the little country inn could do for us. I was already asleep when I
was partly awakened by his entrance.
"Well, Holmes," I murmured, "have you found anything out?"
He stood beside me in silence, his candle in his hand. Then the tall,
lean figure inclined towards me. "I say, Watson," he whispered,
"would you be afraid to sleep in the same room with a lunatic, a man
with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?"
"Not in the least," I answered in astonishment.
"Ah, that's lucky," he said, and not another word would he utter that
night.
CHAPTER VII
The Solution
Next morning, after breakfast, we found Inspector MacDonald and White
Mason seated in close consultation in the small parlour of the local
police sergeant. On the table in front of them were piled a number of
letters and telegrams, which they were carefully sorting and
docketing. Three had been placed on one side.
"Still on the track of the elusive bicyclist?" Holmes asked
cheerfully. "What is the latest news of the ruffian?"
MacDonald pointed ruefully to his heap of correspondence.
"He is at present reported from Leicester, Nottingham, Southampton,
Derby, East Ham, Richmond, and fourteen other places. In three of
them--East Ham, Leicester, and Liverpool--there is a clear case
against him, and he has actually been arrested. The country seems to
be full of the fugitives with yellow coats."
"Dear me!" said Holmes sympathetically. "Now, Mr. Mac and you, Mr.
White Mason, I wish to give you a very earnest piece of advice. When
I went into this case with you I bargained, as you will no doubt
remember, that I should not present you with half-proved theories,
but that I should retain and work out my own ideas until I had
satisfied myself that they were correct. For this reason I am not at
the present moment telling you all that is in my mind. On the other
hand, I said that I would play the game fairly by you, and I do not
think it is a fair game to allow you for one unnecessary moment to
waste your energies upon a profitless task. Therefore I am here to
advise you this morning, and my advice to you is summed up in three
words--abandon the case."
MacDonald and White Mason stared in amazement at their celebrated
colleague.
"You consider it hopeless!" cried the inspector.
"I consider your case to be hopeless. I do not consider that it is
hopeless to arrive at the truth."
"But this cyclist. He is not an invention. We have his description,
his valise, his bicycle. The fellow must be somewhere. Why should we
not get him?"
"Yes, yes, no doubt he is somewhere, and no doubt we shall get him;
but I would not have you waste your energies in East Ham or
Liverpool. I am sure that we can find some shorter cut to a result."
"You are holding something back. It's hardly fair of you, Mr.
Holmes." The inspector was annoyed.
"You know my methods of work, Mr. Mac. But I will hold it back for
the shortest time possible. I only wish to verify my details in one
way, which can very readily be done, and then I make my bow and
return to London, leaving my results entirely at your service. I owe
you too much to act otherwise; for in all my experience I cannot
recall any more singular and interesting study."
"This is clean beyond me, Mr. Holmes. We saw you when we returned
from Tunbridge Wells last night, and you were in general agreement
with our results. What has happened since then to give you a
completely new idea of the case?"
"Well, since you ask me, I spent, as I told you that I would, some
hours last night at the Manor House."
"Well, what happened?"
"Ah, I can only give you a very general answer to that for the
moment. By the way, I have been reading a short but clear and
interesting account of the old building, purchasable at the modest
sum of one penny from the local tobacconist."
Here Holmes drew a small tract, embellished with a rude engraving of
the ancient Manor House, from his waistcoat pocket.
"It immensely adds to the zest of an investigation, my dear Mr. Mac,
when one is in conscious sympathy with the historical atmosphere of
one's surroundings. Don't look so impatient; for I assure you that
even so bald an account as this raises some sort of picture of the
past in one's mind. Permit me to give you a sample. 'Erected in the
fifth year of the reign of James I, and standing upon the site of a
much older building, the Manor House of Birlstone presents one of the
finest surviving examples of the moated Jacobean residence--' "
"You are making fools of us, Mr. Holmes!"
"Tut, tut, Mr. Mac!--the first sign of temper I have detected in you.
Well, I won't read it verbatim, since you feel so strongly upon the
subject. But when I tell you that there is some account of the taking
of the place by a parliamentary colonel in 1644, of the concealment
of Charles for several days in the course of the Civil War, and
finally of a visit there by the second George, you will admit that
there are various associations of interest connected with this
ancient house."
"I don't doubt it, Mr. Holmes; but that is no business of ours."
"Is it not? Is it not? Breadth of view, my dear Mr. Mac, is one of
the essentials of our profession. The interplay of ideas and the
oblique uses of knowledge are often of extraordinary interest. You
will excuse these remarks from one who, though a mere connoisseur of
crime, is still rather older and perhaps more experienced than
yourself."
"I'm the first to admit that," said the detective heartily. "You get
to your point, I admit; but you have such a deuced round-the-corner
way of doing it."
"Well, well, I'll drop past history and get down to present-day
facts. I called last night, as I have already said, at the Manor
House. I did not see either Barker or Mrs. Douglas. I saw no
necessity to disturb them; but I was pleased to hear that the lady
was not visibly pining and that she had partaken of an excellent
dinner. My visit was specially made to the good Mr. Ames, with whom I
exchanged some amiabilities, which culminated in his allowing me,
without reference to anyone else, to sit alone for a time in the
study."
"What! With that?" I ejaculated.
"No, no, everything is now in order. You gave permission for that,
Mr. Mac, as I am informed. The room was in its normal state, and in
it I passed an instructive quarter of an hour."
"What were you doing?"
"Well, not to make a mystery of so simple a matter, I was looking for
the missing dumb-bell. It has always bulked rather large in my
estimate of the case. I ended by finding it."
"Where?"
"Ah, there we come to the edge of the unexplored. Let me go a little
further, a very little further, and I will promise that you shall
share everything that I know."
"Well, we're bound to take you on your own terms," said the
inspector; "but when it comes to telling us to abandon the case--why
in the name of goodness should we abandon the case?"
"For the simple reason, my dear Mr. Mac, that you have not got the
first idea what it is that you are investigating."
"We are investigating the murder of Mr. John Douglas of Birlstone
Manor."
"Yes, yes, so you are. But don't trouble to trace the mysterious
gentleman upon the bicycle. I assure you that it won't help you."
"Then what do you suggest that we do?"
"I will tell you exactly what to do, if you will do it."
"Well, I'm bound to say I've always found you had reason behind all
your queer ways. I'll do what you advise."
"And you, Mr. White Mason?"
The country detective looked helplessly from one to the other. Holmes
and his methods were new to him. "Well, if it is good enough for the
inspector, it is good enough for me," he said at last.
"Capital!" said Holmes. "Well, then, I should recommend a nice,
cheery country walk for both of you. They tell me that the views from
Birlstone Ridge over the Weald are very remarkable. No doubt lunch
could be got at some suitable hostelry; though my ignorance of the
country prevents me from recommending one. In the evening, tired but
happy--"
"Man, this is getting past a joke!" cried MacDonald, rising angrily
from his chair.
"Well, well, spend the day as you like," said Holmes, patting him
cheerfully upon the shoulder. "Do what you like and go where you
will, but meet me here before dusk without fail--without fail, Mr.
Mac."
"That sounds more like sanity."
"All of it was excellent advice; but I don't insist, so long as you
are here when I need you. But now, before we part, I want you to
write a note to Mr. Barker."
"Well?"
"I'll dictate it, if you like. Ready?
"Dear Sir:
"It has struck me that it is our duty to drain the moat, in the hope
that we may find some--"
"It's impossible," said the inspector. "I've made inquiry."
"Tut, tut! My dear sir, please do what I ask you."
"Well, go on."
"--in the hope that we may find something which may bear upon our
investigation. I have made arrangements, and the workmen will be at
work early to-morrow morning diverting the stream--"
"Impossible!"
"--diverting the stream; so I thought it best to explain matters
beforehand.
"Now sign that, and send it by hand about four o'clock. At that hour
we shall meet again in this room. Until then we may each do what we
like; for I can assure you that this inquiry has come to a definite
pause."
Evening was drawing in when we reassembled. Holmes was very serious
in his manner, myself curious, and the detectives obviously critical
and annoyed.
"Well, gentlemen," said my friend gravely, "I am asking you now to
put everything to the test with me, and you will judge for yourselves
whether the observations I have made justify the conclusions to which
I have come. It is a chill evening, and I do not know how long our
expedition may last; so I beg that you will wear your warmest coats.
It is of the first importance that we should be in our places before
it grows dark; so with your permission we shall get started at once."
We passed along the outer bounds of the Manor House park until we
came to a place where there was a gap in the rails which fenced it.
Through this we slipped, and then in the gathering gloom we followed
Holmes until we had reached a shrubbery which lies nearly opposite to
the main door and the drawbridge. The latter had not been raised.
Holmes crouched down behind the screen of laurels, and we all three
followed his example.
"Well, what are we to do now?" asked MacDonald with some gruffness.
"Possess our souls in patience and make as little noise as possible,"
Holmes answered.
"What are we here for at all? I really think that you might treat us
with more frankness."
Holmes laughed. "Watson insists that I am the dramatist in real
life," said he. "Some touch of the artist wells up within me, and
calls insistently for a well-staged performance. Surely our
profession, Mr. Mac, would be a drab and sordid one if we did not
sometimes set the scene so as to glorify our results. The blunt
accusation, the brutal tap upon the shoulder--what can one make of
such a d閚ouement? But the quick inference, the subtle trap, the
clever forecast of coming events, the triumphant vindication of bold
theories--are these not the pride and the justification of our life's
work? At the present moment you thrill with the glamour of the
situation and the anticipation of the hunt. Where would be that
thrill if I had been as definite as a timetable? I only ask a little
patience, Mr. Mac, and all will be clear to you."
"Well, I hope the pride and justification and the rest of it will
come before we all get our death of cold," said the London detective
with comic resignation.
We all had good reason to join in the aspiration; for our vigil was a
long and bitter one. Slowly the shadows darkened over the long,
sombre face of the old house. A cold, damp reek from the moat chilled
us to the bones and set our teeth chattering. There was a single lamp
over the gateway and a steady globe of light in the fatal study.
Everything else was dark and still.
"How long is this to last?" asked the inspector finally. "And what is
it we are watching for?"
"I have no more notion than you how long it is to last," Holmes
answered with some asperity. "If criminals would always schedule
their movements like railway trains, it would certainly be more
