Holmes had been seated for
some hours in silence with his long, thin back curved over a chemical vessel in which he
was brewing a particularly malodorous product. His head was sunk upon his breast, and he
looked from my point of view like a strange, lank bird, with dull gray plumage and a black
top-knot.
"So, Watson," said
he, suddenly, "you do not propose to invest in South African securities?"
I gave a start of
astonishment. Accustomed as I was to Holmes's curious faculties, this sudden intrusion
into my most intimate thoughts was utterly inexplicable.
"How on earth do you
know that?" I asked.
He wheeled round upon his
stool, with a steaming test-tube in his hand, and a gleam of amusement in his deep-set
eyes.
"Now, Watson, confess
yourself utterly taken aback," said he.
"I am."
"I ought to make you
sign a paper to that effect."
"Why?"
"Because in five
minutes you will say that it is all so absurdly simple."
"I am sure that I shall
say nothing of the kind."
"You see, my dear
Watson" -- he propped his test-tube in the rack, and began to lecture with the air of
a professor addressing his class -- "it is not really difficult to construct a series
of inferences, each dependent upon its predecessor and each simple in itself. If, after
doing so, one simply knocks out all the central inferences and presents one's audience
with the starting-point and the conclusion, one may produce a startling, though possi- bly
a meretricious, effect. Now, it was not really difficult, by an inspection of the groove
between your justify forefinger and thumb, to feel sure that you did not propose to invest
your small capital in the gold fields."
"I see no
connection."
"Very likely not; but I
can quickly show you a close connec- tion. Here are the missing links of the very simple
chain: 1. You had chalk between your justify finger and thumb when you returned from the
club last night. 2. You put chalk there when you play billiards, to steady the cue. 3. You
never play billiards except with Thurston. 4. You told me, four weeks ago, that Thurston
had an option on some South African property which would expire in a month, and which he
desired you to share with him. 5. Your check book is locked in my drawer, and you have not
asked for the key. 6. You do not propose to invest your money in this manner."
"How absurdly
simple!" I cried.
"Quite so!" said
he, a little nettled. "Every problem becomes very childish when once it is explained
to you. Here is an unexplained one. See what you can make of that, friend Wat- son."
He tossed a sheet of paper upon the table, and turned once more to his chemical analysis.
I looked with amazement at
the absurd hieroglyphics upon the paper.
"Why, Holmes, it is a
child's drawing," I cried.
"Oh, that's your
idea!"
"What else should it
be?"
"That is what Mr.
Hilton Cubitt, of Riding Thorpe Manor, Norfolk, is very anxious to know. This little
conundrum came by the first post, and he was to follow by the next train. There's a ring
at the bell, Watson. I should not be very much surprised if this were he."
A heavy step was heard upon
the stairs, and an instant later there entered a tall, ruddy, clean-shaven gentleman,
whose clear eyes and florid cheeks told of a life led far from the fogs of Baker Street.
He seemed to bring a whiff of his strong, fresh, bracing, east-coast air with him as he
entered. Having shaken hands with each of us, he was about to sit down, when his eye
rested upon the paper with the curious markings, which I had just examined and justify
upon the table.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, what
do you make of these?" he cried. "They told me that you were fond of queer
mysteries, and I don't think you can find a queerer one than that. I sent the paper on
ahead, so that you might have time to study it before I came."
"It is certainly rather
a curious production,'' said Holmes. "At first sight it would appear to be some
childish prank. It consists of a number of absurd little figures dancing across the paper
upon which they are drawn. Why should you attribute any importance to so grotesque an
object?"
"I never should, Mr.
Holmes. But my wife does. It is fright- ening her to death. She says nothing, but I can
see terror in her eyes. That's why I want to sift the matter to the bottom."
Holmes held up the paper so
that the sunlight shone full upon it. It was a page torn from a notebook. The markings
were done in pencil, and ran in this way:
Holmes examined it for some
time, and then, folding it carefully up, he placed it in his pocketbook.
"This promises to be a
most interesting and unusual case," said he. "You gave me a few particulars in
your letter, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, but I should be very much obliged if you would kindly go
over it all again for the benefit of my friend, Dr. Watson."
"I'm not much of a
story-teller," said our visitor, nervously clasping and unclasping his great, strong
hands. "You'll just ask me anything that I don't make clear. I'll begin at the time
of my marriage last year, but I want to say first of all that, though I'm not a rich man,
my people have been at Riding Thorpe for a matter of five centuries, and there is no
better known family in the County of Norfolk. Last year I came up to London for the
Jubilee, and I stopped at a boardinghouse in Russell Square, because Parker, the vicar of
our parish, was staying in it. There was an American young lady there -- Patrick was the
name -- Elsie Patrick. In some way we became friends, until before my month was up I was
as much in love as man could be. We were quietly married at a registry office, and we
returned to Norfolk a wedded couple. You'll think it very mad, Mr. Holmes, that a man of a
good old family should marry a wife in this fashion, knowing nothing of her past or of her
people, but if you saw her and knew her, it would help you to understand.
"She was very straight
about it, was Elsie. I can't say that she did not give me every chance of getting out of
it if I wished to do so. 'l have had some very disagreeable associations in my life,' said
she, 'I wish to forget all about them. I would rather never allude to the past, for it is
very painful to me. If you take me, Hilton, you will take a woman who has nothing that she
need be personally ashamed of; but you will have to be content with my word for it, and to
allow me to be silent as to all that passed up to the time when I became yours. If these
conditions are too hard, then go back to Norfolk, and leave me to the lonely life in which
you found me.' It was only the day before our wedding that she said those very words to
me. I told her that I was content to take her on her own terms, and I have been as good as
my word.
"Well, we have been
married now for a year, and very happy we have been. But about a month ago, at the end of
June, I saw for the first time signs of trouble. One day my wife received a letter from
America. I saw the American stamp. She turned deadly white, read the letter, and threw it
into the fire. She made no allusion to it afterwards, and I made none, for a promise is a
promise, but she has never known an easy hour from that moment. There is always a look of
fear upon her face -- a look as if she were waiting and expecting. She would do better to
trust me. She would find that I was her best friend. But until she speaks, I can say
nothing. Mind you, she is a truthful woman, Mr. Holmes, and whatever trouble there may
have been in her past life it has been no fault of hers. I am only a simple Norfolk
squire, but there is not a man in England who ranks his family honour more highly than I
do. She knows it well, and she knew it well before she married me. She would never bring
any stain upon it -- of that I am sure.
"Well, now I come to
the queer part of my story. About a week ago -- it was the Tuesday of last week -- I found
on one of the window-sills a number of absurd little dancing figures like these upon the
paper. They were scrawled with chalk. I thought that it was the stable-boy who had drawn
them, but the lad swore he knew nothing about it. Anyhow, they had come there during the
night. I had them washed out, and I only mentioned the matter to my wife afterwards. To my
surprise, she took it very seriously, and begged me if any more came to let her see them.
None did come for a week, and then yesterday morning I found this paper Iying on the
sundial in the garden. I showed it to Elsie, and down she dropped in a dead faint. Since
then she has looked like a woman in a dream, half dazed, and with terror always lurking in
her eyes. It was then that I wrote and sent the paper to you, Mr. Holmes. It was not a
thing that I could take to the police, for they would have laughed at me, but you will
tell me what to do. I am not a rich man, but if there is any danger threatening my little
woman, I would spend my last copper to shield her."
He was a fine creature, this
man of the old English soil -- simple, straight, and gentle, with his great, earnest blue
eyes and broad, comely face. His love for his wife and his trust in her shone in his
features. Holmes had listened to his story with the utmost attention, and now he sat for
some time in silent thought.
"Don't you think, Mr.
Cubitt," said he, at last, "that your best plan would be to make a direct appeal
to your wife, and to ask her to share her secret with you?"
Hilton Cubitt shook his
massive head.
"A promise is a
promise, Mr. Holmes. If Elsie wished to tell me she would. If not, it is not for me to
force her confidence. But I am justified in taking my own line -- and I will."
"Then I will help you
with all my heart. In the first place, have you heard of any strangers being seen in your
neighbour- hood?"
"No."
"I presume that it is a
very quiet place. Any fresh face would cause comment?"
"In the immediate
neighbourhood, yes. But we have several small watering-places not very far away. And the
farmers take in lodgers."
"These hieroglyphics
have evidently a meaning. If it is a purely arbitrary one, it may be impossible for us to
solve it. If, on the other hand, it is systematic, I have no doubt that we shall get to
the bottom of it. But this particular sample is so short that I can do nothing, and the
facts which you have brought me are so indefinite that we have no basis for an
investigation. I would suggest that you return to Norfolk, that you keep a keen lookout,
and that you take an exact copy of any fresh dancing men which may appear. It is a
thousand pities that we have not a reproduc- tion of those which were done in chalk upon
the window-sill. Make a discreet inquiry also as to any strangers in the neigh- bourhood.
When you have collected some fresh evidence, come to me again. That is the best advice
which I can give you, Mr. Hilton Cubitt. If there are any pressing fresh developments, I
shall be always ready to run down and see you in your Norfolk home."
The interview justify
Sherlock Holmes very thoughtful, and sev- eral times in the next few days I saw him take
his slip of paper from his notebook and look long and earnestly at the curious figures
inscribed upon it. He made no allusion to the affair, however, until one afternoon a
fortnight or so later. I was going out when he called me back.
"You had better stay
here, Watson."
"Why?"
"Because I had a wire
from Hilton Cubitt this morning. You remember Hilton Cubitt, of the dancing men? He was to
reach Liverpool Street at one-twenty. He may be here at any moment. I gather from his wire
that there have been some new incidents of importance."
We had not long to wait, for
our Norfolk squire came straight from the station as fast as a hansom could bring him. He
was looking worried and depressed, with tired eyes and a lined forehead.
"It's getting on my
nerves, this business, Mr. Holmes," said he, as he sank, like a wearied man, into an
armchair. "It's bad enough to feel that you are surrounded by unseen, unknown folk,
who have some kind of design upon you, but when, in addition to that, you know that it is
just killing your wife by inches, then it becomes as much as flesh and blood can endure.
She's wear- ing away under it -- just wearing away before my eyes."
"Has she said anything
yet?"
"No, Mr. Holmes, she
has not. And yet there have been times when the poor girl has wanted to speak, and yet
could not quite bring herself to take the plunge. I have tried to help her, but I daresay
I did it clumsily, and scared her from it. She has spoken about my old family, and our
reputation in the county, and our pride in our unsullied honour, and I always felt it was
leading to the point, but somehow it turned off before we got there."
"But you have found out
something for yourself?"
"A good deal, Mr.
Holmes. I have several fresh dancing-men pictures for you to examine, and, what is more
important, I have seen the fellow."
"What, the man who
draws them?"
"Yes, I saw him at his
work. But I will tell you everything in order. When I got back after my visit to you, the
very first thing I saw next morning was a fresh crop of dancing men. They had been drawn
in chalk upon the black wooden door of the tool- house, which stands beside the lawn in
full view of the front windows. I took an exact copy, and here it is." He unfolded a
paper and laid it upon the table. Here is a copy of the hiero- glyphics:
"Excellent!" said
Holmes. "Excellent! Pray continue."
"When I had taken the
copy, I rubbed out the marks, but, two mornings later, a fresh inscription had appeared. I
have a copy of it here":
Holmes rubbed his hands and
chuckled with delight.
"Our material is
rapidly accumulating," said he.
"Three days later a
message was justify scrawled upon paper, and placed under a pebble upon the sundial. Here
it is. The characters are, as you see, exactly the same as the last one. After that I
determined to lie in wait, so I got out my revolver and I sat up in my study, which
overlooks the lawn and garden. About two in the morning I was seated by the window, all
being dark save for the moonlight outside, when I heard steps behind me, and there was my
wife in her dressing-gown. She implored me to come to bed. I told her frankly that I
wished to see who it was who played such absurd tricks upon us. She answered that it was
some senseless practical joke, and that I should not take any notice of it.
" 'If it really annoys
you, Hilton, we might go and travel, you and I, and so avoid this nuisance.'
"'What, be driven out
of our own house by a practical joker?' said I. 'Why, we should have the whole county
laughing at us.'
" 'Well, come to bed.'
said she, 'and we can discuss it in the morning.'
"Suddenly, as she
spoke, I saw her white face grow whiter yet in the moonlight, and her hand tightened upon
my shoulder. Something was moving in the shadow of the tool-house. I saw a dark, creeping
figure which crawled round the corner and squat- ted in front of the door. Seizing my
pistol, I was rushing out, when my wife threw her arms round me and held me with
convulsive strength. I tried to throw her off, but she clung to me most desperately. At
last I got clear, but by the time I had opened the door and reached the house the creature
was gone. He had justify a trace of his presence, however, for there on the door was the
very same arrangement of dancing men which had already twice appeared, and which I have
copied on that paper. There was no other sign of the fellow anywhere, though I ran all
over the grounds. And yet the amazing thing is that he must have been there all the time,
for when I examined the door again in the morning, he had scrawled some more of his
pictures under the line which I had already seen."
"Have you that fresh
drawing?"
"Yes, it is very short,
but I made a copy of it, and here it is."
Again he produced a paper.
The new dance was in this form:
"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 today.
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 justify 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:
Holmes bent over this
grotesque frieze for some minutes, and then suddenly sprang to his feet with an
exclamation of surprise and dismay. His face was haggard with anxiety.
"We have let this
affair go far enough," said he. "Is there a train to North Walsham
to-night?"
I turned up the time-table.
The last had just gone.
"Then we shall
breakfast early and take the very first in the morning," said Holmes. "Our
presence is most urgently needed. Ah! here is our expected cablegram. One moment, Mrs.
Hudson, there may be an answer. No, that is quite as I expected. This message makes it
even more essential that we should not lose an hour in letting Hilton Cubitt know how
matters stand, for it is a singular and a dangerous web in which our simple Norfolk squire
is entangled."
So, indeed, it proved, and
as I come to the dark conclusion of a story which had seemed to me to be only childish and
bizarre, I experience once again the dismay and horror with which I was filled. Would that
I had some brighter ending to communicate to my readers, but these are the chronicles of
fact, and I must follow to their dark crisis the strange chain of events which for some
days made Riding Thorpe Manor a household word through the length and breadth of England.
We had hardly alighted at
North Walsham, and mentioned the name of our destination, when the stationmaster hurried
towards us. "I suppose that you are the detectives from London?" said he.
A look of annoyance passed
over Holmes's face.
"What makes you think
such a thing?"
"Because Inspector
Martin from Norwich has just passed through. But maybe you are the surgeons. She's not
dead -- or wasn't by last accounts. You may be in time to save her yet -- though it be for
the gallows."
Holmes's brow was dark with
anxiety.
"We are going to Riding
Thorpe Manor," said he, "but we have heard nothing of what has passed
there."
"It's a terrible
business," said the stationmaster. "They are shot, both Mr. Hilton Cubitt and
his wife. She shot him and then herself -- so the servants say. He's dead and her life is
despaired of. Dear, dear, one of the oldest families in the county of Norfolk, and one of
the most honoured."
Without a word Holmes
hurried to a carriage, and during the long seven miles' drive he never opened his mouth.
Seldom have I seen him so utterly despondent. He had been uneasy during all our journey
from town, and I had observed that he had turned over the morning papers with anxious
attention, but now this sudden realization of his worst fears justify him in a blank
melan- choly. He leaned back in his seat, lost in gloomy speculation. Yet there was much
around to interest us, for we were passing through as singular a countryside as any in
England, where a few scattered cottages represented the populatlon of to-day, while on
every hand enormous square-towered churches bristled up from the flat green landscape and
told of the glory and prosperity of old East Anglia. At last the violet rim of the German
Ocean appeared over the green edge of the Norfolk coast, and the driver pointed with his
whip to two old brick and timber gables which projected from a grove of trees.
"That's Riding Thorpe Manor," said he.
As we drove up to the
porticoed front door, I observed in front of it, beside the tennis lawn, the black
tool-house and the pedestalled sundial with which we had such strange associations. A
dapper little man, with a quick, alert manner and a waxed moustache, had just descended
from a high dog-cart. He intro- duced himself as Inspector Martin, of the Norfolk
Constabulary and he was considerably astonished when he heard the name of my companion.
"Why, Mr. Holmes, the
crime was only committed at three this morning. How could you hear of it in London and get
to the spot as soon as l?"
"I anticipated it. I
came in the hope of preventing it."
"Then you must have
important evidence, of which we are ignorant, for they were said to be a most united
couple."
"I have only the
evidence of the dancing men," said Holmes. "I will explain the matter to you
later. Meanwhile, since it is too late to prevent this tragedy, I am very anxious that I
should use the knowledge which I possess in order to insure that justice be done. Will you
associate me in your investigation, or will you prefer that I should act
independently?"
"I should be proud to
feel that we were acting together, Mr. Holmes," said the inspector, earnestly.
"In that case I should
be glad to hear the evidence and to examine the premises without an instant of unnecessary
delay."
Inspector Martin had the
good sense to allow my friend to do things in his own fashion, and contented himself with
carefully noting the results. The local surgeon, an old, white-haired man, had just come
down from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt's room, and he reported that her injuries were serious, but
not necessarily fatal. The bullet had passed through the front of her brain, and it would
probably be some time before she could regain conscious- ness. On the question of whether
she had been shot or had shot herself, he would not venture to express any decided
opinion. Certainly the bullet had been discharged at very close quarters. There was only
the one pistol found in the room, two barrels of which had been emptied. Mr. Hilton Cubitt
had been shot through the heart. It was equally conceivable that he had shot her and then
himself, or that she had been the criminal, for the revolver lay upon the floor midway
between them.
"Has he been
moved?" asked Holmes.
"We have moved nothing
except the lady. We could not leave her lying wounded upon the floor."
"How long have you been
here, Doctor?"
"Since four
o'clock."
"Anyone else?"
"Yes, the constable
here."
"And you have touched
nothing?"
"Nothing."
"You have acted with
great discretion. Who sent for you?"
"The housemaid,
Saunders."
"Was it she who gave
the alarm?"
"She and Mrs. King, the
cook."
"Where are they
now?"
"In the kitchen, I
believe."
"Then I think we had
better hear their story at once."
The old hall, oak-panelled
and high-windowed, had been turned into a court of investigation. Holmes sat in a great,
old-fashioned chair, his inexorable eyes gleaming out of his haggard face. I could read in
them a set purpose to devote his life to this quest until the client whom he had failed to
save should at last be avenged. The trim Inspector Martin, the old, gray-headed country
doctor, myself, and a stolid village police- man made up the rest of that strange company.
The two women told their
story clearly enough. They had been aroused from their sleep by the sound of an explosion,
which had been followed a minute later by a second one. They slept in adjoining rooms, and
Mrs. King had rushed in to Saunders. Together they had descended the stairs. The door of
the study was open, and a candle was burning upon the table. Their master lay upon his
face in the centre of the room. He was quite dead. Near the window his wife was crouching,
her head leaning against the wall. She was horribly wounded, and the side of her face was
red with blood. She breathed heavily, but was incapa- ble of saying anything. The passage,
as well as the room, was full of smoke and the smell of powder. The window was cer- tainly
shut and fastened upon the inside. Both women were positive upon the point. They had at
once sent for the doctor and for the constable. Then, with the aid of the groom and the
stable-boy, they had conveyed their injured mistress to her room. Both she and her husband
had occupied the bed. She was clad in her dress -- he in his dressing-gown, over his
night-clothes. Noth- ing had been moved in the study. So far as they knew, there had never
been any quarrel between husband and wife. They had always looked upon them as a very
united couple.
These were the main points
of the servants' evidence. In answer to Inspector Martin, they were clear that every door
was fastened upon the inside, and that no one could have escaped from the house. In answer
to Holmes, they both remembered that they were conscious of the smell of powder from the
moment that they ran out of their rooms upon the top floor. "I commend that fact very
carefully to your attention." said Holmes to his professional colleague. "And
now I think that we are in a position to undertake a thorough examination of the
room."
The study proved to be a
small chamber, lined on three sides with books, and with a writing-table facing an
ordinary window, which looked out upon the garden. Our first attention was given to the
body of the unfortunate squire, whose huge frame lay stretched across the room. His
disordered dress showed that he had been hastily aroused from sleep. The bullet had been
fired at him from the front, and had remained in his body, after penetrat- ing the heart.
His death had certainly been instantaneous and painless. There was no powder-marking
either upon his dressing- gown or on his hands. According to the country surgeon, the lady
had stains upon her face, but none upon her hand.
"The absence of the
latter means nothing, though its presence may mean everything," said Holmes.
"Unless the powder from a badly fitting cartridge happens to spurt backward, one may
fire many shots without leaving a sign. I would suggest that Mr. Cubitt's body may now be
removed. I suppose, Doctor, you have not recovered the bullet which wounded the
lady?"
"A serious operation
will be necessary before that can be done. But there are still four cartridges in the
revolver. Two have been fired and two wounds inflicted, so that each bullet can be
accounted for."
"So it would
seem," said Holmes. "Perhaps you can account also for the bullet which has so
obviously struck the edge of the window?"
He had turned suddenly, and
his long, thin finger was pointing to a hole which had been drilled right through the
lower window- sash. about an inch above the bottom.
"By George!" cried
the inspector. "How ever did you see that?"
"Because I looked for
it."
"Wonderful!" said
the counlry doctor. "You are certainly right, sir. Then a third shot has been fired,
and therefore a third person must have been present. But who could that have been, and how
could he have got away?"
"That is the problem
which we are now about to solve," said Sherlock Holmes. "You remember, Inspector
Martin, when the servants said that on leaving their room they were at once conscious of a
smell of powder, I remarked that the point was an extremely important one?"
"Yes, sir; but I
confess I did not quite follow you."
"It suggested that at
the time of the firing, the window as well as the door of the room had been open.
Otherwise the fumes of powder could not have been blown so rapidly through the house. A
draught in the room was necessary for that. Both door and window were only open for a very
short time, however."
"How do you prove
that?" "Because the candle was not guttered."
"Capital!" cried
the inspector. "Capital!"
"Feeling sure that the
window had been open at the time of the tragedy, I conceived that there might have been a
third person in the affair, who stood outside this opening and fired through it. Any shot
directed at this person might hit the sash. I looked, and there, sure enough, was the
bullet mark!"
"But how came the
window to be shut and fastened?"
"The woman's first
instinct would be to shut and fasten the window. But, halloa! what is this?"
It was a lady's hand-bag
which stood upon the study table -- a trim little handbag of crocodile-skin and silver.
Holmes opened it and turned the contents out. There were twenty fifty-pound notes of the
Bank of England, held together by an india-rubber band -- nothing else.
"This must be
preserved, for it will figure in the trial," said Holmes, as he handed the bag with
its contents to the inspector. "It is now necessary that we should try to throw some
light upon this third bullet, which has clearly, from the splintering of the wood, been
fired from inside the room. I should like to see Mrs. King, the cook, again. You said,
Mrs. King, that you were awakened by a loud explosion. When you said that, did you mean
that it seemed to you to be louder than the second one?"
"Well, sir, it wakened
me from my sleep, so it is hard to judge. But it did seem very loud."
"You don't think that
it might have been two shots fired almost at the same instant?"
"I am sure I couldn't
say, sir."
"I believe that it was
undoubtedly so. I rather think, Inspector Mattin, that we have now exhausted all that this
room can teach us. If you will kindly step round with me, we shall see what fresh evidence
the garden has to offer."
A flower-bed extended up to
the study window, and we all broke into an exclamation as we approached it. The flowers
were trampled down, and the soft soil was imprinted all over with footmarks. Large,
masculine feet they were, with peculiarly long, sharp toes. Holmes hunted about among the
grass and leaves like a retriever after a wounded bird. Then, with a cry of satisfaction,
he bent forward and picked up a little brazen cylinder.
"I thought so,"
said he; "the revolver had an ejector, and here is the third cartridge. I really
think, Inspector Martin, that our case is almost complete."
The country inspector's face
had shown his intense amazement at the rapid and masterful progress of Holmes's
investigation. At first he had shown some disposition to assert his own position, but now
he was overcome with admiration, and ready to follow without question wherever Holmes led.
"Whom do you
suspect?" he asked.
"I'll go into that
later. There are several points in this problem which I have not been able to explain to
you yet. Now that I have got so far, I had best proceed on my own lines, and then clear
the whole matter up once and for all."
"Just as you wish, Mr.
Holmes, so long as we get our man."
"I have no desire to
make mysteries, but it is impossible at the moment of action to enter into long and
complex explanations. I have the threads of this affair all in my hand. Even if this lady
should never recover consciousness, we can still reconstruct the events of last night, and
insure that justice be done. First of all, I wish to know whether there is any inn in this
neighbourhood known as 'Elrige's'?"
The servants were
cross-questioned, but none of them had heard of such a place. The stable-boy threw a light
upon the matter by remembering that a farmer of that name lived some miles off, in the
direction of East Ruston.
"Is it a lonely
farm?"
"Very lonely,
sir."
"Perhaps they have not
heard yet of all that happened here during the night?"
"Maybe not, sir."
Holmes thought for a little,
and then a curious smile played over his face.
"Saddle a horse, my
lad," said he. "I shall wish you to take a note to Elrige's Farm."
He took from his pocket the
various slips of the dancing men. With these in front of him he worked for some time at
the study-table. Finally he handed a note to the boy, with directions to put it into the
hands of the person to whom it was addressed, and especially to answer no questions of any
sort which might be put to him. I saw the outside of the note, addressed in straggling,
irregular characters, very unlike Holmes's usual precise hand. It was consigned to Mr. Abe
Slaney, Elrige's Farm, East Ruston, Norfolk.
"I think,
Inspector," Holmes remarked, "that you would do well to telegraph for an escort,
as, if my calculations prove to be correct, you may have a particularly dangerous prisoner
to con- vey to the county jail. The boy who takes this note could no doubt forward your
telegram. If there is an afternoon train to town, Watson, I think we should do well to
take it, as I have a chemical analysis of some interest to finish, and this investiga-
tion draws rapidly to a close."
When the youth had been
dispatched with the note, Sherlock Holmes gave his instructions to the servants. If any
visitor were to call asking for Mrs. Hilton Cubitt, no information should be given as to
her condition, but he was to be shown at once into the drawing-room. He impressed these
points upon them with the utmost earnestness. Finally he led the way into the
drawing-room, with the remark that the business was now out of our hands, and that we must
while away the time as best we might until we could see what was in store for us. The
doctor had departed to his patients and only the inspector and myself remained.
"I think that I can
help you to pass an hour in an interesting and profitable manner," said Holmes,
drawing his chair up to the table, and spreading out in front of him the various papers
upon which were recorded the antics of the dancing men. "As to you, friend Watson, I
owe you every atonement for having allowed your natural curiosity to remain so long
unsatisfied. To you, Inspector, the whole incident may appeal as a remarkable professional
study. I must tell you, first of all, the interesting circumstances connected with the
previous consultations which Mr. Hilton Cubitt has had with me in Baker Street." He
then shortly recapitulated the facts which have already been recorded. "I have here
in front of me these singular productions, at which one might smile, had they not proved
themselves to be the forerunners of so terrible a tragedy. I am fairly familiar with all
forms of secret writings, and am myself the author of a trifling monograph upon the
subject, in which I analyze one hundred and sixty separate ciphers, but I confess that
this is entirely new to me. The object of those who invented the system has apparently
been to conceal that these characters convey a message, and to give the idea that they are
the mere random sketches of children.
"Having once
recognized, however, that the symbols stood for letters, and having applied the rules
which guide us in all forms of secret writings, the solution was easy enough. The first
message submitted to me was so short that it was impossible for me to do more than to say,
with some confidence, that the symbol ~ stood for E. As you are aware, E is the most
common letter in the English alphabet, and it predominates to so marked an extent that
even in a short sentence one would expect to find it most often. Out of fifteen symbols in
the first message, four were the same, so it was reasonable to set this down as E. It is
true that in some cases the figure was bearing a flag, and in some cases not, but it was
probable, from the way in which the flags were distributed, that they were used to break
the sentence up into words. I accepted this as a hypothesis, and noted that E was
represented by ~.
"But now came the real
difficulty of the inquiry. The order of the English letters after E is by no means well
marked, and any preponderance which may be shown in an average of a printed sheet may be
reversed in a single short sentence. Speaking roughly, T, A, 0, I, N, S, H, R, D, and L
are the numerical order in which letters occur; but T, A, 0, and I are very nearly abreast
of each other, and it would be an endless task to try each combination until a meaning was
arrived at. I therefore waited for fresh material. In my second interview with Mr. Hilton
Cubitt he was able to give me two other short sentences and one message, which appeared --
since there was no flag -- to be a single word. Here are the symbols. Now, in the single
word I have already got the two E's coming second and fourth in a word of five letters. It
might be 'sever.' or 'lever,' or 'never.' There can be no question that the latter as a
reply to an appeal is far the most probable, and the circumstances pointed to its being a
reply written by the lady. Accepting it as correct, we are now able to say that the
symbols ~~~ stand respectively for N, V, and R.
"Even now I was in
considerable difficulty, but a happy thought put me in possession of several other
letters. It occurred to me that if these appeals came, as I expected, from someone who had
been intimate with the lady in her early life, a combina- tion which contained two E's
with three letters between might very well stand for the name 'ELSIE.' On examination I
found that such a combination formed the termination of the message which was three times
repeated. It was certainly some appeal to 'Elsie.' In this way I had got my L, S, and I.
But what appeal could it be? There were only four letters in the word which preceded
'Elsie,' and it ended in E. Surely the word must be 'COME.' I tried all other four letters
ending in E, but could find none to fit the case. So now I was in possession of C. 0, and
M, and I was in a position to attack the first message once more, dividing it into words
and putting dots for each symbol which was still unknown. So treated, it worked out in
this fashion:
. M . ERE . . E SL . NE.
"Now the first letter
can only be A, which is a most useful discovery, since it occurs no fewer than three times
in this short sentence, and the H is also apparent in the second word. Now it becomes:
AM HERE A . E SLANE.
Or, filling in the obvious
vacancies in the name:
AM HERE ABE SLANEY.
I had so many letters now
that I could proceed with considerable confidence to the second message, which worked out
in this fashion:
A . ELRI . ES
Here I could only make sense
by putting T and G for the missing letters, and supposing that the name was that of some
house or inn at which the writer was staying."
Inspector Martin and I had
listened with the utmost interest to the full and clear account of how my friend had
produced results which had led to so complete a command over our difficulties.
"What did you do then,
sir?" asked the inspector.
"I had every reason to
suppose that this Abe Slaney was an American, since Abe is an American contraction, and
since a letter from America had been the starting-point of all the trouble. I had also
every cause to think that there was some criminal secret in the matter. The lady's
allusions to her past, and her refusal to take her husband into her confidence, both
pointed in that direction. I therefore cabled to my friend, Wilson Hargreave, of the New
York Police Bureau, who has more than once made use of my knowledge of London crime. I
asked him whether the name of Abe Slaney was known to him. Here is his reply: 'The most
dangerous crook in Chicago.' On the very evening upon which I had his answer, Hilton
Cubitt sent me the last message from Slaney. Working with known letters, it took this
form:
ELSIE . RE . ARE TO MEET THY GO.
The addition of a P and a D
completed a message which showed me that the rascal was proceeding from persuasion to
threats, and my knowledge of the crooks of Chicago prepared me to find that he might very
rapidly put his words into action. I at once came to Norfolk with my friend and colleague,
Dr. Watson, but, unhappily, only in time to find that the worst had already
occurred."
"It is a privilege to
be associated with you in the handling of a case," said the inspector, warmly.
"You will excuse me, how- ever, if I speak frankly to you. You are only answerable to
yourself, but I have to answer to my superiors. If this Abe Slaney, living at Elrige's, is
indeed the murderer, and if he has made his escape while I am seated here, I should
certainly get into serious trouble."
"You need not be
uneasy. He will not try to escape."
"How do you know?"
"To fly would be a
confession of guilt."
"Then let us go to
arrest him."
"I expect him here
every instant."
"But why should he
come?"
"Because I have written
and asked him."
"But this is
incredible, Mr. Holmes! Why should he come because you have asked him? Would not such a
request rather rouse his suspicions and cause him to fly?"
"I think I have known
how to frame the letter," said Sherlock Holmes. "In fact, if I am not very much
mistaken, here is the gentleman himself coming up the dnve."
A man was striding up the
path which led to the door. He was a tall, handsome, swarthy fellow, clad in a suit of
gray flannel, with a Panama hat, a bristling black beard, and a great, aggres- sive hooked
nose, and flourishing a cane as he walked. He swaggered up the path as if the place
belonged to him, and we heard his loud, confident peal at the bell.
"I think,
gentlemen," said Holmes, quietly, "that we had best take up our position behind
the door. Every precaution is necessary when dealing with such a fellow. You will need
your handcuffs, Inspector. You can leave the talking to me." We waited in silence for
a minute -- one of those minutes which one can never forget. Then the door opened and the
man stepped in. In an instant Holmes clapped a pistol to his head, and Martin slipped the
handcuffs over his wrists. It was all done so swiftly and deftly that the fellow was
helpless before he knew that he was attacked. He glared from one to the other of us with a
pair of blazing black eyes. Then he burst into a bitter laugh. "Well, gentlemen, you
have the drop on me this time. I seem to have knocked up against something hard. But I
came here in answer to a letter from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt. Don't tell me that she is in
this? Don't tell me that she helped to set a trap for me?"
"Mrs. HiLton Cubitt was
seriously injured, and is at death's door."
The man gave a hoarse cry of
grief, which rang through the house.
"You're crazy!" he
cried, fiercely. "It was he that was hurt, not she. Who would have hurt little Elsie?
I may have threatened her -- God forgive me! -- but I would not have touched a hair of her
pretty head. Take it back -- you! Say that she is not hurt!"
"She was found, badly
wounded, by the side of her dead husband."
He sank with a deep groan on
to the settee, and buried his face in his manacled hands. For five minutes he was silent.
Then he raised his face once more, and spoke with the cold composure of despair.
"I have nothing to hide
from you, gentlemen," said he. "If I shot the man he had his shot at me, and
there's no murder in that. But if you think I could have hurt that woman, then you don't
know either me or her. I tell you, there was never a man in this world loved a woman more
than I loved her. I had a right to her. She was pledged to me years ago. Who was this
Englishman that he should come between us? I tell you that I had the first right to her,
and that I was only claiming my own."
"She broke away from
your influence when she found the man that you are," said Holmes, sternly. "She
fled from Amer- ica to avoid you, and she married an honourable gentleman in England. You
dogged her and followed her and made her life a misery to her, in order to induce her to
abandon the husband whom she loved and respected in order to fly with you, whom she feared
and hated. You have ended by bringing about the death of a noble man and driving his wife
to suicide. That is your record in this business, Mr. Abe Slaney, and you will answer for
it to the law.
"If Elsie dies, I care
nothing what becomes of me," said the American. He opened one of his hands, and
looked at a note crumpled up in his palm. "See here, mister," he cried, with a
gleam of suspicion in his eyes, "you're not trying to scare me over this, are you? If
the lady is hurt as bad as you say, who was it that wrote this note?" He tossed it
forward on to the table.
"I wrote it, to bring
you here."
"You wrote it? There
was no one on earth outside the Joint who knew the secret of the dancing men. How came you
to write it?"
"What one man can
invent another can discover," said Holmes. "There is a cab coming to convey you
to Norwich, Mr. Slaney. But, meanwhile, you have time to make some small reparation for
the injury you have wrought. Are you aware that Mrs. Hilton Cubitt has herself lain under
grave suspicion of the murder of her husband, and that it was only my presence here, and
the knowl- edge which I happened to possess, which has saved her from the accusation? The
least that you owe her is to make it clear to the whole world that she was in no way,
directly or indirectly, responsible for his tragic end."
"I ask nothing
better," said the American. "I guess the very best case I can make for myself is
the absolute naked truth."
"It is my duty to warn
you that it will be used against you," cried the inspector, with the magnificent fair
play of the British criminal law.
Slaney shrugged his
shoulders.
"I'll chance
that," said he. "First of all, I want you gentle- men to understand that I have
known this lady since she was a child. There were seven of us in a gang in Chicago, and
Elsie's father was the boss of the Joint. He was a clever man, was old Patrick. It was he
who invented that writing, which would pass as a child's scrawl unless you just happened
to have the key to it. Well Elsie learned some of our ways. but she couldn't stand the
business, and she had a bit of honest money of her own. so she gave us all the slip and
got away to London. She had been engaged to me, and she would have married me, I believe,
if I had taken over another profession, but she would have nothing to do with anything on
the cross. It was only after her marriage to this Englishman that I was able to find out
where she was. I wrote to her, but got no answer. After that I came over, and, as letters
were no use, I put my messages where she could read them.
"Well, I have been here
a month now. I lived in that farm, where I had a room down below, and could get in and out
every night, and no one the wiser. I tried all I could to coax Elsie away. I knew that she
read the messages, for once she wrote an answer under one of them. Then my temper got the
better of me, and I began to threaten her. She sent me a letter then, imploring me to go
away, and saying that it would break her heart if any scandal should come upon her
husband. She said that she would come down when her husband was asleep at three in the
morn- ing, and speak with me through the end window, if I would go away afterwards and
leave her in peace. She came down and brought money with her, trying to bribe me to go.
This made me mad and I caught her arm and tried to pull her through the window. At that
moment in rushed the husband with his revolver in his hand. Elsie had sunk down upon the
floor, and we were face to face. I was heeled also, and I held up my gun to scare him off
and let me get away. He fired and missed me. I pulled off almost at the same instant, and
down he dropped. I made away across the garden, and as I went I heard the window shut
behind me. That's God's truth, gentlemen, every word of it: and I heard no more about it
until that lad came riding up with a note which made me walk in here, like a jay, and give
myself into your hands."
A cab had driven up whilst
the American had been talking. Two uniformed policemen sat inside. Inspector Martin rose
and touched his prisoner on the shoulder.
"It is time for us to
go."
"Can I see her
first?"
"No, she is not
conscious. Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I only hope that, if ever again I have an important case,
I shall have the good fortune to have you by my side."
We stood at the window and
watched the cab drive away. As I turned back, my eye caught the pellet of paper which the
pris- oner had tossed upon the table. It was the note with which Holmes had decoyed him.
"See if you can read
it, Watson," said he, with a smile.
It contained no word, but
this little line of dancing men:
"If you use the code
which I have explained," said Holmes, "you will find that it simply means 'Come
here at once.' I was convinced that it was an invitation which he would not refuse, since
he could never imagine that it could come from anyone but the lady. And so, my dear
Watson, we have ended by turning the dancing men to good when they have so often been the
agents of evil, and I think that I have fulfilled my promise of giving you something
unusual for your notebook. Three-forty is our train, and I fancy we should be back in
Baker Street for dinner."
Only one word of epilogue.
The American, Abe Slaney, was condemned to death at the winter assizes at Norwich, but his
penalty was changed to penal servitude in consideration of miti- gating circumstances, and
the certainty that Hilton Cubitt had fired the first shot. Of Mrs. Hilton Cubitt I only
know that I have heard she recovered entirely, and that she still remains a widow,
devoting her whole life to the care of the poor and to the administration of her husband's
estate.
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