panelling, and a fine array of deer's heads and ancient weapons around
the walls. At the further end from the door was the high French window
of which we had heard. Three smaller windows on the right-hand side
filled the apartment with cold winter sunshine. On the left was a large,
deep fireplace, with a massive, overhanging oak mantelpiece. Beside the
fireplace was a heavy oaken chair with arms and crossbars at the bottom.
In and out through the open woodwork was woven a crimson cord, which was
secured at each side to the crosspiece below. In releasing the lady, the
cord had been slipped off her, but the knots with which it had been
secured still remained. These details only struck our attention
afterwards, for our thoughts were entirely absorbed by the terrible
object which lay upon the tiger-skin heathrug in front of the fire.
It was the body of a tall, well-made man, about forty years of age. He
lay upon his back, his face upturned, with his white teeth grinning
through his short, black beard. His two clenched hands were raised above
his head, and a heavy, blackthorn stick lay across them. His dark,
handsome, aquiline features were convulsed into a spasm of vindictive
hatred, which had set his dead face in a terribly fiendish expression.
He had evidently been in his bed when the alarm had broken out, for he
wore a foppish, embroidered nightshirt, and his bare feet projected from
his trousers. His head was horribly injured, and the whole room bore
witness to the savage ferocity of the blow which had struck him down.
Beside him lay the heavy poker, bent into a curve by the concussion.
Holmes examined both it and the indescribable wreck which it had
wrought.
'He must be a powerful man, this elder Randall,' he remarked.
'Yes,' said Hopkins. 'I have some record of the fellow, and he is a
rough customer.'
'You should have no difficulty in getting him.'
'Not the slightest. We have been on the look-out for him, and there was
some idea that he had got away to America. Now that we know that the
gang are here, I don't see how they can escape. We have the news at
every seaport already, and a reward will be offered before evening. What
beats me is how they could have done so mad a thing, knowing that the
lady could describe them and that we could not fail to recognize the
description.'
'Exactly. One would have expected that they would silence Lady
Brackenstall as well.'
'They may not have realized,' I suggested, 'that she had recovered from
her faint.'
'That is likely enough. If she seemed to be senseless, they would not
take her life. What about this poor fellow, Hopkins? I seem to have
heard some queer stories about him.'
'He was a good-hearted man when he was sober, but a perfect fiend when
he was drunk, or rather when he was half drunk, for he seldom really
went the whole way. The devil seemed to be in him at such times, and he
was capable of anything. From what I hear, in spite of all his wealth
and his title, he very nearly came our way once or twice. There was a
scandal about his drenching a dog with petroleum and setting it on
fire--her ladyship's dog, to make the matter worse--and that was only
hushed up with difficulty. Then he threw a decanter at that maid,
Theresa Wright--there was trouble about that. On the whole, and between
ourselves, it will be a brighter house without him. What are you looking
at now?'
Holmes was down on his knees, examining with great attention the knots
upon the red cord with which the lady had been secured. Then he
carefully scrutinized the broken and frayed end where it had snapped
off when the burglar had dragged it down.
'When this was pulled down, the bell in the kitchen must have rung
loudly,' he remarked.
'No one could hear it. The kitchen stands right at the back of the
house.'
'How did the burglar know no one would hear it? How dared he pull at a
bell-rope in that reckless fashion?'
'Exactly, Mr. Holmes, exactly. You put the very question which I have
asked myself again and again. There can be no doubt that this fellow
must have known the house and its habits. He must have perfectly
understood that the servants would all be in bed at that comparatively
early hour, and that no one could possibly hear a bell ring in the
kitchen. Therefore, he must have been in close league with one of the
servants. Surely that is evident. But there are eight servants, and all
of good character.'
'Other things being equal,' said Holmes, 'one would suspect the one
at whose head the master threw a decanter. And yet that would involve
treachery towards the mistress to whom this woman seems devoted. Well,
well, the point is a minor one, and when you have Randall you will
probably find no difficulty in securing his accomplice. The lady's story
certainly seems to be corroborated, if it needed corroboration, by every
detail which we see before us.' He walked to the French window and threw
it open. 'There are no signs here, but the ground is iron hard, and one
would not expect them. I see that these candles in the mantelpiece have
been lighted.'
'Yes, it was by their light, and that of the lady's bedroom candle, that
the burglars saw their way about.'
'And what did they take?'
'Well, they did not take much--only half a dozen articles of plate off
the sideboard. Lady Brackenstall thinks that they were themselves so
disturbed by the death of Sir Eustace that they did not ransack the
house, as they would otherwise have done.'
'No doubt that is true, and yet they drank some wine, I understand.'
To steady their nerves.'
'Exactly. These three glasses upon the sideboard have been untouched, I
suppose?'
'Yes, and the bottle stands as they left it.'
'Let us look at it. Halloa, halloa! What is this?'
The three glasses were grouped together, all of them tinged with wine,
and one of them containing some dregs of beeswing. The bottle stood near
them, two-thirds full, and beside it lay a long, deeply stained cork.
Its appearance and the dust upon the bottle showed that it was no common
vintage which the murderers had enjoyed.
A change had come over Holmes's manner. He had lost his listless
expression, and again I saw an alert light of interest in his keen,
deepset eyes. He raised the cork and examined it minutely.
'How did they draw it?' he asked.
Hopkins pointed to a half-opened drawer. In it lay some table linen and
a large corkscrew.
'Did Lady Brackenstall say that screw was used?'
'No, you remember that she was senseless at the moment when the bottle
was opened.'
'Quite so. As a matter of fact, that screw was _not_ used. This bottle
was opened by a pocket screw, probably contained in a knife, and not
more than an inch and a half long. If you will examine the top of the
cork, you will observe that the screw was driven in three times before
the cork was extracted. It has never been transfixed. This long screw
would have transfixed it and drawn it up with a single pull. When you
catch this fellow, you will find that he has one of these multiplex
knives in his possession.'
'Excellent!' said Hopkins.
'But these glasses do puzzle me, I confess. Lady Brackenstall actually
_saw_ the three men drinking, did she not?'
'Yes; she was clear about that.'
'Then there is an end of it. What more is to be said? And yet, you must
admit, that the three glasses are very remarkable, Hopkins. What? You
see nothing remarkable? Well, well, let it pass. Perhaps, when a man has
special knowledge and special powers like my own, it rather encourages
him to seek a complex explanation when a simpler one is at hand. Of
course, it must be a mere chance about the glasses. Well, good-morning,
Hopkins. I don't see that I can be of any use to you, and you appear to
have your case very clear. You will let me know when Randall is
arrested, and any further developments which may occur. I trust that I
shall soon have to congratulate you upon a successful conclusion. Come,
Watson, I fancy that we may employ ourselves more profitably at home.'
During our return journey, I could see by Holmes's face that he was much
puzzled by something which he had observed. Every now and then, by an
effort, he would throw off the impression, and talk as if the matter
were clear, but then his doubts would settle down upon him again, and
his knitted brows and abstracted eyes would show that his thoughts had
gone back once more to the great dining-room of the Abbey Grange, in
which this midnight tragedy had been enacted. At last, by a sudden
impulse, just as our train was crawling out of a suburban station, he
sprang on to the platform and pulled me out after him.
'Excuse me, my dear fellow,' said he, as we watched the rear carriages
of our train disappearing round a curve, 'I am sorry to make you the
victim of what may seem a mere whim, but on my life, Watson, I simply
_can't_ leave that case in this condition. Every instinct that I possess
cries out against it. It's wrong--it's all wrong--I'll swear that it's
wrong. And yet the lady's story was complete, the maid's corroboration
was sufficient, the detail was fairly exact. What have I to put up
against that? Three wineglasses, that is all. But if I had not taken
things for granted, if I had examined everything with care which I
should have shown had we approached the case _de novo_ and had no
cut-and-dried story to warp my mind, should I not then have found
something more definite to go upon? Of course I should. Sit down on this
bench, Watson, until a train for Chislehurst arrives, and allow me to
lay the evidence before you, imploring you in the first instance to
dismiss from your mind the idea that anything which the maid or her
mistress may have said must necessarily be true. The lady's charming
personality must not be permitted to warp our judgment.
'Surely there are details in her story which, if we looked at in cold
blood, would excite our suspicion. These burglars made a considerable
haul at Sydenham a fortnight ago. Some account of them and of their
appearance was in the papers, and would naturally occur to anyone who
wished to invent a story in which imaginary robbers should play a part.
As a matter of fact, burglars who have done a good stroke of business
are, as a rule, only too glad to enjoy the proceeds in peace and quiet
without embarking on another perilous undertaking. Again, it is unusual
for burglars to operate at so early an hour, it is unusual for burglars
to strike a lady to prevent her screaming, since one would imagine that
was the sure way to make her scream, it is unusual for them to commit
murder when their numbers are sufficient to overpower one man, it is
unusual for them to be content with a limited plunder when there was
much more within their reach, and finally, I should say, that it was
very unusual for such men to leave a bottle half empty. How do all these
unusuals strike you, Watson?'
'Their cumulative effect is certainly considerable, and yet each of them
is quite possible in itself. The most unusual thing of all, as it seems
to me, is that the lady should be tied to the chair.'
'Well, I am not so clear about that, Watson, for it is evident that
they must either kill her or else secure her in such a way that she
could not give immediate notice of their escape. But at any rate I have
shown, have I not, that there is a certain element of improbability
about the lady's story? And now, on the top of this, comes the incident
of the wineglasses.'
'What about the wineglasses?'
'Can you see them in your mind's eye?'
'I see them clearly.'
'We are told that three men drank from them. Does that strike you as
likely?'
'Why not? There was wine in each glass.'
'Exactly, but there was beeswing only in one glass. You must have
noticed that fact. What does that suggest to your mind?'
'The last glass filled would be most likely to contain beeswing.'
'Not at all. The bottle was full of it, and it is inconceivable that the
first two glasses were clear and the third heavily charged with it.
There are two possible explanations, and only two. One is that after the
second glass was filled the bottle was violently agitated, and so the
third glass received the beeswing. That does not appear probable. No,
no, I am sure that I am right.'
'What, then, do you suppose?'
'That only two glasses were used, and that the dregs of both were poured
into a third glass, so as to give the false impression that three people
had been here. In that way all the beeswing would be in the last glass,
would it not? Yes, I am convinced that this is so. But if I have hit
upon the true explanation of this one small phenomenon, then in an
instant the case rises from the commonplace to the exceedingly
remarkable, for it can only mean that Lady Brackenstall and her maid
have deliberately lied to us, that not one word of their story is to be
believed, that they have some very strong reason for covering the real
criminal, and that we must construct our case for ourselves without any
help from them. That is the mission which now lies before us, and here,
Watson, is the Sydenham train.'
The household at the Abbey Grange were much surprised at our return, but
Sherlock Holmes, finding that Stanley Hopkins had gone off to report to
headquarters, took possession of the dining-room, locked the door upon
the inside, and devoted himself for two hours to one of those minute
and laborious investigations which form the solid basis on which his
brilliant edifices of deduction were reared. Seated in a corner like an
interested student who observes the demonstration of his professor, I
followed every step of that remarkable research. The window, the
curtains, the carpet, the chair, the rope--each in turn was minutely
examined and duly pondered. The body of the unfortunate baronet had been
removed, and all else remained as we had seen it in the morning.
Finally, to my astonishment, Holmes climbed up on to the massive
mantelpiece. Far above his head hung the few inches of red cord which
were still attached to the wire. For a long time he gazed upward at it,
and then in an attempt to get nearer to it he rested his knee upon a
wooden bracket on the wall. This brought his hand within a few inches of
the broken end of the rope, but it was not this so much as the bracket
itself which seemed to engage his attention. Finally, he sprang down
with an ejaculation of satisfaction.
'It's all right, Watson,' said he. 'We have got our case--one of the
most remarkable in our collection. But, dear me, how slow-witted I have
been, and how nearly I have committed the blunder of my lifetime! Now, I
think that, with a few missing links, my chain is almost complete.'
'You have got your men?'
'Man, Watson, man. Only one, but a very formidable person. Strong as a
lion--witness the blow that bent that poker! Six foot three in height,
active as a squirrel, dexterous with his fingers, finally, remarkably
quick-witted, for this whole ingenious story is of his concoction. Yes,
Watson, we have come upon the handiwork of a very remarkable individual.
And yet, in that bell-rope, he has given us a clue which should not have
left us a doubt.'
'Where was the clue?'
'Well, if you were to pull down a bell-rope, Watson, where would you
expect it to break? Surely at the spot where it is attached to the wire.
Why should it break three inches from the top, as this one has done?'
'Because it is frayed there?'
'Exactly. This end, which we can examine, is frayed. He was cunning
enough to do that with his knife. But the other end is not frayed. You
could not observe that from here, but if you were on the mantelpiece
you would see that it is cut clean off without any mark of fraying
whatever. You can reconstruct what occurred. The man needed the rope. He
would not tear it down for fear of giving the alarm by ringing the bell.
What did he do? He sprang up on the mantelpiece, could not quite reach
it, put his knee on the bracket--you will see the impression in the
dust--and so got his knife to bear upon the cord. I could not reach the
place by at least three inches--from which I infer that he is at least
three inches a bigger man than I. Look at that mark upon the seat of the
oaken chair! What is it?'
'Blood.'
'Undoubtedly it is blood. This alone puts the lady's story out of court.
If she were seated on the chair when the crime was done, how comes that
mark? No, no, she was placed in the chair _after_ the death of her
husband. I'll wager that the black dress shows a corresponding mark to
this. We have not yet met our Waterloo, Watson, but this is our Marengo,
for it begins in defeat and ends in victory. I should like now to have
a few words with the nurse, Theresa. We must be wary for a while, if we
are to get the information which we want.'
She was an interesting person, this stern Australian nurse--taciturn,
suspicious, ungracious, it took some time before Holmes's pleasant
manner and frank acceptance of all that she said thawed her into a
corresponding amiability. She did not attempt to conceal her hatred for
her late employer.
'Yes, sir, it is true that he threw the decanter at me. I heard him call
my mistress a name, and I told him that he would not dare to speak so if
her brother had been there. Then it was that he threw it at me. He might
have thrown a dozen if he had but left my bonny bird alone. He was
forever ill-treating her, and she too proud to complain. She will not
even tell me all that he has done to her. She never told me of those
marks on her arm that you saw this morning, but I know very well that
they come from a stab with a hatpin. The sly devil--God forgive me that
I should speak of him so, now that he is dead! But a devil he was, if
ever one walked the earth. He was all honey when first we met him--only
eighteen months ago, and we both feel as if it were eighteen years. She
had only just arrived in London. Yes, it was her first voyage--she had
never been from home before. He won her with his title and his money
and his false London ways. If she made a mistake she has paid for it,
if ever a woman did. What month did we meet him? Well, I tell you it was
just after we arrived. We arrived in June, and it was July. They were
married in January of last year. Yes, she is down in the morning-room
again, and I have no doubt she will see you, but you must not ask too
much of her, for she has gone through all that flesh and blood will
stand.'
Lady Brackenstall was reclining on the same couch, but looked brighter
than before. The maid had entered with us, and began once more to foment
the bruise upon her mistress's brow.
'I hope,' said the lady, 'that you have not come to cross-examine me
again?'
'No,' Holmes answered, in his gentlest voice. 'I will not cause you any
unnecessary trouble, Lady Brackenstall, and my whole desire is to make
things easy for you, for I am convinced that you are a much-tried woman.
If you will treat me as a friend and trust me, you may find that I will
justify your trust.'
'What do you want me to do?'
'To tell me the truth.'
'Mr. Holmes!'
'No, no, Lady Brackenstall--it is no use. You may have heard of any
little reputation which I possess. I will stake it all on the fact that
your story is an absolute fabrication.'
Mistress and maid were both staring at Holmes with pale faces and
frightened eyes.
'You are an impudent fellow!' cried Theresa. 'Do you mean to say that my
mistress has told a lie?'
Holmes rose from his chair.
'Have you nothing to tell me?'
'I have told you everything.'
'Think once more, Lady Brackenstall. Would it not be better to be
frank?'
For an instant there was hesitation in her beautiful face. Then some new
strong thought caused it to set like a mask.
'I have told you all I know.'
Holmes took his hat and shrugged his shoulders. 'I am sorry,' he said,
and without another word we left the room and the house. There was a
pond in the park, and to this my friend led the way. It was frozen over,
but a single hole was left for the convenience of a solitary swan.
Holmes gazed at it, and then passed on to the lodge gate. There he
scribbled a short note for Stanley Hopkins, and left it with the
lodge-keeper.
'It may be a hit, or it may be a miss, but we are bound to do something
for friend Hopkins, just to justify this second visit,' said he. 'I will
not quite take him into my confidence yet. I think our next scene of
operations must be the shipping office of the Adelaide-Southampton line,
which stands at the end of Pall Mall, if I remember right. There is a
second line of steamers which connect South Australia with England, but
we will draw the larger cover first.'
Holmes's card sent in to the manager ensured instant attention, and he
was not long in acquiring all the information he needed. In June of '95,
only one of their line had reached a home port. It was the _Rock of
Gibraltar_, their largest and best boat. A reference to the passenger
list showed that Miss Fraser, of Adelaide, with her maid had made the
voyage in her. The boat was now somewhere south of the Suez Canal on her
way to Australia. Her officers were the same as in '95, with one
exception. The first officer, Mr. Jack Crocker, had been made a captain
and was to take charge of their new ship, the _Bass Rock_, sailing in
two days' time from Southampton. He lived at Sydenham, but he was likely
to be in that morning for instructions, if we cared to wait for him.
No, Mr. Holmes had no desire to see him, but would be glad to know more
about his record and character.
His record was magnificent. There was not an officer in the fleet to
touch him. As to his character, he was reliable on duty, but a wild,
desperate fellow off the deck of his ship--hot-headed, excitable, but
loyal, honest, and kind-hearted. That was the pith of the information
with which Holmes left the office of the Adelaide-Southampton company.
Thence he drove to Scotland Yard, but, instead of entering, he sat in
his cab with his brows drawn down, lost in profound thought. Finally he
drove round to the Charing Cross telegraph office, sent off a message,
and then, at last, we made for Baker Street once more.
'No, I couldn't do it, Watson,' said he, as we re-entered our room.
'Once that warrant was made out, nothing on earth would save him. Once
or twice in my career I feel that I have done more real harm by my
discovery of the criminal than ever he had done by his crime. I have
learned caution now, and I had rather play tricks with the law of
England than with my own conscience. Let us know a little more before
We act.'
Before evening, we had a visit from Inspector Stanley Hopkins. Things
were not going very well with him.
'I believe that you are a wizard, Mr. Holmes. I really do sometimes
think that you have powers that are not human. Now, how on earth could
you know that the stolen silver was at the bottom of that pond?'
'I didn't know it.'
'But you told me to examine it.'
'You got it, then?'
'Yes, I got it.'
'I am very glad if I have helped you.'
'But you haven't helped me. You have made the affair far more difficult.
What sort of burglars are they who steal silver and then throw it into
the nearest pond?'
'It was certainly rather eccentric behaviour. I was merely going on
the idea that if the silver had been taken by persons who did not want
it--who merely took it for a blind, as it were--then they would
naturally be anxious to get rid of it.'
'But why should such an idea cross your mind?'
'Well, I thought it was possible. When they came out through the French
window, there was the pond with one tempting little hole in the ice,
right in front of their noses. Could there be a better hiding-place?'
'Ah, a hiding-place--that is better!' cried Stanley Hopkins. 'Yes, yes,
I see it all now! It was early, there were folk upon the roads, they
were afraid of being seen with the silver, so they sank it in the pond,
intending to return for it when the coast was clear. Excellent, Mr.
Holmes--that is better than your idea of a blind.'
'Quite so, you have got an admirable theory. I have no doubt that my own
ideas were quite wild, but you must admit that they have ended in
discovering the silver.'
'Yes, sir--yes. It was all your doing. But I have had a bad setback.'
'A setback?'
'Yes, Mr. Holmes. The Randall gang were arrested in New York this
morning.'
'Dear me, Hopkins! That is certainly rather against your theory that
they committed a murder in Kent last night.'
'It is fatal, Mr. Holmes--absolutely fatal. Still, there are other gangs
of three besides the Randalls, or it may be some new gang of which the
police have never heard,'
'Quite so, it is perfectly possible. What, are you off?'
'Yes, Mr. Holmes, there is no rest for me until I have got to the bottom
of the business. I suppose you have no hint to give me?'
'I have given you one.'
'Which?'
'Well, I suggested a blind.'
'But why, Mr. Holmes, why?'
'Ah, that's the question, of course. But I commend the idea to your
mind. You might possibly find that there was something in it. You won't
stop for dinner? Well, goodbye, and let us know how you get on.'