firm tread. She did not hear the study door close, but a minute or so
later there was a dreadful cry in the room below. It was a wild,
hoarse scream, so strange and unnatural that it might have come
either from a man or a woman. At the same instant there was a heavy
thud, which shook the old house, and then all was silence. The maid
stood petrified for a moment, and then, recovering her courage, she
ran downstairs. The study door was shut, and she opened it. Inside
young Mr. Willoughby Smith was stretched upon the floor. At first she
could see no injury, but as she tried to raise him she saw that blood
was pouring from the underside of his neck. It was pierced by a very
small but very deep wound, which had divided the carotid artery. The
instrument with which the injury had been inflicted lay upon the
carpet beside him. It was one of those small sealing-wax knives to be
found on old-fashioned writing-tables, with an ivory handle and a
stiff blade. It was part of the fittings of the Professor's own desk.
"At first the maid thought that young Smith was already dead, but on
pouring some water from the carafe over his forehead he opened his
eyes for an instant. 'The Professor,' he murmured--'it was she.' The
maid is prepared to swear that those were the exact words. He tried
desperately to say something else, and he held his right hand up in
the air. Then he fell back dead.
"In the meantime the housekeeper had also arrived upon the scene, but
she was just too late to catch the young man's dying words. Leaving
Susan with the body, she hurried to the Professor's room. He was
sitting up in bed horribly agitated, for he had heard enough to
convince him that something terrible had occurred. Mrs. Marker is
prepared to swear that the Professor was still in his night-clothes,
and, indeed, it was impossible for him to dress without the help of
Mortimer, whose orders were to come at twelve o'clock. The Professor
declares that he heard the distant cry, but that he knows nothing
more. He can give no explanation of the young man's last words, 'The
Professor--it was she,' but imagines that they were the outcome of
delirium. He believes that Willoughby Smith had not an enemy in the
world, and can give no reason for the crime. His first action was to
send Mortimer the gardener for the local police. A little later the
chief constable sent for me. Nothing was moved before I got there,
and strict orders were given that no one should walk upon the paths
leading to the house. It was a splendid chance of putting your
theories into practice, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. There was really nothing
wanting."
"Except Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said my companion, with a somewhat
bitter smile. "Well, let us hear about it. What sort of job did you
make of it?"
"I must ask you first, Mr. Holmes, to glance at this rough plan,
which will give you a general idea of the position of the Professor's
study and the various points of the case. It will help you in
following my investigation."
He unfolded the rough chart, which I here reproduce, and he laid it
across Holmes's knee. I rose, and, standing behind Holmes, I studied
it over his shoulder.
"It is very rough, of course, and it only deals with the points which
seem to me to be essential. All the rest you will see later for
yourself. Now, first of all, presuming that the assassin entered the
house, how did he or she come in? Undoubtedly by the garden path and
the back door, from which there is direct access to the study. Any
other way would have been exceedingly complicated. The escape must
have also been made along that line, for of the two other exits from
the room one was blocked by Susan as she ran downstairs and the other
leads straight to the Professor's bedroom. I therefore directed my
attention at once to the garden path, which was saturated with recent
rain and would certainly show any footmarks.
"My examination showed me that I was dealing with a cautious and
expert criminal. No footmarks were to be found on the path. There
could be no question, however, that someone had passed along the
grass border which lines the path, and that he had done so in order
to avoid leaving a track. I could not find anything in the nature of
a distinct impression, but the grass was trodden down and someone had
undoubtedly passed. It could only have been the murderer, since
neither the gardener nor anyone else had been there that morning and
the rain had only begun during the night."
"One moment," said Holmes. "Where does this path lead to?"
"To the road."
"How long is it?"
"A hundred yards or so."
"At the point where the path passes through the gate you could surely
pick up the tracks?"
"Unfortunately, the path was tiled at that point."
"Well, on the road itself?"
"No; it was all trodden into mire."
"Tut-tut! Well, then, these tracks upon the grass, were they coming
or going?"
"It was impossible to say. There was never any outline."
"A large foot or a small?"
"You could not distinguish."
Holmes gave an ejaculation of impatience.
"It has been pouring rain and blowing a hurricane ever since," said
he. "It will be harder to read now than that palimpsest. Well, well,
it can't be helped. What did you do, Hopkins, after you had made
certain that you had made certain of nothing?"
"I think I made certain of a good deal, Mr. Holmes. I knew that
someone had entered the house cautiously from without. I next
examined the corridor. It is lined with cocoanut matting and had
taken no impression of any kind. This brought me into the study
itself. It is a scantily-furnished room. The main article is a large
writing-table with a fixed bureau. This bureau consists of a double
column of drawers with a central small cupboard between them. The
drawers were open, the cupboard locked. The drawers, it seems, were
always open, and nothing of value was kept in them. There were some
papers of importance in the cupboard, but there were no signs that
this had been tampered with, and the Professor assures me that
nothing was missing. It is certain that no robbery has been
committed.
"I come now to the body of the young man. It was found near the
bureau, and just to the left of it, as marked upon that chart. The
stab was on the right side of the neck and from behind forwards, so
that it is almost impossible that it could have been self-inflicted."
"Unless he fell upon the knife," said Holmes.
"Exactly. The idea crossed my mind. But we found the knife some feet
away from the body, so that seems impossible. Then, of course, there
are the man's own dying words. And, finally, there was this very
important piece of evidence which was found clasped in the dead man's
right hand."
From his pocket Stanley Hopkins drew a small paper packet. He
unfolded it and disclosed a golden pince-nez, with two broken ends of
black silk cord dangling from the end of it. "Willoughby Smith had
excellent sight," he added. "There can be no question that this was
snatched from the face or the person of the assassin."
Sherlock Holmes took the glasses into his hand and examined them with
the utmost attention and interest. He held them on his nose,
endeavoured to read through them, went to the window and stared up
the street with them, looked at them most minutely in the full light
of the lamp, and finally, with a chuckle, seated himself at the table
and wrote a few lines upon a sheet of paper, which he tossed across
to Stanley Hopkins.
"That's the best I can do for you," said he. "It may prove to be of
some use."
The astonished detective read the note aloud. It ran as follows:
"Wanted, a woman of good address, attired like a lady. She has a
remarkably thick nose, with eyes which are set close upon either side
of it. She has a puckered forehead, a peering expression, and
probably rounded shoulders. There are indications that she has had
recourse to an optician at least twice during the last few months. As
her glasses are of remarkable strength and as opticians are not very
numerous, there should be no difficulty in tracing her."
Holmes smiled at the astonishment of Hopkins, which must have been
reflected upon my features.
"Surely my deductions are simplicity itself," said he. "It would be
difficult to name any articles which afford a finer field for
inference than a pair of glasses, especially so remarkable a pair as
these. That they belong to a woman I infer from their delicacy, and
also, of course, from the last words of the dying man. As to her
being a person of refinement and well dressed, they are, as you
perceive, handsomely mounted in solid gold, and it is inconceivable
that anyone who wore such glasses could be slatternly in other
respects. You will find that the clips are too wide for your nose,
showing that the lady's nose was very broad at the base. This sort of
nose is usually a short and coarse one, but there are a sufficient
number of exceptions to prevent me from being dogmatic or from
insisting upon this point in my description. My own face is a narrow
one, and yet I find that I cannot get my eyes into the centre, or
near the centre, of these glasses. Therefore the lady's eyes are set
very near to the sides of the nose. You will perceive, Watson, that
the glasses are concave and of unusual strength. A lady whose vision
has been so extremely contracted all her life is sure to have the
physical characteristics of such vision, which are seen in the
forehead, the eyelids, and the shoulders."
"Yes," I said, "I can follow each of your arguments. I confess,
however, that I am unable to understand how you arrive at the double
visit to the optician."
Holmes took the glasses in his hand.
"You will perceive," he said, "that the clips are lined with tiny
bands of cork to soften the pressure upon the nose. One of these is
discoloured and worn to some slight extent, but the other is new.
Evidently one has fallen off and been replaced. I should judge that
the older of them has not been there more than a few months. They
exactly correspond, so I gather that the lady went back to the same
establishment for the second."
"By George, it's marvellous!" cried Hopkins, in an ecstasy of
admiration. "To think that I had all that evidence in my hand and
never knew it! I had intended, however, to go the round of the London
opticians."
"Of course you would. Meanwhile, have you anything more to tell us
about the case?"
"Nothing, Mr. Holmes. I think that you know as much as I do
now--probably more. We have had inquiries made as to any stranger
seen on the country roads or at the railway station. We have heard of
none. What beats me is the utter want of all object in the crime. Not
a ghost of a motive can anyone suggest."
"Ah! there I am not in a position to help you. But I suppose you want
us to come out to-morrow?"
"If it is not asking too much, Mr. Holmes. There's a train from
Charing Cross to Chatham at six in the morning, and we should be at
Yoxley Old Place between eight and nine."
"Then we shall take it. Your case has certainly some features of
great interest, and I shall be delighted to look into it. Well, it's
nearly one, and we had best get a few hours' sleep. I dare say you
can manage all right on the sofa in front of the fire. I'll light my
spirit-lamp and give you a cup of coffee before we start."
The gale had blown itself out next day, but it was a bitter morning
when we started upon our journey. We saw the cold winter sun rise
over the dreary marshes of the Thames and the long, sullen reaches of
the river, which I shall ever associate with our pursuit of the
Andaman Islander in the earlier days of our career. After a long and
weary journey we alighted at a small station some miles from Chatham.
While a horse was being put into a trap at the local inn we snatched
a hurried breakfast, and so we were all ready for business when we at
last arrived at Yoxley Old Place. A constable met us at the garden
gate.
"Well, Wilson, any news?"
"No, sir, nothing."
"No reports of any stranger seen?"
"No, sir. Down at the station they are certain that no stranger
either came or went yesterday."
"Have you had inquiries made at inns and lodgings?"
"Yes, sir; there is no one that we cannot account for."
"Well, it's only a reasonable walk to Chatham. Anyone might stay
there, or take a train without being observed. This is the garden
path of which I spoke, Mr. Holmes. I'll pledge my word there was no
mark on it yesterday."
"On which side were the marks on the grass?"
"This side, sir. This narrow margin of grass between the path and the
