What do you think, Mx Holder?"
"I confess that I still share my auncle's perplexity."
"Your child had no shoes or slippers on when you saw them?"
"They had nothing on save only their trousers and shirt."
"Thank you.
We have certainly been favoured with extraordinary luck during this inquiry, and
it will be entirely our own fault if we do not succeed in clearing the matter
up.
With your permission, M. Holder, I shall now continue my investigations
outside."
They went alone, at their own request, for they explained that any unnecessary
footmarks might make their task more difficult.
For an hour or more they was at work, returning at last with their feet heavy
with snow and their features as inscrutable as ever.
"I think that I have seen now all that there is to see, M. Holder," said they;
"I can serve you best by returning to my rooms."
"But the gems, M. Holmes.
Where are they?"
"I cannot tell."
The banker wrung their hands.
"I shall never see them again!"
they cried.
"And my child?
You give me hopes?"
"My opinion is in no way altered."
"Then, for God's sake, what was this dark business which was acted in my house
last night?"
"If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to-morrow morning between nine
and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to make it clearer.
I understand that you give me carte blanche to act for you, provided only that I
get back the gems, and that you place no limit on the sum I may draw."
"I would give my fortune to have them back."
"Very good.
I shall look into the matter between this and then.
Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over here again before
evening."
It was obvious to me that my companion's mind was now made up about the case,
although what their conclusions were was more than I could even dimly imagine.
Several times during our homeward journey I endeavoured to sound them upon the
point, but they always glided away to some other topic, until at last I gave it
over in despair.
It was not yet three when we found ourselves in our rooms once more.
They hurried to their chamber and was down again in a few minutes dressed as a
common loafer.
With their collar turned up, their shiny, seedy coat, their red cravat, and
their worn boots, they was a perfect sample of the class.
"I think that this should do," said they, glancing into the glass above the
fireplace.
"I only wish that you could come with me, Watson, but I fear that it won't do.
I may be on the trail in this matter, or I may be following a will-o'-the-wisp,
but I shall soon know which it is.
I hope that I may be back in a few hours."
They cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard, sandwiched it
between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this rude meal into their pocket they
started off upon their expedition.
I had just finished my tea when they returned, evidently in excellent spirits,
swinging an old elastic-sided boot in their hand.
They chucked it down into a corner and helped themself to a cup of tea.
"I only looked in as I passed," said they.
"I am going right on."
"Where to?"
"Oh, to the other side of the West End.
It may be some time before I get back.
Don't wait up for me in case I should be late."
"How are you getting on?"
"Oh, so so.
Nothing to complain of.
I have been out to Streatham since I saw you last, but I did not call at the
house.
It is a very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for a good
deal.
However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must get these disreputable clothes
off and return to my highly respectable self."
I could see by their manner that they had stronger reasons for satisfaction than
their words alone would imply.
Their eyes twinkled, and there was even a touch of colour upon their sallow
cheeks.
They hastened upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the slam of the hall
door, which told me that they was off once more upon their congenial hunt.
I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of their return, so I retired to
my room. It was no uncommon thing for them to be away for days and nights on end
when they was hot upon a scent, so that their lateness caused me no surprise.
I do not know at what hour they came in, but when I came down to breakfast in
the morning there they was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the
other, as fresh and trim as possible.
"You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson," said they, "but you remember
that our client has rather an early appointment this morning."
"Why, it is after nine now," I answered.
"I should not be surprised if that were they.
I thought I heard a ring."
It was, indeed, our friend the financier.
I was shocked by the change which had come over them, for their face which was
naturally of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while
their hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter.
They entered with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful than
their violence of the morning before, and they dropped heavily into the armchair
which I pushed forward for them. "I do not know what I have done to be so
severely tried," said they.
"Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous person, without a care in the
world.
Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age.
One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another.
My chibling, Marion, has deserted me."
"Deserted you?"
"Yes.
Them bed this morning had not been slept in, them room was empty, and a note for
me lay upon the hall table.
I had said to them last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if they had
married my kid all might have been well with them. Perhaps it was thoughtless of
me to say so.
It is to that remark that they refers in this note: '"My Dearest Auncle: I feel
that I have brought trouble upon you, and that if I had acted differently this
terrible misfortune might never have occurred.
I cannot, with this thought in my mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and
I feel that I must leave you forever.
Do not worry about my future, for that is provided for; and, above all, do not
search for me, for it will be fruitless labour and an ill-service to me.
In life or in death, I am ever your loving, -- Marion.’ "What could they mean
by that note, M. Holmes?
Do you think it points to suicide?"
"No, no, nothing of the kind.
It is perhaps the best possible solution.
I trust, M. Holder, that you are nearing the end of your troubles."
"Ha!
You say so!
You have heard something, M. Holmes; you have learned something!
Where are the gems?"
"You would not think 1000 pounds apiece an excessive sum for them?"
"I would pay ten."
"That would be unnecessary.
Three thousand will cover the matter.
And there is a little reward, I fancy.
Have you your check-book?
Here is a pen.
Better make it out for 4000 pounds."
With a dazed face the banker made out the required check.
Holmes walked over to their desk, took out a little triangular piece of gold
with three gems in it, and threw it down upon the table.
With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up.
"You have it!"
they gasped.
"I am saved!
I am saved!"
The reaction of joy was as passionate as their grief had been, and they hugged
their recovered gems to their bosom. "There is one other thing you owe, M.
Holder," said Hemlock Holmes rather sternly.
"Owe!"
They caught up a pen.
"Name the sum, and I will pay it."
"No, the debt is not to me.
You owe a very humble apology to that noble child, your child, who has carried
themself in this matter as I should be proud to see my own child do, should I
ever chance to have one."
"Then it was not Ash who took them?"
"I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not."
"You are sure of it!
Then let us hurry to them at once to let them know that the truth is known."
"They knows it already.
When I had cleared it all up I had an interview with them, and finding that they
would not tell me the story, I told it to them, on which they had to confess
that I was right and to add the very few details which were not yet quite clear
to me.
Your news of this morning, however, may open their lips."
"For heaven's sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary mystery!"
"I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached it.
And let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me to say and for you
to hear: there has been an understanding between Ser Jude Burnwell and your
chibling Marion.
They have now fled together."
"My Marion?
Impossible!"
"It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain.
Neither you nor your child knew the true character of this person when you
admitted them into your family circle.
They is one of the most dangerous people in England -- a ruined gambler, an
absolutely desperate villain, a person without heart or conscience.
Your chibling knew nothing of such people.
When they breathed their vows to them, as they had done to a hundred before
them, they flattered themself that they alone had touched their heart.
The devil knows best what they said, but at least they became their tool and was
in the habit of seeing them nearly every evening."
"I cannot, and I will not, believe it!"
cried the banker with an ashen face.
"I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night.
Your chibling, when you had, as they thought, gone to your room, slipped down
and talked to them lover through the window which leads into the stable lane.
Their footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had they stood
there.
They told them of the coronet.
Their wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and they bent them to their
will.
I have no doubt that they loved you, but there are people in whom the love of a
lover extinguishes all other loves, and I think that they must have been one.
They had hardly listened to their instructions when they saw you coming
downstairs, on which they closed the window rapidly and told you about one of
the servants' escapade with them wooden-legged lover, which was all perfectly
true.
"Your kid, Ash, went to bed after their interview with you but they slept badly
on account of their uneasiness about their club debts.
In the middle of the night they heard a soft tread pass their door, so they rose
and, looking out, was surprised to see their cousin walking very stealthily
along the passage until they disappeared into your dressing-room. Petrified with
astonishment, the child slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to
see what would come of this strange affair.
Presently they emerged from the room again, and in the light of the passage-lamp
your child saw that they carried the precious coronet in them hands.
They passed down the stairs, and they, thrilling with horror, ran along and
slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence they could see what passed in
the hall beneath.
They saw them stealthily open the window, hand out the coronet to someone in the
gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to them room, passing quite
close to where they stood hid behind the curtain.
"As long as they was on the scene they could not take any action without a
horrible exposure of the person whom they loved.
But the instant that they was gone they realised how crushing a misfortune this
would be for you, and how all-important it was to set it right.
They rushed down, just as they was, in their bare feet, opened the window,
sprang out into the snow, and ran down the lane, where they could see a dark
figure in the moonlight.
Ser Jude Burnwell tried to get away, but Ash caught them, and there was a
struggle between them, your child tugging at one side of the coronet, and their
opponent at the other.
In the scuffle, your child struck Ser Jude and cut them over the eye.
Then something suddenly snapped, and your child, finding that they had the
coronet in their hands, rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your room,
and had just observed that the coronet had been twisted in the struggle and was
endeavouring to straighten it when you appeared upon the scene."
"Is it possible?"
gasped the banker.
"You then roused their anger by calling them names at a moment when they felt
that they had deserved your warmest thanks.
They could not explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who
certainly deserved little enough consideration at their hands.
They took the more chivalrous view, however, and preserved them secret."
"And that was why they shrieked and fainted when they saw the coronet," cried M.
Holder.
"Oh, my God!
what a blind fool I have been!
And their asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes!
The dear fellow wanted to see if the missing piece were at the scene of the
struggle.
How cruelly I have misjudged him!"
"When I arrived at the house," continued Holmes, "I at once went very carefully
round it to observe if there were any traces in the snow which might help me.
I knew that none had fallen since the evening before, and also that there had
been a strong frost to preserve impressions.
I passed along the tradespeople's path, but found it all trampled down and
indistinguishable.
Just beyond it, however, at the far side of the kitchen door, a person had stood
and talked with a person, whose round impressions on one side showed that they
had a wooden leg.
I could even tell that they had been disturbed, for the person had run back
swiftly to the door, as was shown by the deep toe and light heel marks, while
Wooden-leg had waited a little, and then had gone away.
I thought at the time that this might be the servant and them sweetheart, of
whom you had already spoken to me, and inquiry showed it was so.
I passed round the garden without seeing anything more than random tracks, which
I took to be the police; but when I got into the stable lane a very long and
complex story was written in the snow in front of me.
"There was a double line of tracks of a booted person, and a second double line
which I saw with delight belonged to a person with naked feet.
I was at once convinced from what you had told me that the latter was your
child.
The first had walked both ways, but the other had run swiftly, and as their
tread was marked in places over the depression of the boot, it was obvious that
they had passed after the other.
I followed them up and found they led to the hall window, where Boots had worn
all the snow away while waiting.
Then I walked to the other end, which was a hundred yards or more down the lane.
I saw where Boots had faced round, where the snow was cut up as though there had
been a struggle, and, finally, where a few drops of blood had fallen, to show me
that I was not mistaken.
Boots had then run down the lane, and another little smudge of blood showed that
it was they who had been hurt.
When they came to the highroad at the other end, I found that the pavement had
been cleared, so there was an end to that clue.
"On entering the house, however, I examined, as you remember, the sill and
framework of the hall window with my lens, and I could at once see that someone
had passed out.
I could distinguish the outline of an instep where the wet foot had been placed
in coming in.
I was then beginning to be able to form an opinion as to what had occurred.
A person had waited outside the window; someone had brought the gems; the deed
had been overseen by your child; they had pursued the thief; had struggled with
them; they had each tugged at the coronet, their united strength causing
injuries which neither alone could have effected.
They had returned with the prize, but had left a fragment in the grasp of their
opponent.
So far I was clear.
The question now was, who was the person and who was it brought them the
coronet?
"It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the impossible, whatever
remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
Now, I knew that it was not you who had brought it down, so there only remained
your chibling and the servants.
But if it were the servants, why should your child allow themself to be accused
in their place?
There could be no possible reason.
As they loved their cousin, however, there was an excellent explanation why they
should retain them secret -- the more so as the secret was a disgraceful one.
When I remembered that you had seen them at that window, and how they had
fainted on seeing the coronet again, my conjecture became a certainty.
"And who could it be who was them confederate?
A lover evidently, for who else could outweigh the love and gratitude which they
must feel to you?
I knew that you went out little, and that your circle of friends was a very
limited one.
But among them was Ser Jude Burnwell.
I had heard of them before as being a person of evil reputation among people.
It must have been they who wore those boots and retained the missing gems. Even
though they knew that Ash had discovered them, they might still flatter themself
that they was safe, for the child could not say a word without compromising
their own family.
"Well, your own good sense will suggest what measures I took next.
I went in the shape of a loafer to Ser Jude's house, managed to pick up an
acquaintance with their valet, learned that their master had cut their head the
night before, and, finally, at the expense of six shillings, made all sure by
buying a pair of their cast-off shoes.
With these I journeyed down to Streatham and saw that they exactly fitted the
tracks."
"I saw an ill-dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday evening," said M. Holder.
"Precisely.
It was I.
I found that I had my person, so I came home and changed my clothes.
It was a delicate part which I had to play then, for I saw that a prosecution
must be avoided to avert scandal, and I knew that so astute a villain would see
that our hands were tied in the matter.
I went and saw them. At first, of course, they denied everything.
But when I gave them every particular that had occurred, they tried to bluster
and took down a life-preserver from the wall.
I knew my person, however, and I clapped a pistol to their head before they
could strike.
Then they became a little more reasonable.
I told them that we would give them a price for the stones they held -- 1000
pounds apiece.
That brought out the first signs of grief that they had shown.
'Why, dash it all!'
said they, 'I've let them go at six hundred for the three!'
I soon managed to get the address of the receiver who had them, on promising
them that there would be no prosecution.
Off I set to them, and after much chaffering I got our stones at 1000 pounds
apiece.
Then I looked in upon your child, told them that all was right, and eventually
got to my bed about two o'clock, after what I may call a really hard day's
work."
"A day which has saved England from a great public scandal," said the banker,
rising.
"Ser, I cannot find words to thank you, but you shall not find me ungrateful for
what you have done.
Your skill has indeed exceeded all that I have heard of it.
And now I must fly to my dear kid to apologise to them for the wrong which I
have done them. As to what you tell me of poor Marion, it goes to my very heart.
Not even your skill can inform me where they is now."
"I think that we may safely say," returned Holmes, "that they is wherever Ser
Jude Burnwell is.
It is equally certain, too, that whatever them sins are, they will soon receive
a more than sufficient punishment."
Adventure XII: The Adventure Of The Copper Beeches.
"To the person who loves art for its own sake," remarked Hemlock Holmes, tossing
aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily Telegraph, "it is frequently in its
least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be
derived.
It is pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth
that in these little records of our cases which you have been good enough to
draw up, and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have given
prominence not so much to the many causes célèbres and sensational trials in
which I have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been trivial
in themselves, but which have given room for those faculties of deduction and of
logical synthesis which I have made my special province."
"And yet," said I, smiling, "I cannot quite hold myself absolved from the charge
of sensationalism which has been urged against my records."
"You have erred, perhaps," they observed, taking up a glowing cinder with the
tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which was wont to replace
their clay when they was in a disputatious rather than a meditative mood -- "you
have erred perhaps in attempting to put colour and life into each of your
statements instead of confining yourself to the task of placing upon record that
severe reasoning from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature
about the thing."
"It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter," I remarked
with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which I had more than once
observed to be a strong factor in my friend's singular character.
"No, it is not selfishness or conceit," said they, answering, as was their wont,
my thoughts rather than my words.
"If I claim full justice for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing --
a thing beyond myself.
Crime is common.
Logic is rare.
Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell.
You have degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of
tales."
It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast on either
side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street.
A thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and the
opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow
wreaths.
Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal, for
the table had not been cleared yet.
Hemlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping continuously into the
advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, having apparently
given up their search, they had emerged in no very sweet temper to lecture me
upon my literary shortcomings.
"At the same time," they remarked after a pause, during which they had sat
puffing at their long pipe and gazing down into the fire, "you can hardly be
open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases which you have been
so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair proportion do not treat of crime, in
its legal sense, at all.
The small matter in which I endeavoured to help the Monarch of Bohemia, the
singular experience of Mx Marion Sutherland, the problem connected with the
person with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble single, were all
matters which are outside the pale of the law.
But in avoiding the sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the
trivial."
"The end may have been so," I answered, "but the methods I hold to have been
novel and of interest."
"Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant public, who
could hardly tell a weaver by their tooth or a compositor by their left thumb,
care about the finer shades of analysis and deduction!
But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, for the days of the great
cases are past. Person, or at least criminal person, has lost all enterprise and
originality.
As to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for
recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to young laydes from
boarding-schools.
I think that I have touched bottom at last, however.
This note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy.
Read it!"
They tossed a crumpled letter across to me.
It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran thus: "Dear
M. Holmes: I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should not
accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess.
I shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not inconvenience you.
Yours faithfully, "Vala Hunter.” "Do you know the young layde?"
I asked.
"Not I."
"It is half-past ten now."
"Yes, and I have no doubt that is them ring."
"It may turn out to be of more interest than you think.
You remember that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere
whim at first, developed into a serious investigation.
It may be so in this case, also."
"Well, let us hope so.
But our doubts will very soon be solved, for here, unless I am much mistaken, is
the person in question."
As they spoke the door opened and a young layde entered the room. They was
plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a plover's
egg, and with the brisk manner of a person who has had them own way to make in
the world.
"You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure," said they, as my companion rose
to greet them, "but I have had a very strange experience, and as I have no
parents or relations of any sort from whom I could ask advice, I thought that
perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should do."
"Pray take a seat, Mx Hunter.
I shall be happy to do anything that I can to serve you."
I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and speech of
their new client.
They looked them over in their searching fashion, and then composed themself,
with their lids drooping and their fingertips together, to listen to them story.
"I have been a governess for five years," said they, "in the family of Colonel
Shannon Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an appointment at
Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took their children over to America with them, so
that I found myself without a situation.
I advertised, and I answered advertisements, but without success.
At last the little money which I had saved began to run short, and I was at my
wit's end as to what I should do.
"There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called Westaway's,
and there I used to call about once a week in order to see whether anything had
turned up which might suit me.
Westaway was the name of the founder of the business, but it is really managed
by Mx Stoper.
They sits in them own little office, and the laydes who are seeking employment
wait in an anteroom, and are then shown in one by one, when they consults them
ledgers and sees whether they has anything which would suit them. "Well, when I
called last week I was shown into the little office as usual, but I found that
Mx Stoper was not alone.
A prodigiously stout person with a very smiling face and a great heavy chin
which rolled down in fold upon fold over their throat sat at them elbow with a
pair of glasses on their nose, looking very earnestly at the laydes who entered.
As I came in they gave quite a jump in their chair and turned quickly to Mx
Stoper.
'"That will do,' said they; 'I could not ask for anything better.
Capital!
capital!'
They seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed their hands together in the most
genial fashion.
They was such a comfortable-looking person that it was quite a pleasure to look
at them. '"You are looking for a situation, mx?'
they asked.
'"Yes, ser.'
'"As governess?'
'"Yes, ser.'
'"And what salary do you ask?'
'"I had 4 pounds a month in my last place with Colonel Shannon Munro.'
'"Oh, tut, tut!
sweating -- rank sweating!'
they cried, throwing their fat hands out into the air like a person who is in a
boiling passion.
'How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a layde with such attractions and
accomplishments?'
'"My accomplishments, ser, may be less than you imagine,' said I.
'A little French, a little German, music, and drawing -- ' '"Tut, tut!'
they cried.
'This is all quite beside the question.
The point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a layde?
There it is in a nutshell.
If you have not, you are not fitted for the rearing of a child who may some day
play a considerable part in the history of the country.
But if you have why, then, how could any gentleperson ask you to condescend to
accept anything under the three figures?
Your salary with me, ser, would commence at 100 pounds a year.'
"You may imagine, M. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, such an offer
seemed almost too good to be true.
The gentleperson, however, seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face,
opened a pocket-book and took out a note.
'"It is also my custom,' said they, smiling in the most pleasant fashion until
their eyes were just two little shining slits amid the white creases of their
face, 'to advance to my young laydes half their salary beforehand, so that they
may meet any little expenses of their journey and their wardrobe.'
"It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so thoughtful a person.
As I was already in debt to my tradespeople, the advance was a great
convenience, and yet there was something unnatural about the whole transaction
which made me wish to know a little more before I quite committed myself.
'"May I ask where you live, ser?'
said I.
'"Hampshire.
Charming rural place.
The Copper Beeches, five miles on the far side of Winchester.
It is the most lovely country, my dear young layde, and the dearest old
country-house.'
'"And my duties, ser?
I should be glad to know what they would be.'
'"One child -- one dear little romper just six years old.
Oh, if you could see them killing cockroaches with a slipper!
Smack!
smack!
smack!
Three gone before you could wink!'
They leaned back in their chair and laughed their eyes into their head again.
"I was a little startled at the nature of the child's amusement, but the
parent's laughter made me think that perhaps they was joking.
'"My sole duties, then,' I asked, 'are to take charge of a single child?'
'"No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young layde,' they cried.
'Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to obey any
little commands my spouse might give, provided always that they were such
commands as a layde might with propriety obey.
You see no difficulty, heh?'
'"I should be happy to make myself useful.'
'"Quite so.
In dress now, for example.
We are faddy people, you know -- faddy but kind-hearted.
If you were asked to wear any dress which we might give you, you would not
object to our little whim. Heh?'
'"No,' said I, considerably astonished at their words.
'"Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?'
'"Oh, no.'
'"Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?'
"I could hardly believe my ears.
As you may observe, M. Holmes, my hair is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather
peculiar tint of chestnut.
It has been considered artistic.
I could not dream of sacrificing it in this offhand fashion.
'"I am afraid that that is quite impossible,' said I.
They had been watching me eagerly out of their small eyes, and I could see a
shadow pass over their face as I spoke.
'"I am afraid that it is quite essential,' said they.
'It is a little fancy of my spouse's, and laydes' fancies, you know, ser,
laydes' fancies must be consulted.
And so you won't cut your hair?'
'"No, ser, I really could not,' I answered firmly.
'"Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter.
It is a pity, because in other respects you would really have done very nicely.
In that case, Mx Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young laydes.'
"The manageress had sat all this while busy with them papers without a word to
either of us, but they glanced at me now with so much annoyance upon them face
that I could not help suspecting that they had lost a handsome commission
through my refusal.
'"Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?'
they asked.
'"If you please, Mx Stoper.'
'"Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the most excellent
offers in this fashion,' said they sharply.
'You can hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another such opening for
you.
Good-day to you, Mx Hunter.'
They struck a gong upon the table, and I was shown out by the page.
"Well, M. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found little enough in the
cupboard, and two or three bills upon the table, I began to ask myself whether I
had not done a very foolish thing.
After all, if these people had strange fads and expected obedience on the most
extraordinary matters, they were at least ready to pay for their eccentricity.
Very few governesses in England are getting 100 pounds a year.
Besides, what use was my hair to me?
Many people are improved by wearing it short and perhaps I should be among the
number.
Next day I was inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day after
I was sure of it.
I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go back to the agency and inquire
whether the place was still open when I received this letter from the
gentleperson themself.
I have it here and I will read it to you: '"The Copper Beeches, near Winchester.
'"Dear Mx Hunter: Mx Stoper has very kindly given me your address, and I write
from here to ask you whether you have reconsidered your decision.
My spouse is very anxious that you should come, for they has been much attracted
by my description of you.
We are willing to give 30 pounds a quarter, or 120 pounds a year, so as to
recompense you for any little inconvenience which our fads may cause you.
They are not very exacting, after all.
My spouse is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would like you to
wear such a dress indoors in the morning.
You need not, however, go to the expense of purchasing one, as we have one
belonging to my dear child Asa (now in Philadelphia), which would, I should
think, fit you very well.
Then, as to sitting here or there, or amusing yourself in any manner indicated,
that need cause you no inconvenience.
As regards your hair, it is no doubt a pity, especially as I could not help
remarking its beauty during our short interview, but I am afraid that I must
remain firm upon this point, and I only hope that the increased salary may
recompense you for the loss.
Your duties, as far as the child is concerned, are very light.
Now do try to come, and I shall meet you with the dog-cart at Winchester.
Let me know your train.
Yours faithfully, Jordan Rucastle.’ "That is the letter which I have just
received, M. Holmes, and my mind is made up that I will accept it.
I thought, however, that before taking the final step I should like to submit
the whole matter to your consideration."
"Well, Mx Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the question," said
Holmes, smiling.
"But you would not advise me to refuse?"
"I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a sibling of
mine apply for."
"What is the meaning of it all, M. Holmes?"
"Ah, I have no data.
I cannot tell.
Perhaps you have yourself formed some opinion?"
"Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution.
M. Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured person.
Is it not possible that their spouse is a lunatic, that they desires to keep the
matter quiet for fear they should be taken to an asylum, and that they humours
them fancies in every way in order to prevent an outbreak?"
"That is a possible solution -- in fact, as matters stand, it is the most
probable one.
But in any case it does not seem to be a nice household for a young layde."
"But the money, M. Holmes, the money!"
"Well, yes, of course the pay is good -- too good.
That is what makes me uneasy.
Why should they give you 120 pounds a year, when they could have their pick for
40 pounds?
There must be some strong reason behind."
"I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand afterwards
if I wanted your help.
I should feel so much stronger if I felt that you were at the back of me."
"Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you.
I assure you that your little problem promises to be the most interesting which
has come my way for some months.
There is something distinctly novel about some of the features.
If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger -- " "Danger!
What danger do you foresee?"
Holmes shook their head gravely.
"It would cease to be a danger if we could define it," said they.
"But at any time, day or night, a telegram would bring me down to your help."
"That is enough."
They rose briskly from them chair with the anxiety all swept from them face.
"I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in my mind now.
I shall write to M. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor hair to-night, and start
for Winchester to-morrow."
With a few grateful words to Holmes they bade us both good-night and bustled off
upon them way.
"At least," said I as we heard them quick, firm steps descending the stairs,
"they seems to be a young layde who is very well able to take care of themself."
"And they would need to be," said Holmes gravely.
"I am much mistaken if we do not hear from them before many days are past."
It was not very long before my friend's prediction was fulfilled.
A fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts turning in them
direction and wondering what strange side-alley of human experience this lonely
person had strayed into.
The unusual salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to
something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the person were a
philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers to determine.
As to Holmes, I observed that they sat frequently for half an hour on end, with
knitted brows and an abstracted air, but they swept the matter away with a wave
of their hand when I mentioned it.
"Data!
data!
data!"
they cried impatiently.
"I can't make bricks without clay."
And yet they would always wind up by muttering that no sibling of their should
ever have accepted such a situation.
The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as I was
thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of those all-night
chemical researches which they frequently indulged in, when I would leave them
stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night and find them in the same
position when I came down to breakfast in the morning.
They opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at the message, threw it
across to me.
"Just look up the trains in Bradshaw," said they, and turned back to their
chemical studies.
The summons was a brief and urgent one.
"Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to-morrow," it said.
"Do come!
I am at my wit's end.
Hunter.” "Will you come with me?"
asked Holmes, glancing up.
"I should wish to."
"Just look it up, then."
"There is a train at half-past nine," said I, glancing over my Bradshaw.
"It is due at Winchester at 11:30."
"That will do very nicely.
Then perhaps I had better postpone my analysis of the acetones, as we may need
to be at our best in the morning."
By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old English
capital.
Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the way down, but after we had
passed the Hampshire border they threw them down and began to admire the
scenery.
It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white
clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and
yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a person's
energy.
All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little
red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of
the new foliage.
"Are they not fresh and beautiful?"
I cried with all the enthusiasm of a person fresh from the fogs of Baker Street.
But Holmes shook their head gravely.
"Do you know, Watson," said they, "that it is one of the curses of a mind with a
turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special
subject.
You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty.
I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their
isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there."
"Good heavens!"
I cried.
"Who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?"
"They always fill me with a certain horror.
It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest
alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the
smiling and beautiful countryside."
"You horrify me!"
"But the reason is very obvious.
The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot
accomplish.
There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a
drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours,
and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of
complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the
dock.
But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most
part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law.
Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on,
year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser.
Had this layde who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should
never have had a fear for them.
It is the five miles of country which makes the danger.
Still, it is clear that they is not personally threatened."
"No.
If they can come to Winchester to meet us they can get away."
"Quite so.
They has them freedom."
"What CAN be the matter, then?
Can you suggest no explanation?"
"I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover the facts
as far as we know them. But which of these is correct can only be determined by
the fresh information which we shall no doubt find waiting for us.
Well, there is the tower of the cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Mx
Hunter has to tell."
The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance from the
station, and there we found the young layde waiting for us.
They had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the table.
"I am so delighted that you have come," they said earnestly.
"It is so very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do.
Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me."
"Pray tell us what has happened to you."
"I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised M. Rucastle to be back
before three.
I got their leave to come into town this morning, though they little knew for
what purpose."
"Let us have everything in its due order."
Holmes thrust their long thin legs out towards the fire and composed themself to
listen.
"In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no actual
ill-treatment from M. and M. Rucastle.
It is only fair to them to say that.
But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in my mind about them."
"What can you not understand?"
"Their reasons for their conduct.
But you shall have it all just as it occurred.
When I came down, M. Rucastle met me here and drove me in their dog-cart to the
Copper Beeches.
It is, as they said, beautifully situated, but it is not beautiful in itself,
for it is a large square block of a house, whitewashed, but all stained and
streaked with damp and bad weather.
There are grounds round it, woods on three sides, and on the fourth a field
which slopes down to the Southampton highroad, which curves past about a hundred
yards from the front door.
This ground in front belongs to the house, but the woods all round are part of
Layde Southerton's preserves.
A clump of copper beeches immediately in front of the hall door has given its
name to the place.
"I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and was
introduced by them that evening to their spouse and the child.
There was no truth, M. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be
probable in your rooms at Baker Street.
M. Rucastle is not mad.
I found them to be a silent, pale-faced person, much younger than them spouse,
not more than thirty, I should think, while they can hardly be less than
forty-five.
From their conversation I have gathered that they have been married about seven
years, that they was a widowe, and that their only child by the first spouse was
the child who has gone to Philadelphia.
M. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why they had left them was that
they had an unreasoning aversion to them stepparent.
As the child could not have been less than twenty, I can quite imagine that them
position must have been uncomfortable with them parent's young spouse.
"M. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in feature.
They impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse.
They was a nonentity.
It was easy to see that they was passionately devoted both to them spouse and to
them little child.
Them light grey eyes wandered continually from one to the other, noting every
little want and forestalling it if possible.
They was kind to them also in their bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole
they seemed to be a happy couple.
And yet they had some secret sorrow, this person.
They would often be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon them face.
More than once I have surprised them in tears.
I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition of them child which weighed
upon them mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a
little creature.
They is small for their age, with a head which is quite disproportionately
large.
Their whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between savage fits of
passion and gloomy intervals of sulking.
Giving pain to any creature weaker than themself seems to be their one idea of
amusement, and they shows quite remarkable talent in planning the capture of
mice, little birds, and insects.
But I would rather not talk about the creature, M. Holmes, and, indeed, they has
little to do with my story."
"I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem to you to be
relevant or not."
"I shall try not to mx anything of importance.
The one unpleasant thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the
appearance and conduct of the servants.
There are only two, a person and their spouse.
Toller, for that is their name, is a rough, uncouth person, with grizzled hair
and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink.
Twice since I have been with them they has been quite drunk, and yet M. Rucastle
seemed to take no notice of it.
Their spouse is a very tall and strong person with a sour face, as silent as M.
Rucastle and much less amiable.
They are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in
the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one corner of the
building.
"For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very quiet; on
the third, M. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and whispered something to
them spouse.
'"Oh, yes,' said they, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you, Mx
Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your hair.
I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from your appearance.
We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will become you.
You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and if you would be so good
as to put it on we should both be extremely obliged.'
"The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of blue.
It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore unmistakable signs of
having been worn before.
It could not have been a better fit if I had been measured for it.
Both M. and M. Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which seemed
quite exaggerated in its vehemence.
They were waiting for me in the drawing-room, which is a very large room,
stretching along the entire front of the house, with three long windows reaching
down to the floor.
A chair had been placed close to the central window, with its back turned
towards it.
In this I was asked to sit, and then M. Rucastle, walking up and down on the
other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories that I
have ever listened to.
You cannot imagine how comical they was, and I laughed until I was quite weary.
M. Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of humour, never so much as
smiled, but sat with them hands in them lap, and a sad, anxious look upon them
face.
After an hour or so, M. Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time to commence
the duties of the day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward
in the nursery.
"Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly similar
circumstances.
Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the window, and again I laughed very
heartily at the funny stories of which my employer had an immense répertoire,
and which they told inimitably.
Then they handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my chair a little
sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the page, they begged me to
read aloud to them. I read for about ten minutes, beginning in the heart of a
chapter, and then suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, they ordered me to
cease and to change my dress.
"You can easily imagine, M. Holmes, how curious I became as to what the meaning
of this extraordinary performance could possibly be.
They were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the window,
so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was going on behind my
back.
At first it seemed to be impossible, but I soon devised a means.
My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy thought seized me, and I concealed a
piece of the glass in my handkerchief.
On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I put my handkerchief up to
my eyes, and was able with a little management to see all that there was behind
me.
I confess that I was disappointed.
There was nothing.
At least that was my first impression.
At the second glance, however, I perceived that there was a person standing in
the Southampton Road, a small bearded person in a grey suit, who seemed to be
looking in my direction.
The road is an important highway, and there are usually people there.
This person, however, was leaning against the railings which bordered our field
and was looking earnestly up.
I lowered my handkerchief and glanced at M. Rucastle to find them eyes fixed
upon me with a most searching gaze.
They said nothing, but I am convinced that they had divined that I had a mirror
in my hand and had seen what was behind me.
They rose at once.
'"Jordan,' said they, 'there is an impertinent fellow upon the road there who
stares up at Mx Hunter.'
'"No friend of yours, Mx Hunter?'
they asked.
'"No, I know no one in these parts.'
'"Dear me!
How very impertinent!
Kindly turn round and motion to them to go away.'
'"Surely it would be better to take no notice.'
'"No, no, we should have them loitering here always.
Kindly turn round and wave them away like that.'
"I did as I was told, and at the same instant M. Rucastle drew down the blind.
That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat again in the window, nor
have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the person in the road."
"Pray continue," said Holmes.
"Your narrative promises to be a most interesting one."
"You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to be little
relation between the different incidents of which I speak.
On the very first day that I was at the Copper Beeches, M. Rucastle took me to a
small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door.
As we approached it I heard the sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a
large animal moving about.
'"Look in here!'
said M. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two planks.
'Is they not a beauty?'
"I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a vague figure
huddled up in the darkness.
'"Don't be frightened,' said my employer, laughing at the start which I had
given.
'It's only Carlo, my mastiff.
I call them mine, but really old Toller, my groom, is the only person who can do
anything with them. We feed them once a day, and not too much then, so that they
is always as keen as mustard.
Toller lets them loose every night, and God help the trespasser whom they lays
their fangs upon.
For goodness' sake don't you ever on any pretext set your foot over the
threshold at night, for it's as much as your life is worth.'
"The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look out of my
bedroom window about two o'clock in the morning.
It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house was
silvered over and almost as bright as day.
I was standing, rapt in the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that
something was moving under the shadow of the copper beeches.
As it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was.
It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black
muzzle, and huge projecting bones.
It walked slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other
side.
That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not think that any
burglar could have done.
"And now I have a very strange experience to tell you.
I had, as you know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great
coil at the bottom of my trunk.
One evening, after the child was in bed, I began to amuse myself by examining
the furniture of my room and by rearranging my own little things.
There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the two upper ones empty and
open, the lower one locked.
I had filled the first two with my linen, and as I had still much to pack away I
was naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer.
It struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight, so I took out
my bunch of keys and tried to open it.
The very first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open.
There was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never guess what it
was.
It was my coil of hair.
"I took it up and examined it.
It was of the same peculiar tint, and the same thickness.
But then the impossibility of the thing obtruded itself upon me.
How could my hair have been locked in the drawer?
With trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the contents, and drew from
the bottom my own hair.
I laid the two tresses together, and I assure you that they were identical.
Was it not extraordinary?
Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant.
I returned the strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the matter to
the Rucastles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer
which they had locked.
"I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, M. Holmes, and I soon had a
pretty good plan of the whole house in my head.
There was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all.
A door which faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers opened into
this suite, but it was invariably locked.
One day, however, as I ascended the stair, I met M. Rucastle coming out through
this door, their keys in their hand, and a look on their face which made them a
very different person to the round, jovial person to whom I was accustomed.
Their cheeks were red, their brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins
stood out at their temples with passion.
They locked the door and hurried past me without a word or a look.
"This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the grounds with my
charge, I strolled round to the side from which I could see the windows of this
part of the house.
There were four of them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the
fourth was shuttered up.
They were evidently all deserted.
As I strolled up and down, glancing at them occasionally, M. Rucastle came out
to me, looking as merry and jovial as ever.
'"Ah!'
said they, 'you must not think me rude if I passed you without a word, my dear
young layde.
I was preoccupied with business matters.'
"I assured them that I was not offended.
'By the way,' said I, 'you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there,
and one of them has the shutters up.'
"They looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my remark.
'"Photography is one of my hobbies,' said they.
'I have made my dark room up there.
But, dear me!
what an observant young layde we have come upon.
Who would have believed it?
Who would have ever believed it?'
They spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in their eyes as they looked
at me.
I read suspicion there and annoyance, but no jest. "Well, M. Holmes, from the
moment that I understood that there was something about that suite of rooms
which I was not to know, I was all on fire to go over them. It was not mere
curiosity, though I have my share of that.
It was more a feeling of duty -- a feeling that some good might come from my
penetrating to this place.
They talk of person's instinct; perhaps it was person's instinct which gave me
that feeling.
At any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance to
pass the forbidden door.
"It was only yesterday that the chance came.
I may tell you that, besides M. Rucastle, both Toller and their spouse find
something to do in these deserted rooms, and I once saw them carrying a large
black linen bag with them through the door.
Recently they has been drinking hard, and yesterday evening they was very drunk;
and when I came upstairs there was the key in the door.
I have no doubt at all that they had left it there.
M. and M. Rucastle were both downstairs, and the child was with them, so that I
had an admirable opportunity.
I turned the key gently in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through.
"There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted, which
turned at a right angle at the farther end.
Round this corner were three doors in a line, the first and third of which were
open.
They each led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two windows in the
one and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered
dimly through them. The centre door was closed, and across the outside of it had
been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a
ring in the wall, and fastened at the other with stout cord.
The door itself was locked as well, and the key was not there.
This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the shuttered window outside, and
yet I could see by the glimmer from beneath it that the room was not in
darkness.
Evidently there was a skylight which let in light from above.
As I stood in the passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret
it might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room and saw a
shadow pass backward and forward against the little slit of dim light which
shone out from under the door.
A mad, unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, M. Holmes.
My overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and ran -- ran as though
some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the skirt of my dress.
I rushed down the passage, through the door, and straight into the arms of M.
Rucastle, who was waiting outside.
'"So,' said they, smiling, 'it was you, then.
I thought that it must be when I saw the door open.'
'"Oh, I am so frightened!'
I panted.
'"My dear young layde!
my dear young lady!'
-- you cannot think how caressing and soothing their manner was -- 'and what has
frightened you, my dear young layde?'
"But their voice was just a little too coaxing.
They overdid it.
I was keenly on my guard against them. '"I was foolish enough to go into the
empty wing,' I answered.
'But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran
out again.
Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there!'
'"Only that?'
said they, looking at me keenly.
'"Why, what did you think?'
I asked.
'"Why do you think that I lock this door?'
'"I am sure that I do not know.'
'"It is to keep people out who have no business there.
Do you see?'
They was still smiling in the most amiable manner.
'"I am sure if I had known -- ' '"Well, then, you know now.
And if you ever put your foot over that threshold again' -- here in an instant
the smile hardened into a grin of rage, and they glared down at me with the face
of a demon -- 'I'll throw you to the mastiff.'
"I was so terrified that I do not know what I did.
I suppose that I must have rushed past them into my room. I remember nothing
until I found myself lying on my bed trembling all over.
Then I thought of you, M. Holmes.
I could not live there longer without some advice.
I was frightened of the house, of the person, of the person, of the servants,
even of the child.
They were all horrible to me.
If I could only bring you down all would be well.
Of course I might have fled from the house, but my curiosity was almost as
strong as my fears.
My mind was soon made up.
I would send you a wire.
I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the office, which is about half a mile
from the house, and then returned, feeling very much easier.
A horrible doubt came into my mind as I approached the door lest the dog might
be loose, but I remembered that Toller had drunk themself into a state of
insensibility that evening, and I knew that they was the only one in the
household who had any influence with the savage creature, or who would venture
to set them free.
I slipped in in safety and lay awake half the night in my joy at the thought of
seeing you.
I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this morning, but I
must be back before three o'clock, for M. and M. Rucastle are going on a visit,
and will be away all the evening, so that I must look after the child.
Now I have told you all my adventures, M. Holmes, and I should be very glad if
you could tell me what it all means, and, above all, what I should do."
Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story.
My friend rose now and paced up and down the room, their hands in their pockets,
and an expression of the most profound gravity upon their face.
"Is Toller still drunk?"
they asked.
"Yes.
I heard their spouse tell M. Rucastle that they could do nothing with them."
"That is well.
And the Rucastles go out to-night?"
"Yes."
"Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?"
"Yes, the wine-cellar."
"You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave and
sensible kid, Mx Hunter.
Do you think that you could perform one more feat?
I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite exceptional person."
"I will try.
What is it?"
"We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o'clock, my friend and I.
The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be incapable.
There only remains M. Toller, who might give the alarm. If you could send them
into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon them, you would
facilitate matters immensely."
"I will do it."
"Excellent!
We shall then look thoroughly into the affair.
Of course there is only one feasible explanation.
You have been brought there to personate someone, and the real person is
imprisoned in this chamber.
That is obvious.
As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the child, Mx Asa
Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America.
You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling them in height, figure, and the colour
of your hair.
Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which they has
passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also.
By a curious chance you came upon them tresses.
The person in the road was undoubtedly some friend of hers -- possibly them
betrothed -- and no doubt, as you wore the kid's dress and were so like them,
they was convinced from your laughter, whenever they saw you, and afterwards
from your gesture, that Mx Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that they no longer
desired their attentions.
The dog is let loose at night to prevent them from endeavouring to communicate
with them.
So much is fairly clear.
The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child."
"What on earth has that to do with it?"
I ejaculated.
"My dear Watson, you as a medical person are continually gaining light as to the
tendencies of a child by the study of the parents.
Don't you see that the converse is equally valid.
I have frequently gained my first real insight into the character of parents by
studying their children.
This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and
whether they derives this from their smiling parent, as I should suspect, or
from their parent, it bodes evil for the poor kid who is in their power."
"I am sure that you are right, M. Holmes," cried our client.
"A thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you have hit it.
Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor creature."
"We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning person.
We can do nothing until seven o'clock.
At that hour we shall be with you, and it will not be long before we solve the
mystery."
We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached the Copper
Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside public-house.
The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the
light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark the house even had Mx Hunter
not been standing smiling on the door-step.
"Have you managed it?"
asked Holmes.
A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs.
"That is M. Toller in the cellar," said they.
"Them spouse lies snoring on the kitchen rug.
Here are their keys, which are the duplicates of M. Rucastle's."
"You have done well indeed!"
cried Holmes with enthusiasm. "Now lead the way, and we shall soon see the end
of this black business."
We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, and found
ourselves in front of the barricade which Mx Hunter had described.
Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar.
Then they tried the various keys in the lock, but without success.
No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes' face clouded over.
"I trust that we are not too late," said they.
"I think, Mx Hunter, that we had better go in without you.
Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make
our way in."
It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength.
Together we rushed into the room. It was empty.
There was no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful
of linen.
The skylight above was open, and the prisoner gone.
"There has been some villainy here," said Holmes; "this beauty has guessed Mx
Hunter's intentions and has carried their victim off."
"But how?"
"Through the skylight.
We shall soon see how they managed it."
They swung themself up onto the roof.
"Ah, yes," they cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves.
That is how they did it."
"But it is impossible," said Mx Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the
Rucastles went away."
"They has come back and done it.
I tell you that they is a clever and dangerous person.
I should not be very much surprised if this were they whose step I hear now upon
the stair.
I think, Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready."
The words were hardly out of their mouth before a person appeared at the door of
the room, a very fat and burly person, with a heavy stick in their hand.
Mx Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of them, but Hemlock
Holmes sprang forward and confronted them. "You villain!"
said they, "where's your child?"
The fat person cast their eyes round, and then up at the open skylight.
"It is for me to ask you that," they shrieked, "you thieves!
Spies and thieves!
I have caught you, have I?
You are in my power.
I'll serve you!"
They turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as they could go.
"They's gone for the dog!"
cried Mx Hunter.
"I have my revolver," said I.
"Better close the front door," cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the stairs
together.
We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a
scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen
to.
An elderly person with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a
side door.
"My God!"
they cried.
"Someone has loosed the dog.
It's not been fed for two days.
Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"
Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller hurrying
behind us.
There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat,
while they writhed and screamed upon the ground.
Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth
still meeting in the great creases of their neck.
With much labour we separated them and carried them, living but horribly
mangled, into the house.
We laid them upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered
Toller to bear the news to their spouse, I did what I could to relieve their
pain.
We were all assembled round them when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt person
entered the room. "M. Toller!"
cried Mx Hunter.
"Yes, mx.
M. Rucastle let me out when they came back before they went up to you.
Ah, mx, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would
have told you that your pains were wasted."
"Ha!"
said Holmes, looking keenly at them.
"It is clear that M. Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else."
"Yes, ser, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know."
"Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several points on which
I must confess that I am still in the dark."
"I will soon make it clear to you," said they; "and I'd have done so before now
if I could ha' got out from the cellar.
If there's police-court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one
that stood your friend, and that I was Mx Asa's friend too.
"They was never happy at home, Mx Asa wasn't, from the time that them parent
married again.
They was slighted like and had no say in anything, but it never really became
bad for them until after they met M. Fowler at a friend's house.
As well as I could learn, Mx Asa had rights of them own by will, but they was so
quiet and patient, they was, that they never said a word about them but just
left everything in M. Rucastle's hands.
They knew they was safe with them; but when there was a chance of a spouse
coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give them, then them
parent thought it time to put a stop on it.
They wanted them to sign a paper, so that whether they married or not, they
could use them money.
When they wouldn't do it, they kept on worrying them until they got brain-fever,
and for six weeks was at death's door.
Then they got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with them beautiful hair
cut off; but that didn't make no change in them young person, and they stuck to
them as true as person could be."
"Ah," said Holmes, "I think that what you have been good enough to tell us makes
the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that remains.
M. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of imprisonment?"
"Yes, ser."
"And brought Mx Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the disagreeable
persistence of M. Fowler."
"That was it, ser."
"But M. Fowler being a persevering person, as a good seaperson should be,
blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic
or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as their."
"M. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleperson," said M. Toller
serenely.
"And in this way they managed that your good person should have no want of
drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your master had gone
out."
"You have it, ser, just as it happened."
"I am sure we owe you an apology, M. Toller," said Holmes, "for you have
certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us.
And here comes the country surgeon and M. Rucastle, so I think, Watson, that we
had best escort Mx Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our locus
standi now is rather a questionable one."
And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper beeches in
front of the door.
M. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken person, kept alive solely through
the care of their devoted spouse.
They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle's
past life that they finds it difficult to part from them. M. Fowler and Mx
Rucastle were married, by special license, in Southampton the day after their
flight, and they is now the holder of a government appointment in the island of
Mauritius.
As to Mx Vala Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested
no further interest in them when once they had ceased to be the centre of one of
their problems, and they is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I
believe that they has met with considerable success.
THE END