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 grey 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 possibly a
meretricious, effect. Now, it was not really difficult, by an
inspection of the groove between your left forefinger and thumb, to
feel sure that you did not propose to invest your small capital in
the goldfields."
"I see no connection."
"Very likely not; but I can quickly show you a close connection. Here
are the missing links of the very simple chain: 1. You had chalk
between your left 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 cheque-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 Watson." 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 Ridling 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 left 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 frightening 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 note-book. 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 pocket-book.
"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 Ridling 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 boarding-house 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 a 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.
'I 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 lying on the sun-dial 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 neighbourhood?"
"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 look-out, 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 reproduction of those which were
done in chalk upon the window-sill. Make a discreet inquiry also as
to any strangers in the neighbourhood. 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 left Sherlock Holmes very thoughtful, and several times
in the next few days I saw him take his slip of paper from his
note-book 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 arm-chair. "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 wearing 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 dare say I did it
clumsily, and scared her off 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?"
