"It is an art which is often useful," said he. "When I recovered I
managed, by a device which had perhaps some little merit of
ingenuity, to get old Cunningham to write the word 'twelve,' so that
I might compare it with the 'twelve' upon the paper."
"Oh, what an ass I have been!" I exclaimed.
"I could see that you were commiserating me over my weakness," said
Holmes, laughing. "I was sorry to cause you the sympathetic pain
which I know that you felt. We then went upstairs together, and
having entered the room and seen the dressing-gown hanging up behind
the door, I contrived, by upsetting a table, to engage their
attention for the moment, and slipped back to examine the pockets. I
had hardly got the paper, however--which was, as I had expected, in
one of them--when the two Cunninghams were on me, and would, I verily
believe, have murdered me then and there but for your prompt and
friendly aid. As it is, I feel that young man's grip on my throat
now, and the father has twisted my wrist round in the effort to get
the paper out of my hand. They saw that I must know all about it, you
see, and the sudden change from absolute security to complete despair
made them perfectly desperate.
"I had a little talk with old Cunningham afterwards as to the motive
of the crime. He was tractable enough, though his son was a perfect
demon, ready to blow out his own or anybody else's brains if he could
have got to his revolver. When Cunningham saw that the case against
him was so strong he lost all heart and made a clean breast of
everything. It seems that William had secretly followed his two
masters on the night when they made their raid upon Mr. Acton's, and
having thus got them into his power, proceeded, under threats of
exposure, to levy black-mail upon them. Mr. Alec, however, was a
dangerous man to play games of that sort with. It was a stroke of
positive genius on his part to see in the burglary scare which was
convulsing the country side an opportunity of plausibly getting rid
of the man whom he feared. William was decoyed up and shot, and had
they only got the whole of the note and paid a little more attention
to detail in the accessories, it is very possible that suspicion
might never have been aroused."
"And the note?" I asked.
Sherlock Holmes placed the subjoined paper before us.
If you will only come around at quarter to twelve
to the east gate you will learn what
will very much surprise you and may
be of the greatest service to you and also
to Annie Morrison. But say nothing to
anyone upon the matter
"It is very much the sort of thing that I expected," said he. "Of
course, we do not yet know what the relations may have been between
Alec Cunningham, William Kirwan, and Annie Morrison. The results
shows that the trap was skillfully baited. I am sure that you cannot
fail to be delighted with the traces of heredity shown in the p's and
in the tails of the g's. The absence of the i-dots in the old man's
writing is also most characteristic. Watson, I think our quiet rest
in the country has been a distinct success, and I shall certainly
return much invigorated to Baker Street to-morrow."
THE CROOKED MAN
One summer night, a few months after my marriage, I was seated by my
own hearth smoking a last pipe and nodding over a novel, for my day's
work had been an exhausting one. My wife had already gone upstairs,
and the sound of the locking of the hall door some time before told
me that the servants had also retired. I had risen from my seat and
was knocking out the ashes of my pipe when I suddenly heard the clang
of the bell.
I looked at the clock. It was a quarter to twelve. This could not
be a visitor at so late an hour. A patient, evidently, and possibly
an all-night sitting. With a wry face I went out into the hall and
opened the door. To my astonishment it was Sherlock Holmes who stood
upon my step.
"Ah, Watson," said he, "I hoped that I might not be too late to catch
you."
"My dear fellow, pray come in."
"You look surprised, and no wonder! Relieved, too, I fancy! Hum!
You still smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days then!
There's no mistaking that fluffy ash upon your coat. It's easy to
tell that you have been accustomed to wear a uniform, Watson. You'll
never pass as a pure-bred civilian as long as you keep that habit of
carrying your handkerchief in your sleeve. Could you put me up
tonight?"
"With pleasure."
"You told me that you had bachelor quarters for one, and I see that
you have no gentleman visitor at present. Your hat-stand proclaims
as much."
"I shall be delighted if you will stay."
"Thank you. I'll fill the vacant peg then. Sorry to see that you've
had the British workman in the house. He's a token of evil. Not the
drains, I hope?"
"No, the gas."
"Ah! He has left two nail-marks from his boot upon your linoleum
just where the light strikes it. No, thank you, I had some supper at
Waterloo, but I'll smoke a pipe with you with pleasure."
I handed him my pouch, and he seated himself opposite to me and
smoked for some time in silence. I was well aware that nothing but
business of importance would have brought him to me at such an hour,
so I waited patiently until he should come round to it.
"I see that you are professionally rather busy just now," said he,
glancing very keenly across at me.
"Yes, I've had a busy day," I answered. "It may seem very foolish in
your eyes," I added, "but really I don't know how you deduced it."
Holmes chuckled to himself.
"I have the advantage of knowing your habits, my dear Watson," said
he. "When your round is a short one you walk, and when it is a long
one you use a hansom. As I perceive that your boots, although used,
are by no means dirty, I cannot doubt that you are at present busy
enough to justify the hansom."
"Excellent!" I cried.
"Elementary," said he. "It is one of those instances where the
reasoner can produce an effect which seems remarkable to his
neighbor, because the latter has missed the one little point which is
the basis of the deduction. The same may be said, my dear fellow,
for the effect of some of these little sketches of yours, which is
entirely meretricious, depending as it does upon your retaining in
your own hands some factors in the problem which are never imparted
to the reader. Now, at present I am in the position of these same
readers, for I hold in this hand several threads of one of the
strangest cases which ever perplexed a man's brain, and yet I lack
the one or two which are needful to complete my theory. But I'll
have them, Watson, I'll have them!" His eyes kindled and a slight
flush sprang into his thin cheeks. For an instant the veil had lifted
upon his keen, intense nature, but for an instant only. When I
glanced again his face had resumed that red-Indian composure which
had made so many regard him as a machine rather than a man.
"The problem presents features of interest," said he. "I may even
say exceptional features of interest. I have already looked into the
matter, and have come, as I think, within sight of my solution. If
you could accompany me in that last step you might be of considerable
service to me."
"I should be delighted."
"Could you go as far as Aldershot to-morrow?"
"I have no doubt Jackson would take my practice."
"Very good. I want to start by the 11.10 from Waterloo."
"That would give me time."
"Then, if you are not too sleepy, I will give you a sketch of what
has happened, and of what remains to be done."
"I was sleepy before you came. I am quite wakeful now."
"I will compress the story as far as may be done without omitting
anything vital to the case. It is conceivable that you may even have
read some account of the matter. It is the supposed murder of
Colonel Barclay, of the Royal Munsters, at Aldershot, which I am
investigating."
"I have heard nothing of it."
"It has not excited much attention yet, except locally. The facts
are only two days old. Briefly they are these:
"The Royal Munsters is, as you know, one of the most famous Irish
regiments in the British army. It did wonders both in the Crimea and
the Mutiny, and has since that time distinguished itself upon every
possible occasion. It was commanded up to Monday night by James
Barclay, a gallant veteran, who started as a full private, was raised
to commissioned rank for his bravery at the time of the Mutiny, and
so lived to command the regiment in which he had once carried a
musket.
"Colonel Barclay had married at the time when he was a sergeant, and
his wife, whose maiden name was Miss Nancy Devoy, was the daughter of
a former color-sergeant in the same corps. There was, therefore, as
can be imagined, some little social friction when the young couple
(for they were still young) found themselves in their new
surroundings. They appear, however, to have quickly adapted
themselves, and Mrs. Barclay has always, I understand, been as
popular with the ladies of the regiment as her husband was with his
brother officers. I may add that she was a woman of great beauty,
and that even now, when she has been married for upwards of thirty
years, she is still of a striking and queenly appearance.
"Colonel Barclay's family life appears to have been a uniformly happy
one. Major Murphy, to whom I owe most of my facts, assures me that
he has never heard of any misunderstanding between the pair. On the
whole, he thinks that Barclay's devotion to his wife was greater than
his wife's to Barclay. He was acutely uneasy if he were absent from
her for a day. She, on the other hand, though devoted and faithful,
was less obtrusively affectionate. But they were regarded in the
regiment as the very model of a middle-aged couple. There was
absolutely nothing in their mutual relations to prepare people for
the tragedy which was to follow.
"Colonel Barclay himself seems to have had some singular traits in
his character. He was a dashing, jovial old solder in his usual
mood, but there were occasions on which he seemed to show himself
capable of considerable violence and vindictiveness. This side of
his nature, however, appears never to have been turned towards his
wife. Another fact, which had struck Major Murphy and three out of
five of the other officers with whom I conversed, was the singular
sort of depression which came upon him at times. As the major
expressed it, the smile had often been struck from his mouth, as if
by some invisible hand, when he has been joining the gaieties and
chaff of the mess-table. For days on end, when the mood was on him,
he has been sunk in the deepest gloom. This and a certain tinge of
superstition were the only unusual traits in his character which his
brother officers had observed. The latter peculiarity took the form
of a dislike to being left alone, especially after dark. This
puerile feature in a nature which was conspicuously manly had often
given rise to comment and conjecture.
"The first battalion of the Royal Munsters (which is the old 117th)
has been stationed at Aldershot for some years. The married officers
live out of barracks, and the Colonel has during all this time
occupied a villa called Lachine, about half a mile from the north
camp. The house stands in its own grounds, but the west side of it
is not more than thirty yards from the high-road. A coachman and two
maids form the staff of servants. These with their master and
mistress were the sole occupants of Lachine, for the Barclays had no
children, nor was it usual for them to have resident visitors.
"Now for the events at Lachine between nine and ten on the evening of
last Monday.
"Mrs. Barclay was, it appears, a member of the Roman Catholic Church,
and had interested herself very much in the establishment of the
Guild of St. George, which was formed in connection with the Watt
Street Chapel for the purpose of supplying the poor with cast-off
clothing. A meeting of the Guild had been held that evening at
eight, and Mrs. Barclay had hurried over her dinner in order to be
present at it. When leaving the house she was heard by the coachman
to make some commonplace remark to her husband, and to assure him
that she would be back before very long. She then called for Miss
Morrison, a young lady who lives in the next villa, and the two went
off together to their meeting. It lasted forty minutes, and at a
quarter-past nine Mrs. Barclay returned home, having left Miss
Morrison at her door as she passed.
"There is a room which is used as a morning-room at Lachine. This
