“Tell me,” said Holmes—and I could see by his eyes that he was
much excited—“was this a mere addition to the first or did it
appear to be entirely separate?”
“It was on a different panel of the door.”
“Excellent! This is far the most important of all for our
purpose. It fills me with hopes. Now, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, please
continue your most interesting statement.”
“I have nothing more to say, Mr. Holmes, except that I was angry
with my wife that night for having held me back when I might have
caught the skulking rascal. She said that she feared that I might
come to harm. For an instant it had crossed my mind that perhaps
what she really feared was that _he_ might come to harm, for I
could not doubt that she knew who this man was, and what he meant
by these strange signals. But there is a tone in my wife’s voice,
Mr. Holmes, and a look in her eyes which forbid doubt, and I am
sure that it was indeed my own safety that was in her mind.
There’s the whole case, and now I want your advice as to what I
ought to do. My own inclination is to put half a dozen of my farm
lads in the shrubbery, and when this fellow comes again to give
him such a hiding that he will leave us in peace for the future.”
“I fear it is too deep a case for such simple remedies,” said
Holmes. “How long can you stay in London?”
“I must go back to-day. I would not leave my wife alone all night
for anything. She is very nervous, and begged me to come back.”
“I daresay you are right. But if you could have stopped, I might
possibly have been able to return with you in a day or two.
Meanwhile you will leave me these papers, and I think that it is
very likely that I shall be able to pay you a visit shortly and
to throw some light upon your case.”
Sherlock Holmes preserved his calm professional manner until our
visitor had left us, although it was easy for me, who knew him so
well, to see that he was profoundly excited. The moment that
Hilton Cubitt’s broad back had disappeared through the door my
comrade rushed to the table, laid out all the slips of paper
containing dancing men in front of him, and threw himself into an
intricate and elaborate calculation. For two hours I watched him
as he covered sheet after sheet of paper with figures and
letters, so completely absorbed in his task that he had evidently
forgotten my presence. Sometimes he was making progress and
whistled and sang at his work; sometimes he was puzzled, and
would sit for long spells with a furrowed brow and a vacant eye.
Finally he sprang from his chair with a cry of satisfaction, and
walked up and down the room rubbing his hands together. Then he
wrote a long telegram upon a cable form. “If my answer to this is
as I hope, you will have a very pretty case to add to your
collection, Watson,” said he. “I expect that we shall be able to
go down to Norfolk tomorrow, and to take our friend some very
definite news as to the secret of his annoyance.”
I confess that I was filled with curiosity, but I was aware that
Holmes liked to make his disclosures at his own time and in his
own way, so I waited until it should suit him to take me into his
confidence.
But there was a delay in that answering telegram, and two days of
impatience followed, during which Holmes pricked up his ears at
every ring of the bell. On the evening of the second there came a
letter from Hilton Cubitt. All was quiet with him, save that a
long inscription had appeared that morning upon the pedestal of
the sundial. He inclosed a copy of it, which is here reproduced: