"His absence was discovered at seven o'clock on Tuesday morning. His
bed had been slept in. He had dressed himself fully before going off
in his usual school suit of black Eton jacket and dark grey trousers.
There were no signs that anyone had entered the room, and it is quite
certain that anything in the nature of cries, or a struggle, would
have been heard, since Caunter, the elder boy in the inner room, is a
very light sleeper.
"When Lord Saltire's disappearance was discovered I at once called a
roll of the whole establishment, boys, masters, and servants. It was
then that we ascertained that Lord Saltire had not been alone in his
flight. Heidegger, the German master, was missing. His room was on
the second floor, at the farther end of the building, facing the same
way as Lord Saltire's. His bed had also been slept in; but he had
apparently gone away partly dressed, since his shirt and socks were
lying on the floor. He had undoubtedly let himself down by the ivy,
for we could see the marks of his feet where he had landed on the
lawn. His bicycle was kept in a small shed beside this lawn, and it
also was gone.
"He had been with me for two years, and came with the best
references; but he was a silent, morose man, not very popular either
with masters or boys. No trace could be found of the fugitives, and
now on Thursday morning we are as ignorant as we were on Tuesday.
Inquiry was, of course, made at once at Holdernesse Hall. It is only
a few miles away, and we imagined that in some sudden attack of
home-sickness he had gone back to his father; but nothing had been
heard of him. The Duke is greatly agitated--and as to me, you have
seen yourselves the state of nervous prostration to which the
suspense and the responsibility have reduced me. Mr. Holmes, if ever
you put forward your full powers, I implore you to do so now, for
never in your life could you have a case which is more worthy of
them."
Sherlock Holmes had listened with the utmost intentness to the
statement of the unhappy schoolmaster. His drawn brows and the deep
furrow between them showed that he needed no exhortation to
concentrate all his attention upon a problem which, apart from the
tremendous interests involved, must appeal so directly to his love of
the complex and the unusual. He now drew out his note-book and jotted
down one or two memoranda.
"You have been very remiss in not coming to me sooner," said he,
severely. "You start me on my investigation with a very serious
handicap. It is inconceivable, for example, that this ivy and this
lawn would have yielded nothing to an expert observer."
"I am not to blame, Mr. Holmes. His Grace was extremely desirous to
avoid all public scandal. He was afraid of his family unhappiness
being dragged before the world. He has a deep horror of anything of
the kind."
"But there has been some official investigation?"
"Yes, sir, and it has proved most disappointing. An apparent clue was
at once obtained, since a boy and a young man were reported to have
been seen leaving a neighbouring station by an early train. Only last
night we had news that the couple had been hunted down in Liverpool,
and they prove to have no connection whatever with the matter in
hand. Then it was that in my despair and disappointment, after a
sleepless night, I came straight to you by the early train."
"I suppose the local investigation was relaxed while this false clue
was being followed up?"
"It was entirely dropped."
"So that three days have been wasted. The affair has been most
deplorably handled."
"I feel it, and admit it."
"And yet the problem should be capable of ultimate solution. I shall
be very happy to look into it. Have you been able to trace any
connection between the missing boy and this German master?"
"None at all."
"Was he in the master's class?"
"No; he never exchanged a word with him so far as I know."
"That is certainly very singular. Had the boy a bicycle?"
"No."
"Was any other bicycle missing?"
"No."
"Is that certain?"
"Quite."
"Well, now, you do not mean to seriously suggest that this German
rode off upon a bicycle in the dead of the night bearing the boy in
his arms?"
"Certainly not."
"Then what is the theory in your mind?"
"The bicycle may have been a blind. It may have been hidden somewhere
and the pair gone off on foot."
"Quite so; but it seems rather an absurd blind, does it not? Were
there other bicycles in this shed?"
"Several."
"Would he not have hidden a couple he desired to give the idea that
they had gone off upon them?"
"I suppose he would."
"Of course he would. The blind theory won't do. But the incident is
an admirable starting-point for an investigation. After all, a
bicycle is not an easy thing to conceal or to destroy. One other
question. Did anyone call to see the boy on the day before he
disappeared?"
"No."
"Did he get any letters?"
"Yes; one letter."
"From whom?"
"From his father."
"Do you open the boys' letters?"
"No."
"How do you know it was from the father?"
"The coat of arms was on the envelope, and it was addressed in the
Duke's peculiar stiff hand. Besides, the Duke remembers having
written."
"When had he a letter before that?"
"Not for several days."
"Had he ever one from France?"
"No; never."
"You see the point of my questions, of course. Either the boy was
carried off by force or he went of his own free will. In the latter
case you would expect that some prompting from outside would be
needed to make so young a lad do such a thing. If he has had no
visitors, that prompting must have come in letters. Hence I try to
find out who were his correspondents."
"I fear I cannot help you much. His only correspondent, so far as I
know, was his own father."
"Who wrote to him on the very day of his disappearance. Were the
relations between father and son very friendly?"
"His Grace is never very friendly with anyone. He is completely
immersed in large public questions, and is rather inaccessible to all
ordinary emotions. But he was always kind to the boy in his own way."
"But the sympathies of the latter were with the mother?"
"Yes."
"Did he say so?"
"No."
"The Duke, then?"
"Good heavens, no!"
"Then how could you know?"
"I have had some confidential talks with Mr. James Wilder, his
Grace's secretary. It was he who gave me the information about Lord
Saltire's feelings."
"I see. By the way, that last letter of the Duke's--was it found in
the boy's room after he was gone?"
"No; he had taken it with him. I think, Mr. Holmes, it is time that
we were leaving for Euston."
"I will order a four-wheeler. In a quarter of an hour we shall be at
your service. If you are telegraphing home, Mr. Huxtable, it would be
well to allow the people in your neighbourhood to imagine that the
inquiry is still going on in Liverpool, or wherever else that red
herring led your pack. In the meantime I will do a little quiet work
at your own doors, and perhaps the scent is not so cold but that two
old hounds like Watson and myself may get a sniff of it."
That evening found us in the cold, bracing atmosphere of the Peak
country, in which Dr. Huxtable's famous school is situated. It was
already dark when we reached it. A card was lying on the hall table,
and the butler whispered something to his master, who turned to us
with agitation in every heavy feature.
"The Duke is here," said he. "The Duke and Mr. Wilder are in the
study. Come, gentlemen, and I will introduce you."
I was, of course, familiar with the pictures of the famous statesman,
but the man himself was very different from his representation. He
was a tall and stately person, scrupulously dressed, with a drawn,
thin face, and a nose which was grotesquely curved and long. His
complexion was of a dead pallor, which was more startling by contrast
with a long, dwindling beard of vivid red, which flowed down over his
white waistcoat, with his watch-chain gleaming through its fringe.
Such was the stately presence who looked stonily at us from the
centre of Dr. Huxtable's hearthrug. Beside him stood a very young
man, whom I understood to be Wilder, the private secretary. He was
small, nervous, alert, with intelligent, light-blue eyes and mobile
features. It was he who at once, in an incisive and positive tone,
opened the conversation.
"I called this morning, Dr. Huxtable, too late to prevent you from
starting for London. I learned that your object was to invite Mr.
Sherlock Holmes to undertake the conduct of this case. His Grace is
surprised, Dr. Huxtable, that you should have taken such a step
without consulting him."
"When I learned that the police had failed--"
"His Grace is by no means convinced that the police have failed."
"But surely, Mr. Wilder--"
"You are well aware, Dr. Huxtable, that his Grace is particularly
anxious to avoid all public scandal. He prefers to take as few people
as possible into his confidence."
"The matter can be easily remedied," said the brow-beaten doctor;
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes can return to London by the morning train."
"Hardly that, Doctor, hardly that," said Holmes, in his blandest
voice. "This northern air is invigorating and pleasant, so I propose
to spend a few days upon your moors, and to occupy my mind as best I
may. Whether I have the shelter of your roof or of the village inn
is, of course, for you to decide."
I could see that the unfortunate doctor was in the last stage of
indecision, from which he was rescued by the deep, sonorous voice of
the red-bearded Duke, which boomed out like a dinner-gong.
"I agree with Mr. Wilder, Dr. Huxtable, that you would have done
wisely to consult me. But since Mr. Holmes has already been taken
into your confidence, it would indeed be absurd that we should not
avail ourselves of his services. Far from going to the inn, Mr.
Holmes, I should be pleased if you would come and stay with me at
Holdernesse Hall."
"I thank your Grace. For the purposes of my investigation I think
that it would be wiser for me to remain at the scene of the mystery."
"Just as you like, Mr. Holmes. Any information which Mr. Wilder or I
can give you is, of course, at your disposal."
"It will probably be necessary for me to see you at the Hall," said
Holmes. "I would only ask you now, sir, whether you have formed any
explanation in your own mind as to the mysterious disappearance of
your son?"
"No, sir, I have not."
"Excuse me if I allude to that which is painful to you, but I have no
alternative. Do you think that the Duchess had anything to do with
the matter?"
The great Minister showed perceptible hesitation.
"I do not think so," he said, at last.
"The other most obvious explanation is that the child has been
kidnapped for the purpose of levying ransom. You have not had any
demand of the sort?"
"No, sir."
"One more question, your Grace. I understand that you wrote to your
son upon the day when this incident occurred."
"No; I wrote upon the day before."
"Exactly. But he received it on that day?"
"Yes."
"Was there anything in your letter which might have unbalanced him or
induced him to take such a step?"
"No, sir, certainly not."
"Did you post that letter yourself?"
The nobleman's reply was interrupted by his secretary, who broke in
with some heat.
"His Grace is not in the habit of posting letters himself," said he.
"This letter was laid with others upon the study table, and I myself
put them in the post-bag."
"You are sure this one was among them?"
"Yes; I observed it."
"How many letters did your Grace write that day?"
"Twenty or thirty. I have a large correspondence. But surely this is
somewhat irrelevant?"
"Not entirely," said Holmes.
"For my own part," the Duke continued, "I have advised the police to
turn their attention to the South of France. I have already said that
I do not believe that the Duchess would encourage so monstrous an
action, but the lad had the most wrong-headed opinions, and it is
possible that he may have fled to her, aided and abetted by this
