(_By Cunnin Toil._)
No. VII.--THE STOLEN MARCH.
I think I have already mentioned in the course of the articles which I
have consecrated to the life and exploits of PICKLOCK HOLES that this
extraordinary man was unmarried. There was some mystery about certain
love-making episodes in the early stages of his career which nothing
could induce him to talk about. If I ever chanced to mention the
subject of matrimony in his presence, a hard, metallic look came over
his features, and his lips closed with the tightness and vehemence of
a pair of handcuffs. Naturally, I was not encouraged by these symptoms
to pursue the matter. However, from what I have since been able to
glean from other sources, I think I am justified in saying that HOLES
was at one time, while quite a young man, engaged to the daughter of
an eminent church dignitary, a charming girl who united good looks
to a comfortable balance at her bankers. One morning, however, HOLES,
whose mind was constantly occupied in the solution of deep and complex
psychological problems, suddenly startled Miss BELLASYS by informing
her that from certain indications he had concluded that she had two
large moles on the upper portion of her left shoulder-blade. It was in
vain that the unfortunate girl protested with tears in her eyes that
she was ignorant of this disfigurement; that, as a matter of fact,
she had the best reason for believing that no such moles existed,
and that, if they did, it was not her fault, but must be due to a
momentary oversight on the part of her nurse, a woman of excellent
character and sound church principles. HOLES was, as usual,
inexorable.
[Illustration]
"My dearest ANNABELLA," he observed, "I am never mistaken. Within the
last ten minutes while I have been discussing with you my new theory
of clues I have noticed your left eye--the right I cannot see--slowly
close twice, while at the same moment your head drooped on to your
left shoulder. Thus you were twice blind on the left side. Moles, as
we learn, not merely from books on natural history, but from our own
observation, are blind. You have, therefore, two moles on your left
shoulder. The fact is indisputable."
Terrified by this convincing demonstration, poor Miss BELLASYS
released the great detective from his engagement, and retired shortly
afterwards from the world to enrol herself in the ranks of a nursing
sisterhood.
These, I believe, are the facts connected with my friend's
only engagement, and I merely state them here in order that the
deeply-interesting story of his life may be as complete as laborious
and accurate research on my part can make it. It is perhaps not to be
wondered at that the man should have been to some extent soured by the
tragic termination of a love affair which seemed full of the promise
of happiness for all concerned.
But it must not be supposed that the life of PICKLOCK HOLES was
entirely destitute of the domestic joys. He would often tell me when
we met again after an interval during which he had disappeared from my
ken that he had been giving the old folks at home a turn, and that
he felt himself in a measure reinvigorated by the simple and trusting
affection lavished upon him by his family circle. I gathered that this
consisted of his father and mother, Sir AMINADAB and Lady HOLES, his
two younger brothers, curiously named HAYLOFT and SKAIRKROW HOLES, his
widowed sister, Mrs. GUMPSHON, with various children of all ages left
as pledges of affection by the late Colonel GUMPSHON of the Saltshire
Bays, as gallant an officer as ever cleft the head of an Afghan or
lopped an Egyptian in two. Often had I felt, though I had been far too
discreet to express it openly, an ardent desire to become acquainted
with a family which, if I might judge by my friend PICKLOCK, must
be one of the most remarkable in the world for brain power and keen
intelligence. My wish was to be gratified sooner than I looked for.
One evening, as HOLES and I were sitting in my bachelor rooms in
Belgrave Square, there came a sudden knock at the door. We were
smoking, and I remember that HOLES had just been explaining to me that
it was customary to infer an assassin from the odour of Trichinopoly,
whilst a Cabana denoted a man of luxurious habits and unbridled
passions. From Bird's-eye tobacco a direct line of induction, he said,
brought one to a Cabinet Minister, whilst Cavendish in its uncut
stage led to a mixture of a smuggler, a Methodist minister, and a
club-proprietor in reduced circumstances. I was marvelling at the
singular acumen of the man when, as I say, there came a tap at the
door, which interrupted our discussions. The door then slowly opened,
and a small female child, of a preternaturally sharp expression, slid,
as it were, inductively into the room. It was the youthful ISABEL
GUMPSHON, one of HOLES'S nieces. "All right, ISABEL," said the great
detective, "we will come with you;" and in another moment a swift
four-wheeler was conveying us to Fitzjohn's Avenue, where Sir AMINADAB
and his lady had their dwelling-place.
No sooner had we arrived than I felt that we were indeed in a home of
mystery, to which the Egyptian Hall of Messrs. MASKELYNE and COOKE was
a mere baby. There was in the air a heavy odour of detection, a sort
of clinging mist of inductive argument, a vaporous emanation of crimes
logically discovered and inferentially revealed, a pervading miasma
of obtuse police-inspectors relieved by complimentary magistrates and
eulogistic judges. The description may seem highly-coloured, but it
represents with literal accuracy the impression made upon my mind by
my entrance into the ancestral mansion of the HOLES family. Nor
was this impression removed as we ascended the stairs. On the first
landing we found Mrs. GUMPSHON engaged in teaching her youngest boy,
AUGUSTUS O'BRIEN GUMPSHON, a correct system of guess-work. The boy, a
bright little fellow of five, was at that moment in disgrace. He had
courageously attempted to guess his mother's age, and having in an
excess of rashness fixed the figure at forty-two, he had been severely
punished, and was at that moment languishing in a corner of the
landing. In the drawing-room we found the rest of the family. Sir
AMINADAB, it appeared, had murdered the footman some ten minutes
before our arrival, and had contrived by the aid of a pair
of blood-stained braces, which were one of his most cherished
possessions, to fix the guilt upon Lady HOLES, in whose basket-trunk,
moreover, the dismembered body of the unfortunate menial had been
discovered by the cook. The ingenuity of this diabolical plot had for
some nine minutes baffled the whole family. Lady HOLES was just about
to resign herself to the inevitable arrest, when HAYLOFT HOLES, with
an appearance of calm nonchalance, eminently suited to his impassive
features, had produced from his father's waistcoat pocket two of
the unfortunate footman's silver buttons, and had thus convicted Sir
AMINADAB of the crime. As we entered the drawing-room we were almost
overwhelmed with the shouts of joy that welcomed this wonderful
exhibition of the family talent. SKAIRKROW HOLES, who was of a more
reflective turn of mind, had, it seemed, been looking out of the
window at the passers-by, and had just proved triumphantly to his
youngest niece, JEMIMA, that a man whom she had taken for a vendor
of cat's meat was in reality a director of a building society who
had defrauded the miserable investors of fifty-two thousand pounds,
eighteen shillings, and ninepence halfpenny. It was into this happy
family party that HOLES and I, led by ISABEL GUMPSHON, intruded on the
memorable evening of which I speak.
(_To be continued._)
NOTE.--There are, it seems, rumours about to the effect that
my marvellous friend, PICKLOCK HOLES, is dead. Some even go
so far as to assert that he never existed. I leave these two
factions to fight the matter out. If he is dead he must have
existed; if he never existed he cannot have died. This shows
the folly of relying on rumour.--SAMUEL POTSON.
* * * * *