that the occurrence was immediately after his departure, and not
later than eleven o'clock last night.
"Our next obvious step is to check, so far as we can, the movements
of Mortimer Tregennis after he left the room. In this there is no
difficulty, and they seem to be above suspicion. Knowing my methods
as you do, you were, of course, conscious of the somewhat clumsy
water-pot expedient by which I obtained a clearer impress of his foot
than might otherwise have been possible. The wet, sandy path took it
admirably. Last night was also wet, you will remember, and it was not
difficult--having obtained a sample print--to pick out his track
among others and to follow his movements. He appears to have walked
away swiftly in the direction of the vicarage.
"If, then, Mortimer Tregennis disappeared from the scene, and yet
some outside person affected the card-players, how can we reconstruct
that person, and how was such an impression of horror conveyed? Mrs.
Porter may be eliminated. She is evidently harmless. Is there any
evidence that someone crept up to the garden window and in some
manner produced so terrific an effect that he drove those who saw it
out of their senses? The only suggestion in this direction comes from
Mortimer Tregennis himself, who says that his brother spoke about
some movement in the garden. That is certainly remarkable, as the
night was rainy, cloudy, and dark. Anyone who had the design to alarm
these people would be compelled to place his very face against the
glass before he could be seen. There is a three-foot flower-border
outside this window, but no indication of a footmark. It is difficult
to imagine, then, how an outsider could have made so terrible an
impression upon the company, nor have we found any possible motive
for so strange and elaborate an attempt. You perceive our
difficulties, Watson?"
"They are only too clear," I answered with conviction.
"And yet, with a little more material, we may prove that they are not
insurmountable," said Holmes. "I fancy that among your extensive
archives, Watson, you may find some which were nearly as obscure.
Meanwhile, we shall put the case aside until more accurate data are
available, and devote the rest of our morning to the pursuit of
neolithic man."
I may have commented upon my friend's power of mental detachment, but
never have I wondered at it more than upon that spring morning in
Cornwall when for two hours he discoursed upon celts, arrowheads, and
shards, as lightly as if no sinister mystery were waiting for his
solution. It was not until we had returned in the afternoon to our
cottage that we found a visitor awaiting us, who soon brought our
minds back to the matter in hand. Neither of us needed to be told who
that visitor was. The huge body, the craggy and deeply seamed face
with the fierce eyes and hawk-like nose, the grizzled hair which
nearly brushed our cottage ceiling, the beard--golden at the fringes
and white near the lips, save for the nicotine stain from his
perpetual cigar--all these were as well known in London as in Africa,
and could only be associated with the tremendous personality of Dr.
Leon Sterndale, the great lion-hunter and explorer.
We had heard of his presence in the district and had once or twice
caught sight of his tall figure upon the moorland paths. He made no
advances to us, however, nor would we have dreamed of doing so to
him, as it was well known that it was his love of seclusion which
caused him to spend the greater part of the intervals between his
journeys in a small bungalow buried in the lonely wood of Beauchamp
Arriance. Here, amid his books and his maps, he lived an absolutely
lonely life, attending to his own simple wants and paying little
apparent heed to the affairs of his neighbours. It was a surprise to
me, therefore, to hear him asking Holmes in an eager voice whether he
had made any advance in his reconstruction of this mysterious
episode. "The county police are utterly at fault," said he, "but
perhaps your wider experience has suggested some conceivable
explanation. My only claim to being taken into your confidence is
that during my many residences here I have come to know this family
of Tregennis very well--indeed, upon my Cornish mother's side I could
call them cousins--and their strange fate has naturally been a great
shock to me. I may tell you that I had got as far as Plymouth upon my
way to Africa, but the news reached me this morning, and I came
straight back again to help in the inquiry."
Holmes raised his eyebrows.
"Did you lose your boat through it?"
"I will take the next."
"Dear me! that is friendship indeed."
"I tell you they were relatives."
"Quite so--cousins of your mother. Was your baggage aboard the ship?"
"Some of it, but the main part at the hotel."
"I see. But surely this event could not have found its way into the
Plymouth morning papers."
"No, sir; I had a telegram."
"Might I ask from whom?"
A shadow passed over the gaunt face of the explorer.
"You are very inquisitive, Mr. Holmes."
"It is my business."
With an effort Dr. Sterndale recovered his ruffled composure.
"I have no objection to telling you," he said. "It was Mr. Roundhay,
the vicar, who sent me the telegram which recalled me."
"Thank you," said Holmes. "I may say in answer to your original
question that I have not cleared my mind entirely on the subject of
this case, but that I have every hope of reaching some conclusion. It
would be premature to say more."
"Perhaps you would not mind telling me if your suspicions point in
any particular direction?"
"No, I can hardly answer that."
"Then I have wasted my time and need not prolong my visit." The
famous doctor strode out of our cottage in considerable ill-humour,
and within five minutes Holmes had followed him. I saw him no more
until the evening, when he returned with a slow step and haggard face
which assured me that he had made no great progress with his
investigation. He glanced at a telegram which awaited him and threw
it into the grate.
"From the Plymouth hotel, Watson," he said. "I learned the name of it
from the vicar, and I wired to make certain that Dr. Leon Sterndale's
account was true. It appears that he did indeed spend last night
there, and that he has actually allowed some of his baggage to go on
to Africa, while he returned to be present at this investigation.
What do you make of that, Watson?"
"He is deeply interested."
"Deeply interested--yes. There is a thread here which we had not yet
grasped and which might lead us through the tangle. Cheer up, Watson,
for I am very sure that our material has not yet all come to hand.
When it does we may soon leave our difficulties behind us."
Little did I think how soon the words of Holmes would be realized, or
how strange and sinister would be that new development which opened
up an entirely fresh line of investigation. I was shaving at my
window in the morning when I heard the rattle of hoofs and, looking
up, saw a dog-cart coming at a gallop down the road. It pulled up at
our door, and our friend, the vicar, sprang from it and rushed up our
garden path. Holmes was already dressed, and we hastened down to meet
him.
Our visitor was so excited that he could hardly articulate, but at
last in gasps and bursts his tragic story came out of him.
"We are devil-ridden, Mr. Holmes! My poor parish is devil-ridden!" he
cried. "Satan himself is loose in it! We are given over into his
hands!" He danced about in his agitation, a ludicrous object if it
were not for his ashy face and startled eyes. Finally he shot out his
terrible news.
"Mr. Mortimer Tregennis died during the night, and with exactly the
same symptoms as the rest of his family."
Holmes sprang to his feet, all energy in an instant.
"Can you fit us both into your dog-cart?"
"Yes, I can."
"Then, Watson, we will postpone our breakfast. Mr. Roundhay, we are
entirely at your disposal. Hurry--hurry, before things get
disarranged."
The lodger occupied two rooms at the vicarage, which were in an angle
by themselves, the one above the other. Below was a large
sitting-room; above, his bedroom. They looked out upon a croquet lawn
which came up to the windows. We had arrived before the doctor or the
police, so that everything was absolutely undisturbed. Let me
describe exactly the scene as we saw it upon that misty March
morning. It has left an impression which can never be effaced from my
mind.
The atmosphere of the room was of a horrible and depressing
stuffiness. The servant who had first entered had thrown up the
window, or it would have been even more intolerable. This might
partly be due to the fact that a lamp stood flaring and smoking on
the centre table. Beside it sat the dead man, leaning back in his
chair, his thin beard projecting, his spectacles pushed up on to his
forehead, and his lean dark face turned towards the window and
twisted into the same distortion of terror which had marked the
features of his dead sister. His limbs were convulsed and his fingers
contorted as though he had died in a very paroxysm of fear. He was
fully clothed, though there were signs that his dressing had been
done in a hurry. We had already learned that his bed had been slept
in, and that the tragic end had come to him in the early morning.
One realized the red-hot energy which underlay Holmes's phlegmatic
exterior when one saw the sudden change which came over him from the
moment that he entered the fatal apartment. In an instant he was
tense and alert, his eyes shining, his face set, his limbs quivering
with eager activity. He was out on the lawn, in through the window,
round the room, and up into the bedroom, for all the world like a
dashing foxhound drawing a cover. In the bedroom he made a rapid cast
around and ended by throwing open the window, which appeared to give
him some fresh cause for excitement, for he leaned out of it with
loud ejaculations of interest and delight. Then he rushed down the
stair, out through the open window, threw himself upon his face on
the lawn, sprang up and into the room once more, all with the energy
of the hunter who is at the very heels of his quarry. The lamp, which
was an ordinary standard, he examined with minute care, making
certain measurements upon its bowl. He carefully scrutinized with his
lens the talc shield which covered the top of the chimney and scraped
off some ashes which adhered to its upper surface, putting some of
them into an envelope, which he placed in his pocketbook. Finally,
just as the doctor and the official police put in an appearance, he
beckoned to the vicar and we all three went out upon the lawn.
"I am glad to say that my investigation has not been entirely
barren," he remarked. "I cannot remain to discuss the matter with the
police, but I should be exceedingly obliged, Mr. Roundhay, if you
would give the inspector my compliments and direct his attention to
the bedroom window and to the sitting-room lamp. Each is suggestive,
and together they are almost conclusive. If the police would desire
further information I shall be happy to see any of them at the
cottage. And now, Watson, I think that, perhaps, we shall be better
employed elsewhere."
It may be that the police resented the intrusion of an amateur, or
that they imagined themselves to be upon some hopeful line of
investigation; but it is certain that we heard nothing from them for
the next two days. During this time Holmes spent some of his time
smoking and dreaming in the cottage; but a greater portion in country
walks which he undertook alone, returning after many hours without
remark as to where he had been. One experiment served to show me the
line of his investigation. He had bought a lamp which was the
duplicate of the one which had burned in the room of Mortimer
Tregennis on the morning of the tragedy. This he filled with the same
oil as that used at the vicarage, and he carefully timed the period
which it would take to be exhausted. Another experiment which he made
was of a more unpleasant nature, and one which I am not likely ever
to forget.
"You will remember, Watson," he remarked one afternoon, "that there
is a single common point of resemblance in the varying reports which
have reached us. This concerns the effect of the atmosphere of the
room in each case upon those who had first entered it. You will
recollect that Mortimer Tregennis, in describing the episode of his
last visit to his brother's house, remarked that the doctor on
entering the room fell into a chair? You had forgotten? Well I can
answer for it that it was so. Now, you will remember also that Mrs.
Porter, the housekeeper, told us that she herself fainted upon
entering the room and had afterwards opened the window. In the second
