"Only this: that I know that that mark was not there when I examined
the hall yesterday. And now, Watson, let us have a little stroll
round in the sunshine."
With a confused brain, but with a heart into which some warmth of
hope was returning, I accompanied my friend in a walk round the
garden. Holmes took each face of the house in turn and examined it
with great interest. He then led the way inside and went over the
whole building from basement to attics. Most of the rooms were
unfurnished, but none the less Holmes inspected them all minutely.
Finally, on the top corridor, which ran outside three untenanted
bedrooms, he again was seized with a spasm of merriment.
"There are really some very unique features about this case, Watson,"
said he. "I think it is time now that we took our friend Lestrade
into our confidence. He has had his little smile at our expense, and
perhaps we may do as much by him if my reading of this problem proves
to be correct. Yes, yes; I think I see how we should approach it."
The Scotland Yard inspector was still writing in the parlour when
Holmes interrupted him.
"I understood that you were writing a report of this case," said he.
"So I am."
"Don't you think it may be a little premature? I can't help thinking
that your evidence is not complete."
Lestrade knew my friend too well to disregard his words. He laid down
his pen and looked curiously at him.
"What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?"
"Only that there is an important witness whom you have not seen."
"Can you produce him?"
"I think I can."
"Then do so."
"I will do my best. How many constables have you?"
"There are three within call."
"Excellent!" said Holmes. "May I ask if they are all large,
able-bodied men with powerful voices?"
"I have no doubt they are, though I fail to see what their voices
have to do with it."
"Perhaps I can help you to see that and one or two other things as
well," said Holmes. "Kindly summon your men, and I will try."
Five minutes later three policemen had assembled in the hall.
"In the outhouse you will find a considerable quantity of straw,"
said Holmes. "I will ask you to carry in two bundles of it. I think
it will be of the greatest assistance in producing the witness whom I
require. Thank you very much. I believe you have some matches in your
pocket, Watson. Now, Mr. Lestrade, I will ask you all to accompany me
to the top landing."
As I have said, there was a broad corridor there, which ran outside
three empty bedrooms. At one end of the corridor we were all
marshalled by Sherlock Holmes, the constables grinning and Lestrade
staring at my friend with amazement, expectation, and derision
chasing each other across his features. Holmes stood before us with
the air of a conjurer who is performing a trick.
"Would you kindly send one of your constables for two buckets of
water? Put the straw on the floor here, free from the wall on either
side. Now I think that we are all ready."
Lestrade's face had begun to grow red and angry.
"I don't know whether you are playing a game with us, Mr. Sherlock
Holmes," said he. "If you know anything, you can surely say it
without all this tomfoolery."
"I assure you, my good Lestrade, that I have an excellent reason for
everything that I do. You may possibly remember that you chaffed me a
little some hours ago, when the sun seemed on your side of the hedge,
so you must not grudge me a little pomp and ceremony now. Might I ask
you, Watson, to open that window, and then to put a match to the edge
of the straw?"
I did so, and, driven by the draught, a coil of grey smoke swirled
down the corridor, while the dry straw crackled and flamed.
"Now we must see if we can find this witness for you, Lestrade. Might
I ask you all to join in the cry of 'Fire!'? Now, then; one, two,
three--"
"Fire!" we all yelled.
"Thank you. I will trouble you once again."
"Fire!"
"Just once more, gentlemen, and all together."
"Fire!" The shout must have rung over Norwood.
It had hardly died away when an amazing thing happened. A door
suddenly flew open out of what appeared to be solid wall at the end
of the corridor, and a little, wizened man darted out of it, like a
rabbit out of its burrow.
"Capital!" said Holmes, calmly. "Watson, a bucket of water over the
straw. That will do! Lestrade, allow me to present you with your
principal missing witness, Mr. Jonas Oldacre."
The detective stared at the new-comer with blank amazement. The
latter was blinking in the bright light of the corridor, and peering
at us and at the smouldering fire. It was an odious face--crafty,
vicious, malignant, with shifty, light-grey eyes and white eyelashes.
"What's this, then?" said Lestrade at last. "What have you been doing
all this time, eh?"
Oldacre gave an uneasy laugh, shrinking back from the furious red
face of the angry detective.
"I have done no harm."
"No harm? You have done your best to get an innocent man hanged. If
it wasn't for this gentleman here, I am not sure that you would not
have succeeded."
The wretched creature began to whimper.
"I am sure, sir, it was only my practical joke."
"Oh! a joke, was it? You won't find the laugh on your side, I promise
you. Take him down and keep him in the sitting-room until I come. Mr.
Holmes," he continued, when they had gone, "I could not speak before
the constables, but I don't mind saying, in the presence of Dr.
Watson, that this is the brightest thing that you have done yet,
though it is a mystery to me how you did it. You have saved an
innocent man's life, and you have prevented a very grave scandal,
which would have ruined my reputation in the Force."
Holmes smiled and clapped Lestrade upon the shoulder.
"Instead of being ruined, my good sir, you will find that your
reputation has been enormously enhanced. Just make a few alterations
in that report which you were writing, and they will understand how
hard it is to throw dust in the eyes of Inspector Lestrade."
"And you don't want your name to appear?"
"Not at all. The work is its own reward. Perhaps I shall get the
credit also at some distant day when I permit my zealous historian to
lay out his foolscap once more--eh, Watson? Well, now, let us see
where this rat has been lurking."
A lath-and-plaster partition had been run across the passage six feet
from the end, with a door cunningly concealed in it. It was lit
within by slits under the eaves. A few articles of furniture and a
supply of food and water were within, together with a number of books
and papers.
"There's the advantage of being a builder," said Holmes, as we came
out. "He was able to fix up his own little hiding-place without any
confederate--save, of course, that precious housekeeper of his, whom
I should lose no time in adding to your bag, Lestrade."
"I'll take your advice. But how did you know of this place, Mr.
Holmes?"
"I made up my mind that the fellow was in hiding in the house. When I
paced one corridor and found it six feet shorter than the
corresponding one below, it was pretty clear where he was. I thought
he had not the nerve to lie quiet before an alarm of fire. We could,
of course, have gone in and taken him, but it amused me to make him
reveal himself; besides, I owed you a little mystification, Lestrade,
for your chaff in the morning."
"Well, sir, you certainly got equal with me on that. But how in the
world did you know that he was in the house at all?"
"The thumb-mark, Lestrade. You said it was final; and so it was, in a
very different sense. I knew it had not been there the day before. I
pay a good deal of attention to matters of detail, as you may have
observed, and I had examined the hall and was sure that the wall was
clear. Therefore, it had been put on during the night."
"But how?"
"Very simply. When those packets were sealed up, Jonas Oldacre got
McFarlane to secure one of the seals by putting his thumb upon the
soft wax. It would be done so quickly and so naturally that I dare
say the young man himself has no recollection of it. Very likely it
just so happened, and Oldacre had himself no notion of the use he
would put it to. Brooding over the case in that den of his, it
suddenly struck him what absolutely damning evidence he could make
against McFarlane by using that thumb-mark. It was the simplest thing
in the world for him to take a wax impression from the seal, to
moisten it in as much blood as he could get from a pin-prick, and to
put the mark upon the wall during the night, either with his own hand
or with that of his housekeeper. If you examine among those documents
which he took with him into his retreat I will lay you a wager that
you find the seal with the thumb-mark upon it."
"Wonderful!" said Lestrade. "Wonderful! It's all as clear as crystal,
as you put it. But what is the object of this deep deception, Mr.
Holmes?"
It was amusing to me to see how the detective's overbearing manner
had changed suddenly to that of a child asking questions of its
teacher.
"Well, I don't think that is very hard to explain. A very deep,
malicious, vindictive person is the gentleman who is now awaiting us
downstairs. You know that he was once refused by McFarlane's mother?
You don't! I told you that you should go to Blackheath first and
Norwood afterwards. Well, this injury, as he would consider it, has
rankled in his wicked, scheming brain, and all his life he has longed
for vengeance, but never seen his chance. During the last year or two
things have gone against him--secret speculation, I think--and he
finds himself in a bad way. He determines to swindle his creditors,
and for this purpose he pays large cheques to a certain Mr.
Cornelius, who is, I imagine, himself under another name. I have not
traced these cheques yet, but I have no doubt that they were banked
under that name at some provincial town where Oldacre from time to
time led a double existence. He intended to change his name
altogether, draw this money, and vanish, starting life again
elsewhere."
"Well, that's likely enough."
"It would strike him that in disappearing he might throw all pursuit
off his track, and at the same time have an ample and crushing
revenge upon his old sweetheart, if he could give the impression that
he had been murdered by her only child. It was a masterpiece of
villainy, and he carried it out like a master. The idea of the will,
which would give an obvious motive for the crime, the secret visit
unknown to his own parents, the retention of the stick, the blood,
and the animal remains and buttons in the wood-pile, all were
admirable. It was a net from which it seemed to me a few hours ago
that there was no possible escape. But he had not that supreme gift
of the artist, the knowledge of when to stop. He wished to improve
that which was already perfect--to draw the rope tighter yet round
the neck of his unfortunate victim--and so he ruined all. Let us
descend, Lestrade. There are just one or two questions that I would
ask him."
The malignant creature was seated in his own parlour with a policeman
upon each side of him.
"It was a joke, my good sir, a practical joke, nothing more," he
whined incessantly. "I assure you, sir, that I simply concealed
myself in order to see the effect of my disappearance, and I am sure
that you would not be so unjust as to imagine that I would have
allowed any harm to befall poor young Mr. McFarlane."
"That's for a jury to decide," said Lestrade. "Anyhow, we shall have
you on a charge of conspiracy, if not for attempted murder."
"And you'll probably find that your creditors will impound the
banking account of Mr. Cornelius," said Holmes.
The little man started and turned his malignant eyes upon my friend.
"I have to thank you for a good deal," said he. "Perhaps I'll pay my
debt some day."
Holmes smiled indulgently.
"I fancy that for some few years you will find your time very fully
occupied," said he. "By the way, what was it you put into the
wood-pile besides your old trousers? A dead dog, or rabbits, or what?
You won't tell? Dear me, how very unkind of you! Well, well, I dare
say that a couple of rabbits would account both for the blood and for
the charred ashes. If ever you write an account, Watson, you can make
rabbits serve your turn."
THE ADVENTURE OF THE DANCING MEN
Holmes had been seated for some hours in silence with his long, thin
