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 prisoner 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
note-book. 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 mitigating 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.
THE ADVENTURE OF THE SOLITARY CYCLIST
From the years 1894 to 1901 inclusive Mr. Sherlock Holmes was a very
busy man. It is safe to say that there was no public case of any
difficulty in which he was not consulted during those eight years,
and there were hundreds of private cases, some of them of the most
intricate and extraordinary character, in which he played a prominent
part. Many startling successes and a few unavoidable failures were
the outcome of this long period of continuous work. As I have
preserved very full notes of all these cases, and was myself
personally engaged in many of them, it may be imagined that it is no
easy task to know which I should select to lay before the public. I
shall, however, preserve my former rule, and give the preference to
those cases which derive their interest not so much from the
brutality of the crime as from the ingenuity and dramatic quality of
the solution. For this reason I will now lay before the reader the
facts connected with Miss Violet Smith, the solitary cyclist of
Charlington, and the curious sequel of our investigation, which
culminated in unexpected tragedy. It is true that the circumstances
did not admit of any striking illustration of those powers for which
my friend was famous, but there were some points about the case which
made it stand out in those long records of crime from which I gather
the material for these little narratives.
On referring to my note-book for the year 1895 I find that it was
upon Saturday, the 23rd of April, that we first heard of Miss Violet
Smith. Her visit was, I remember, extremely unwelcome to Holmes, for
he was immersed at the moment in a very abstruse and complicated
problem concerning the peculiar persecution to which John Vincent
Harden, the well-known tobacco millionaire, had been subjected. My
friend, who loved above all things precision and concentration of
thought, resented anything which distracted his attention from the
matter in hand. And yet without a harshness which was foreign to his
nature it was impossible to refuse to listen to the story of the
young and beautiful woman, tall, graceful, and queenly, who presented
herself at Baker Street late in the evening and implored his
assistance and advice. It was vain to urge that his time was already
fully occupied, for the young lady had come with the determination to
tell her story, and it was evident that nothing short of force could
get her out of the room until she had done so. With a resigned air
and a somewhat weary smile, Holmes begged the beautiful intruder to
take a seat and to inform us what it was that was troubling her.
"At least it cannot be your health," said he, as his keen eyes darted
over her; "so ardent a bicyclist must be full of energy."
She glanced down in surprise at her own feet, and I observed the
slight roughening of the side of the sole caused by the friction of
the edge of the pedal.
"Yes, I bicycle a good deal, Mr. Holmes, and that has something to do
with my visit to you to-day."
My friend took the lady's ungloved hand and examined it with as close
an attention and as little sentiment as a scientist would show to a
specimen.
"You will excuse me, I am sure. It is my business," said he, as he
dropped it. "I nearly fell into the error of supposing that you were
typewriting. Of course, it is obvious that it is music. You observe
the spatulate finger-end, Watson, which is common to both
professions? There is a spirituality about the face, however"--he
gently turned it towards the light--"which the typewriter does not
generate. This lady is a musician."
"Yes, Mr. Holmes, I teach music."
"In the country, I presume, from your complexion."
"Yes, sir; near Farnham, on the borders of Surrey."
"A beautiful neighbourhood and full of the most interesting
associations. You remember, Watson, that it was near there that we
took Archie Stamford, the forger. Now, Miss Violet, what has happened
to you near Farnham, on the borders of Surrey?"
The young lady, with great clearness and composure, made the
following curious statement:--
"My father is dead, Mr. Holmes. He was James Smith, who conducted the
orchestra at the old Imperial Theatre. My mother and I were left
without a relation in the world except one uncle, Ralph Smith, who
went to Africa twenty-five years ago, and we have never had a word
from him since. When father died we were left very poor, but one day
we were told that there was an advertisement in the Times inquiring
for our whereabouts. You can imagine how excited we were, for we
thought that someone had left us a fortune. We went at once to the
lawyer whose name was given in the paper. There we met two gentlemen,
Mr. Carruthers and Mr. Woodley, who were home on a visit from South
Africa. They said that my uncle was a friend of theirs, that he died
some months before in great poverty in Johannesburg, and that he had
asked them with his last breath to hunt up his relations and see that
they were in no want. It seemed strange to us that Uncle Ralph, who
took no notice of us when he was alive, should be so careful to look
after us when he was dead; but Mr. Carruthers explained that the
reason was that my uncle had just heard of the death of his brother,
and so felt responsible for our fate."
"Excuse me," said Holmes; "when was this interview?"
"Last December--four months ago."
"Pray proceed."
"Mr. Woodley seemed to me to be a most odious person. He was for ever
making eyes at me--a coarse, puffy-faced, red-moustached young man,
with his hair plastered down on each side of his forehead. I thought
that he was perfectly hateful--and I was sure that Cyril would not
wish me to know such a person."
"Oh, Cyril is his name!" said Holmes, smiling.
The young lady blushed and laughed.
"Yes, Mr. Holmes; Cyril Morton, an electrical engineer, and we hope
to be married at the end of the summer. Dear me, how did I get
talking about him? What I wished to say was that Mr. Woodley was
perfectly odious, but that Mr. Carruthers, who was a much older man,
was more agreeable. He was a dark, sallow, clean-shaven, silent
person; but he had polite manners and a pleasant smile. He inquired
how we were left, and on finding that we were very poor he suggested
that I should come and teach music to his only daughter, aged ten. I
said that I did not like to leave my mother, on which he suggested
that I should go home to her every week-end, and he offered me a
hundred a year, which was certainly splendid pay. So it ended by my
accepting, and I went down to Chiltern Grange, about six miles from
Farnham. Mr. Carruthers was a widower, but he had engaged a
lady-housekeeper, a very respectable, elderly person, called Mrs.
Dixon, to look after his establishment. The child was a dear, and
everything promised well. Mr. Carruthers was very kind and very
musical, and we had most pleasant evenings together. Every week-end I
went home to my mother in town.
"The first flaw in my happiness was the arrival of the red-moustached
Mr. Woodley. He came for a visit of a week, and oh, it seemed three
months to me! He was a dreadful person, a bully to everyone else, but
to me something infinitely worse. He made odious love to me, boasted
of his wealth, said that if I married him I would have the finest
diamonds in London, and finally, when I would have nothing to do with
him, he seized me in his arms one day after dinner--he was hideously
strong--and he swore that he would not let me go until I had kissed
him. Mr. Carruthers came in and tore him off from me, on which he
turned upon his own host, knocking him down and cutting his face
open. That was the end of his visit, as you can imagine. Mr.
Carruthers apologized to me next day, and assured me that I should
never be exposed to such an insult again. I have not seen Mr. Woodley
since.
"And now, Mr. Holmes, I come at last to the special thing which has
caused me to ask your advice to-day. You must know that every
Saturday forenoon I ride on my bicycle to Farnham Station in order to
get the 12.22 to town. The road from Chiltern Grange is a lonely one,
and at one spot it is particularly so, for it lies for over a mile
between Charlington Heath upon one side and the woods which lie round
Charlington Hall upon the other. You could not find a more lonely
tract of road anywhere, and it is quite rare to meet so much as a
cart, or a peasant, until you reach the high road near Crooksbury
Hill. Two weeks ago I was passing this place when I chanced to look
back over my shoulder, and about two hundred yards behind me I saw a
man, also on a bicycle. He seemed to be a middle-aged man, with a
short, dark beard. I looked back before I reached Farnham, but the
man was gone, so I thought no more about it. But you can imagine how
surprised I was, Mr. Holmes, when on my return on the Monday I saw
the same man on the same stretch of road. My astonishment was
increased when the incident occurred again, exactly as before, on the
following Saturday and Monday. He always kept his distance and did
not molest me in any way, but still it certainly was very odd. I
mentioned it to Mr. Carruthers, who seemed interested in what I said,
and told me that he had ordered a horse and trap, so that in future I
should not pass over these lonely roads without some companion.
"The horse and trap were to have come this week, but for some reason
they were not delivered, and again I had to cycle to the station.
That was this morning. You can think that I looked out when I came to
Charlington Heath, and there, sure enough, was the man, exactly as he
had been the two weeks before. He always kept so far from me that I
could not clearly see his face, but it was certainly someone whom I
did not know. He was dressed in a dark suit with a cloth cap. The
only thing about his face that I could clearly see was his dark
beard. To-day I was not alarmed, but I was filled with curiosity, and
I determined to find out who he was and what he wanted. I slowed down
my machine, but he slowed down his. Then I stopped altogether, but he
stopped also. Then I laid a trap for him. There is a sharp turning of
the road, and I pedalled very quickly round this, and then I stopped
and waited. I expected him to shoot round and pass me before he could
stop. But he never appeared. Then I went back and looked round the
corner. I could see a mile of road, but he was not on it. To make it
the more extraordinary, there was no side road at this point down
which he could have gone."
Holmes chuckled and rubbed his hands. "This case certainly presents
some features of its own," said he. "How much time elapsed between
your turning the corner and your discovery that the road was clear?"
"Two or three minutes."
"Then he could not have retreated down the road, and you say that
there are no side roads?"
"None."
"Then he certainly took a footpath on one side or the other."
"It could not have been on the side of the heath or I should have
seen him."
"So by the process of exclusion we arrive at the fact that he made
his way towards Charlington Hall, which, as I understand, is situated
in its own grounds on one side of the road. Anything else?"
"Nothing, Mr. Holmes, save that I was so perplexed that I felt I
should not be happy until I had seen you and had your advice."
Holmes sat in silence for some little time.
"Where is the gentleman to whom you are engaged?" he asked, at last.
