done?"
"Because it is frayed there?"
"Exactly. This end, which we can examine, is frayed. He was cunning
enough to do that with his knife. But the other end is not frayed.
You could not observe that from here, but if you were on the
mantelpiece you would see that it is cut clean off without any mark
of fraying whatever. You can reconstruct what occurred. The man
needed the rope. He would not tear it down for fear of giving the
alarm by ringing the bell. What did he do? He sprang up on the
mantelpiece, could not quite reach it, put his knee on the
bracket--you will see the impression in the dust--and so got his
knife to bear upon the cord. I could not reach the place by at least
three inches, from which I infer that he is at least three inches a
bigger man than I. Look at that mark upon the seat of the oaken
chair! What is it?"
"Blood."
"Undoubtedly it is blood. This alone puts the lady's story out of
court. If she were seated on the chair when the crime was done, how
comes that mark? No, no; she was placed in the chair after the death
of her husband. I'll wager that the black dress shows a corresponding
mark to this. We have not yet met our Waterloo, Watson, but this is
our Marengo, for it begins in defeat and ends in victory. I should
like now to have a few words with the nurse Theresa. We must be wary
for awhile, if we are to get the information which we want."
She was an interesting person, this stern Australian nurse. Taciturn,
suspicious, ungracious, it took some time before Holmes's pleasant
manner and frank acceptance of all that she said thawed her into a
corresponding amiability. She did not attempt to conceal her hatred
for her late employer.
"Yes, sir, it is true that he threw the decanter at me. I heard him
call my mistress a name, and I told him that he would not dare to
speak so if her brother had been there. Then it was that he threw it
at me. He might have thrown a dozen if he had but left my bonny bird
alone. He was for ever illtreating her, and she too proud to
complain. She will not even tell me all that he has done to her. She
never told me of those marks on her arm that you saw this morning,
but I know very well that they come from a stab with a hat-pin. The
sly fiend--Heaven forgive me that I should speak of him so, now that
he is dead, but a fiend he was if ever one walked the earth. He was
all honey when first we met him, only eighteen months ago, and we
both feel as if it were eighteen years. She had only just arrived in
London. Yes, it was her first voyage--she had never been from home
before. He won her with his title and his money and his false London
ways. If she made a mistake she has paid for it, if ever a woman did.
What month did we meet him? Well, I tell you it was just after we
arrived. We arrived in June, and it was July. They were married in
January of last year. Yes, she is down in the morning-room again, and
I have no doubt she will see you, but you must not ask too much of
her, for she has gone through all that flesh and blood will stand."
Lady Brackenstall was reclining on the same couch, but looked
brighter than before. The maid had entered with us, and began once
more to foment the bruise upon her mistress's brow.
"I hope," said the lady, "that you have not come to cross-examine me
again?"
"No," Holmes answered, in his gentlest voice, "I will not cause you
any unnecessary trouble, Lady Brackenstall, and my whole desire is to
make things easy for you, for I am convinced that you are a
much-tried woman. If you will treat me as a friend and trust me you
may find that I will justify your trust."
"What do you want me to do?"
"To tell me the truth."
"Mr. Holmes!"
"No, no, Lady Brackenstall, it is no use. You may have heard of any
little reputation which I possess. I will stake it all on the fact
that your story is an absolute fabrication."
Mistress and maid were both staring at Holmes with pale faces and
frightened eyes.
"You are an impudent fellow!" cried Theresa. "Do you mean to say that
my mistress has told a lie?"
Holmes rose from his chair.
"Have you nothing to tell me?"
"I have told you everything."
"Think once more, Lady Brackenstall. Would it not be better to be
frank?"
For an instant there was hesitation in her beautiful face. Then some
new strong thought caused it to set like a mask.
"I have told you all I know."
Holmes took his hat and shrugged his shoulders. "I am sorry," he
said, and without another word we left the room and the house. There
was a pond in the park, and to this my friend led the way. It was
frozen over, but a single hole was left for the convenience of a
solitary swan. Holmes gazed at it and then passed on to the lodge
gate. There he scribbled a short note for Stanley Hopkins and left it
with the lodge-keeper.
"It may be a hit or it may be a miss, but we are bound to do
something for friend Hopkins, just to justify this second visit,"
said he. "I will not quite take him into my confidence yet. I think
our next scene of operations must be the shipping office of the
Adelaide-Southampton line, which stands at the end of Pall Mall, if I
remember right. There is a second line of steamers which connect
South Australia with England, but we will draw the larger cover
first."
Holmes's card sent in to the manager ensured instant attention, and
he was not long in acquiring all the information which he needed. In
June of '95 only one of their line had reached a home port. It was
the Rock of Gibraltar, their largest and best boat. A reference to
the passenger list showed that Miss Fraser of Adelaide, with her
maid, had made the voyage in her. The boat was now on her way to
Australia, somewhere to the south of the Suez Canal. Her officers
were the same as in '95, with one exception. The first officer, Mr.
Jack Croker, had been made a captain and was to take charge of their
new ship, the Bass Rock, sailing in two days' time from Southampton.
He lived at Sydenham, but he was likely to be in that morning for
instructions, if we cared to wait for him.
No; Mr. Holmes had no desire to see him, but would be glad to know
more about his record and character.
His record was magnificent. There was not an officer in the fleet to
touch him. As to his character, he was reliable on duty, but a wild,
desperate fellow off the deck of his ship, hot-headed, excitable, but
loyal, honest, and kind-hearted. That was the pith of the information
with which Holmes left the office of the Adelaide-Southampton
company. Thence he drove to Scotland Yard, but instead of entering he
sat in his cab with his brows drawn down, lost in profound thought.
Finally he drove round to the Charing Cross telegraph office, sent
off a message, and then, at last, we made for Baker Street once more.
"No, I couldn't do it, Watson," said he, as we re-entered our room.
"Once that warrant was made out nothing on earth would save him. Once
or twice in my career I feel that I have done more real harm by my
discovery of the criminal than ever he had done by his crime. I have
learned caution now, and I had rather play tricks with the law of
England than with my own conscience. Let us know a little more before
we act."
Before evening we had a visit from Inspector Stanley Hopkins. Things
were not going very well with him.
"I believe that you are a wizard, Mr. Holmes. I really do sometimes
think that you have powers that are not human. Now, how on earth
could you know that the stolen silver was at the bottom of that
pond?"
"I didn't know it."
"But you told me to examine it."
"You got it, then?"
"Yes, I got it."
"I am very glad if I have helped you."
"But you haven't helped me. You have made the affair far more
difficult. What sort of burglars are they who steal silver and then
throw it into the nearest pond?"
"It was certainly rather eccentric behaviour. I was merely going on
the idea that if the silver had been taken by persons who did not
want it, who merely took it for a blind as it were, then they would
naturally be anxious to get rid of it."
"But why should such an idea cross your mind?"
"Well, I thought it was possible. When they came out through the
French window there was the pond, with one tempting little hole in
the ice, right in front of their noses. Could there be a better
hiding-place?"
"Ah, a hiding-place--that is better!" cried Stanley Hopkins. "Yes,
yes, I see it all now! It was early, there were folk upon the roads,
they were afraid of being seen with the silver, so they sank it in
the pond, intending to return for it when the coast was clear.
Excellent, Mr. Holmes--that is better than your idea of a blind."
"Quite so; you have got an admirable theory. I have no doubt that my
own ideas were quite wild, but you must admit that they have ended in
discovering the silver."
"Yes, sir, yes. It was all your doing. But I have had a bad
set-back."
"A set-back?"
"Yes, Mr. Holmes. The Randall gang were arrested in New York this
morning."
"Dear me, Hopkins! That is certainly rather against your theory that
they committed a murder in Kent last night."
"It is fatal, Mr. Holmes, absolutely fatal. Still, there are other
gangs of three besides the Randalls, or it may be some new gang of
which the police have never heard."
"Quite so; it is perfectly possible. What, are you off?"
"Yes, Mr. Holmes; there is no rest for me until I have got to the
bottom of the business. I suppose you have no hint to give me?"
"I have given you one."
"Which?"
"Well, I suggested a blind."
"But why, Mr. Holmes, why?"
"Ah, that's the question, of course. But I commend the idea to your
mind. You might possibly find that there was something in it. You
won't stop for dinner? Well, good-bye, and let us know how you get
on."
Dinner was over and the table cleared before Holmes alluded to the
matter again. He had lit his pipe and held his slippered feet to the
cheerful blaze of the fire. Suddenly he looked at his watch.
"I expect developments, Watson."
"When?"
"Now--within a few minutes. I dare say you thought I acted rather
badly to Stanley Hopkins just now?"
"I trust your judgment."
"A very sensible reply, Watson. You must look at it this way: what I
know is unofficial; what he knows is official. I have the right to
private judgment, but he has none. He must disclose all, or he is a
traitor to his service. In a doubtful case I would not put him in so
painful a position, and so I reserve my information until my own mind
is clear upon the matter."
"But when will that be?"
"The time has come. You will now be present at the last scene of a
remarkable little drama."
There was a sound upon the stairs, and our door was opened to admit
as fine a specimen of manhood as ever passed through it. He was a
very tall young man, golden-moustached, blue-eyed, with a skin which
had been burned by tropical suns, and a springy step which showed
that the huge frame was as active as it was strong. He closed the
door behind him, and then he stood with clenched hands and heaving
breast, choking down some overmastering emotion.
"Sit down, Captain Croker. You got my telegram?"
Our visitor sank into an arm-chair and looked from one to the other
of us with questioning eyes.
"I got your telegram, and I came at the hour you said. I heard that
you had been down to the office. There was no getting away from you.
Let's hear the worst. What are you going to do with me? Arrest me?
Speak out, man! You can't sit there and play with me like a cat with
a mouse."
"Give him a cigar," said Holmes. "Bite on that, Captain Croker, and
don't let your nerves run away with you. I should not sit here
smoking with you if I thought that you were a common criminal, you
may be sure of that. Be frank with me, and we may do some good. Play
tricks with me, and I'll crush you."
"What do you wish me to do?"
"To give me a true account of all that happened at the Abbey Grange
last night--a true account, mind you, with nothing added and nothing
taken off. I know so much already that if you go one inch off the
straight I'll blow this police whistle from my window and the affair
goes out of my hands for ever."
The sailor thought for a little. Then he struck his leg with his
great, sun-burned hand.
"I'll chance it," he cried. "I believe you are a man of your word,
and a white man, and I'll tell you the whole story. But one thing I
