square, massive face, the brooding eyes under the thatched brows, and
the granite moulding of the inflexible jaw. A man of deep character,
a man with an alert mind, grim, ascetic, self-contained,
formidable--so I read Dr. Leslie Armstrong. He held my friend's card
in his hand, and he looked up with no very pleased expression upon
his dour features.
"I have heard your name, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, and I am aware of your
profession, one of which I by no means approve."
"In that, doctor, you will find yourself in agreement with every
criminal in the country," said my friend, quietly.
"So far as your efforts are directed towards the suppression of
crime, sir, they must have the support of every reasonable member of
the community, though I cannot doubt that the official machinery is
amply sufficient for the purpose. Where your calling is more open to
criticism is when you pry into the secrets of private individuals,
when you rake up family matters which are better hidden, and when you
incidentally waste the time of men who are more busy than yourself.
At the present moment, for example, I should be writing a treatise
instead of conversing with you."
"No doubt, doctor; and yet the conversation may prove more important
than the treatise. Incidentally I may tell you that we are doing the
reverse of what you very justly blame, and that we are endeavouring
to prevent anything like public exposure of private matters which
must necessarily follow when once the case is fairly in the hands of
the official police. You may look upon me simply as an irregular
pioneer who goes in front of the regular forces of the country. I
have come to ask you about Mr. Godfrey Staunton."
"What about him?"
"You know him, do you not?"
"He is an intimate friend of mine."
"You are aware that he has disappeared?"
"Ah, indeed!" There was no change of expression in the rugged
features of the doctor.
"He left his hotel last night. He has not been heard of."
"No doubt he will return."
"To-morrow is the 'Varsity football match."
"I have no sympathy with these childish games. The young man's fate
interests me deeply, since I know him and like him. The football
match does not come within my horizon at all."
"I claim your sympathy, then, in my investigation of Mr. Staunton's
fate. Do you know where he is?"
"Certainly not."
"You have not seen him since yesterday?"
"No, I have not."
"Was Mr. Staunton a healthy man?"
"Absolutely."
"Did you ever know him ill?"
"Never."
Holmes popped a sheet of paper before the doctor's eyes. "Then
perhaps you will explain this receipted bill for thirteen guineas,
paid by Mr. Godfrey Staunton last month to Dr. Leslie Armstrong of
Cambridge. I picked it out from among the papers upon his desk."
The doctor flushed with anger.
"I do not feel that there is any reason why I should render an
explanation to you, Mr. Holmes."
Holmes replaced the bill in his note-book. "If you prefer a public
explanation it must come sooner or later," said he. "I have already
told you that I can hush up that which others will be bound to
publish, and you would really be wiser to take me into your complete
confidence."
"I know nothing about it."
"Did you hear from Mr. Staunton in London?"
"Certainly not."
"Dear me, dear me; the post-office again!" Holmes sighed, wearily. "A
most urgent telegram was dispatched to you from London by Godfrey
Staunton at six-fifteen yesterday evening--a telegram which is
undoubtedly associated with his disappearance--and yet you have not
had it. It is most culpable. I shall certainly go down to the office
here and register a complaint."
Dr. Leslie Armstrong sprang up from behind his desk, and his dark
face was crimson with fury.
"I'll trouble you to walk out of my house, sir," said he. "You can
tell your employer, Lord Mount-James, that I do not wish to have
anything to do either with him or with his agents. No, sir, not
another word!" He rang the bell furiously. "John, show these
gentlemen out!" A pompous butler ushered us severely to the door, and
we found ourselves in the street. Holmes burst out laughing.
"Dr. Leslie Armstrong is certainly a man of energy and character,"
said he. "I have not seen a man who, if he turned his talents that
way, was more calculated to fill the gap left by the illustrious
Moriarty. And now, my poor Watson, here we are, stranded and
friendless in this inhospitable town, which we cannot leave without
abandoning our case. This little inn just opposite Armstrong's house
is singularly adapted to our needs. If you would engage a front room
and purchase the necessaries for the night, I may have time to make a
few inquiries."
These few inquiries proved, however, to be a more lengthy proceeding
than Holmes had imagined, for he did not return to the inn until
nearly nine o'clock. He was pale and dejected, stained with dust, and
exhausted with hunger and fatigue. A cold supper was ready upon the
table, and when his needs were satisfied and his pipe alight he was
ready to take that half comic and wholly philosophic view which was
natural to him when his affairs were going awry. The sound of
carriage wheels caused him to rise and glance out of the window. A
brougham and pair of greys under the glare of a gas-lamp stood before
the doctor's door.
"It's been out three hours," said Holmes; "started at half-past six,
and here it is back again. That gives a radius of ten or twelve
miles, and he does it once, or sometimes twice, a day."
"No unusual thing for a doctor in practice."
"But Armstrong is not really a doctor in practice. He is a lecturer
and a consultant, but he does not care for general practice, which
distracts him from his literary work. Why, then, does he make these
long journeys, which must be exceedingly irksome to him, and who is
it that he visits?"
"His coachman--"
"My dear Watson, can you doubt that it was to him that I first
applied? I do not know whether it came from his own innate depravity
or from the promptings of his master, but he was rude enough to set a
dog at me. Neither dog nor man liked the look of my stick, however,
and the matter fell through. Relations were strained after that, and
further inquiries out of the question. All that I have learned I got
from a friendly native in the yard of our own inn. It was he who told
me of the doctor's habits and of his daily journey. At that instant,
to give point to his words, the carriage came round to the door."
"Could you not follow it?"
"Excellent, Watson! You are scintillating this evening. The idea did
cross my mind. There is, as you may have observed, a bicycle shop
next to our inn. Into this I rushed, engaged a bicycle, and was able
to get started before the carriage was quite out of sight. I rapidly
overtook it, and then, keeping at a discreet distance of a hundred
yards or so, I followed its lights until we were clear of the town.
We had got well out on the country road when a somewhat mortifying
incident occurred. The carriage stopped, the doctor alighted, walked
swiftly back to where I had also halted, and told me in an excellent
sardonic fashion that he feared the road was narrow, and that he
hoped his carriage did not impede the passage of my bicycle. Nothing
could have been more admirable than his way of putting it. I at once
rode past the carriage, and, keeping to the main road, I went on for
a few miles, and then halted in a convenient place to see if the
carriage passed. There was no sign of it, however, and so it became
evident that it had turned down one of several side roads which I had
observed. I rode back, but again saw nothing of the carriage, and
now, as you perceive, it has returned after me. Of course, I had at
the outset no particular reason to connect these journeys with the
disappearance of Godfrey Staunton, and was only inclined to
investigate them on the general grounds that everything which
concerns Dr. Armstrong is at present of interest to us; but, now that
I find he keeps so keen a look-out upon anyone who may follow him on
these excursions, the affair appears more important, and I shall not
be satisfied until I have made the matter clear."
"We can follow him to-morrow."
"Can we? It is not so easy as you seem to think. You are not familiar
with Cambridgeshire scenery, are you? It does not lend itself to
concealment. All this country that I passed over to-night is as flat
and clean as the palm of your hand, and the man we are following is
no fool, as he very clearly showed to-night. I have wired to Overton
to let us know any fresh London developments at this address, and in
the meantime we can only concentrate our attention upon Dr.
Armstrong, whose name the obliging young lady at the office allowed
me to read upon the counterfoil of Staunton's urgent message. He
knows where the young man is--to that I'll swear--and if he knows,
then it must be our own fault if we cannot manage to know also. At
present it must be admitted that the odd trick is in his possession,
and, as you are aware, Watson, it is not my habit to leave the game
in that condition."
And yet the next day brought us no nearer to the solution of the
mystery. A note was handed in after breakfast, which Holmes passed
across to me with a smile.
Sir [it ran]:
I can assure you that you are wasting your time in dogging my
movements. I have, as you discovered last night, a window at the back
of my brougham, and if you desire a twenty-mile ride which will lead
you to the spot from which you started, you have only to follow me.
Meanwhile, I can inform you that no spying upon me can in any way
help Mr. Godfrey Staunton, and I am convinced that the best service
you can do to that gentleman is to return at once to London and to
report to your employer that you are unable to trace him. Your time
in Cambridge will certainly be wasted.
Yours faithfully,
Leslie Armstrong.
"An outspoken, honest antagonist is the doctor," said Holmes. "Well,
well, he excites my curiosity, and I must really know more before I
leave him."
"His carriage is at his door now," said I. "There he is stepping into
it. I saw him glance up at our window as he did so. Suppose I try my
luck upon the bicycle?"
"No, no, my dear Watson! With all respect for your natural acumen I
do not think that you are quite a match for the worthy doctor. I
think that possibly I can attain our end by some independent
explorations of my own. I am afraid that I must leave you to your own
devices, as the appearance of two inquiring strangers upon a sleepy
countryside might excite more gossip than I care for. No doubt you
will find some sights to amuse you in this venerable city, and I hope
to bring back a more favourable report to you before evening."
Once more, however, my friend was destined to be disappointed. He
came back at night weary and unsuccessful.
"I have had a blank day, Watson. Having got the doctor's general
direction, I spent the day in visiting all the villages upon that
side of Cambridge, and comparing notes with publicans and other local
news agencies. I have covered some ground: Chesterton, Histon,
Waterbeach, and Oakington have each been explored and have each
proved disappointing. The daily appearance of a brougham and pair
could hardly have been overlooked in such Sleepy Hollows. The doctor
has scored once more. Is there a telegram for me?"
"Yes; I opened it. Here it is:
"'Ask for Pompey from Jeremy Dixon, Trinity College.'
"I don't understand it."
"Oh, it is clear enough. It is from our friend Overton, and is in
answer to a question from me. I'll just send round a note to Mr.
Jeremy Dixon, and then I have no doubt that our luck will turn. By
the way, is there any news of the match?"
"Yes, the local evening paper has an excellent account in its last
edition. Oxford won by a goal and two tries. The last sentences of
the description say:
"'The defeat of the Light Blues may be entirely attributed to the
unfortunate absence of the crack International, Godfrey Staunton,
whose want was felt at every instant of the game. The lack of
combination in the three-quarter line and their weakness both in
attack and defence more than neutralized the efforts of a heavy and
hard-working pack.'"
"Then our friend Overton's forebodings have been justified," said
Holmes. "Personally I am in agreement with Dr. Armstrong, and
football does not come within my horizon. Early to bed to-night,
Watson, for I foresee that to-morrow may be an eventful day."
