murderous use of it as any other man. The card is some
hocus-pocus,--a blind, as like as not. The only question is, how did
he depart? Ah, of course, here is a hole in the roof." With great
activity, considering his bulk, he sprang up the steps and squeezed
through into the garret, and immediately afterwards we heard his
exulting voice proclaiming that he had found the trap-door.
"He can find something," remarked Holmes, shrugging his shoulders.
"He has occasional glimmerings of reason. Il n'y a pas des sots si
incommodes que ceux qui ont de l'esprit!"
"You see!" said Athelney Jones, reappearing down the steps again.
"Facts are better than mere theories, after all. My view of the case
is confirmed. There is a trap-door communicating with the roof, and
it is partly open."
"It was I who opened it."
"Oh, indeed! You did notice it, then?" He seemed a little crestfallen
at the discovery. "Well, whoever noticed it, it shows how our
gentleman got away. Inspector!"
"Yes, sir," from the passage.
"Ask Mr. Sholto to step this way.--Mr. Sholto, it is my duty to
inform you that anything which you may say will be used against you.
I arrest you in the queen's name as being concerned in the death of
your brother."
"There, now! Didn't I tell you!" cried the poor little man, throwing
out his hands, and looking from one to the other of us.
"Don't trouble yourself about it, Mr. Sholto," said Holmes. "I think
that I can engage to clear you of the charge."
"Don't promise too much, Mr. Theorist,--don't promise too much!"
snapped the detective. "You may find it a harder matter than you
think."
"Not only will I clear him, Mr. Jones, but I will make you a free
present of the name and description of one of the two people who were
in this room last night. His name, I have every reason to believe, is
Jonathan Small. He is a poorly-educated man, small, active, with his
right leg off, and wearing a wooden stump which is worn away upon the
inner side. His left boot has a coarse, square-toed sole, with an
iron band round the heel. He is a middle-aged man, much sunburned,
and has been a convict. These few indications may be of some
assistance to you, coupled with the fact that there is a good deal of
skin missing from the palm of his hand. The other man--"
"Ah! the other man--?" asked Athelney Jones, in a sneering voice, but
impressed none the less, as I could easily see, by the precision of
the other's manner.
"Is a rather curious person," said Sherlock Holmes, turning upon his
heel. "I hope before very long to be able to introduce you to the
pair of them. A word with you, Watson."
He led me out to the head of the stair. "This unexpected occurrence,"
he said, "has caused us rather to lose sight of the original purpose
of our journey."
"I have just been thinking so," I answered. "It is not right that
Miss Morstan should remain in this stricken house."
"No. You must escort her home. She lives with Mrs. Cecil Forrester,
in Lower Camberwell: so it is not very far. I will wait for you here
if you will drive out again. Or perhaps you are too tired?"
"By no means. I don't think I could rest until I know more of this
fantastic business. I have seen something of the rough side of life,
but I give you my word that this quick succession of strange
surprises to-night has shaken my nerve completely. I should like,
however, to see the matter through with you, now that I have got so
far."
"Your presence will be of great service to me," he answered. "We
shall work the case out independently, and leave this fellow Jones to
exult over any mare's-nest which he may choose to construct. When you
have dropped Miss Morstan I wish you to go on to No. 3 Pinchin Lane,
down near the water's edge at Lambeth. The third house on the
right-hand side is a bird-stuffer's: Sherman is the name. You will
see a weasel holding a young rabbit in the window. Knock old Sherman
up, and tell him, with my compliments, that I want Toby at once. You
will bring Toby back in the cab with you."
"A dog, I suppose."
"Yes,--a queer mongrel, with a most amazing power of scent. I would
rather have Toby's help than that of the whole detective force of
London."
"I shall bring him, then," said I. "It is one now. I ought to be back
before three, if I can get a fresh horse."
"And I," said Holmes, "shall see what I can learn from Mrs.
Bernstone, and from the Indian servant, who, Mr. Thaddeus tell me,
sleeps in the next garret. Then I shall study the great Jones's
methods and listen to his not too delicate sarcasms. 'Wir sind
gewohnt, da?die Menschen verh鰄nen was sie nicht verstehen.' Goethe
is always pithy."
CHAPTER VII
The Episode of the Barrel
The police had brought a cab with them, and in this I escorted Miss
Morstan back to her home. After the angelic fashion of women, she had
borne trouble with a calm face as long as there was some one weaker
than herself to support, and I had found her bright and placid by the
side of the frightened housekeeper. In the cab, however, she first
turned faint, and then burst into a passion of weeping,--so sorely
had she been tried by the adventures of the night. She has told me
since that she thought me cold and distant upon that journey. She
little guessed the struggle within my breast, or the effort of
self-restraint which held me back. My sympathies and my love went out
to her, even as my hand had in the garden. I felt that years of the
conventionalities of life could not teach me to know her sweet, brave
nature as had this one day of strange experiences. Yet there were two
thoughts which sealed the words of affection upon my lips. She was
weak and helpless, shaken in mind and nerve. It was to take her at a
disadvantage to obtrude love upon her at such a time. Worse still,
she was rich. If Holmes's researches were successful, she would be an
heiress. Was it fair, was it honorable, that a half-pay surgeon
should take such advantage of an intimacy which chance had brought
about? Might she not look upon me as a mere vulgar fortune-seeker? I
could not bear to risk that such a thought should cross her mind.
This Agra treasure intervened like an impassable barrier between us.
It was nearly two o'clock when we reached Mrs. Cecil Forrester's. The
servants had retired hours ago, but Mrs. Forrester had been so
interested by the strange message which Miss Morstan had received
that she had sat up in the hope of her return. She opened the door
herself, a middle-aged, graceful woman, and it gave me joy to see how
tenderly her arm stole round the other's waist and how motherly was
the voice in which she greeted her. She was clearly no mere paid
dependant, but an honored friend. I was introduced, and Mrs.
Forrester earnestly begged me to step in and tell her our adventures.
I explained, however, the importance of my errand, and promised
faithfully to call and report any progress which we might make with
the case. As we drove away I stole a glance back, and I still seem to
see that little group on the step, the two graceful, clinging
figures, the half-opened door, the hall light shining through stained
glass, the barometer, and the bright stair-rods. It was soothing to
catch even that passing glimpse of a tranquil English home in the
midst of the wild, dark business which had absorbed us.
And the more I thought of what had happened, the wilder and darker it
grew. I reviewed the whole extraordinary sequence of events as I
rattled on through the silent gas-lit streets. There was the original
problem: that at least was pretty clear now. The death of Captain
Morstan, the sending of the pearls, the advertisement, the
letter,--we had had light upon all those events. They had only led
us, however, to a deeper and far more tragic mystery. The Indian
treasure, the curious plan found among Morstan's baggage, the strange
scene at Major Sholto's death, the rediscovery of the treasure
immediately followed by the murder of the discoverer, the very
singular accompaniments to the crime, the footsteps, the remarkable
weapons, the words upon the card, corresponding with those upon
Captain Morstan's chart,--here was indeed a labyrinth in which a man
less singularly endowed than my fellow-lodger might well despair of
ever finding the clue.
Pinchin Lane was a row of shabby two-storied brick houses in the
lower quarter of Lambeth. I had to knock for some time at No. 3
before I could make my impression. At last, however, there was the
glint of a candle behind the blind, and a face looked out at the
upper window.
"Go on, you drunken vagabone," said the face. "If you kick up any
more row I'll open the kennels and let out forty-three dogs upon
you."
"If you'll let one out it's just what I have come for," said I.
"Go on!" yelled the voice. "So help me gracious, I have a wiper in
the bag, an' I'll drop it on your 'ead if you don't hook it."
"But I want a dog," I cried.
"I won't be argued with!" shouted Mr. Sherman. "Now stand clear, for
when I say 'three,' down goes the wiper."
"Mr. Sherlock Holmes--" I began, but the words had a most magical
effect, for the window instantly slammed down, and within a minute
the door was unbarred and open. Mr. Sherman was a lanky, lean old
man, with stooping shoulders, a stringy neck, and blue-tinted
glasses.
"A friend of Mr. Sherlock is always welcome," said he. "Step in,
sir. Keep clear of the badger; for he bites. Ah, naughty, naughty,
would you take a nip at the gentleman?" This to a stoat which thrust
its wicked head and red eyes between the bars of its cage. "Don't
mind that, sir: it's only a slow-worm. It hain't got no fangs, so I
gives it the run o' the room, for it keeps the bettles down. You must
not mind my bein' just a little short wi' you at first, for I'm guyed
at by the children, and there's many a one just comes down this lane
to knock me up. What was it that Mr. Sherlock Holmes wanted, sir?"
"He wanted a dog of yours."
"Ah! that would be Toby."
"Yes, Toby was the name."
"Toby lives at No. 7 on the left here." He moved slowly forward with
his candle among the queer animal family which he had gathered round
him. In the uncertain, shadowy light I could see dimly that there
were glancing, glimmering eyes peeping down at us from every cranny
and corner. Even the rafters above our heads were lined by solemn
fowls, who lazily shifted their weight from one leg to the other as
our voices disturbed their slumbers.
Toby proved to an ugly, long-haired, lop-eared creature, half spaniel
and half lurcher, brown-and-white in color, with a very clumsy
waddling gait. It accepted after some hesitation a lump of sugar
which the old naturalist handed to me, and, having thus sealed an
alliance, it followed me to the cab, and made no difficulties about
accompanying me. It had just struck three on the Palace clock when I
found myself back once more at Pondicherry Lodge. The
ex-prize-fighter McMurdo had, I found, been arrested as an accessory,
and both he and Mr. Sholto had been marched off to the station. Two
constables guarded the narrow gate, but they allowed me to pass with
the dog on my mentioning the detective's name.
Holmes was standing on the door-step, with his hands in his pockets,
smoking his pipe.
"Ah, you have him there!" said he. "Good dog, then! Athelney Jones
has gone. We have had an immense display of energy since you left. He
has arrested not only friend Thaddeus, but the gatekeeper, the
housekeeper, and the Indian servant. We have the place to ourselves,
but for a sergeant up-stairs. Leave the dog here, and come up."
We tied Toby to the hall table, and reascended the stairs. The room
was as he had left it, save that a sheet had been draped over the
central figure. A weary-looking police-sergeant reclined in the
corner.
"Lend me your bull's-eye, sergeant," said my companion. "Now tie this
bit of card round my neck, so as to hang it in front of me. Thank
you. Now I must kick off my boots and stockings.--Just you carry them
down with you, Watson. I am going to do a little climbing. And dip my
handkerchief into the creasote. That will do. Now come up into the
garret with me for a moment."
We clambered up through the hole. Holmes turned his light once more
upon the footsteps in the dust.
"I wish you particularly to notice these footmarks," he said. "Do you
observe anything noteworthy about them?"
"They belong," I said, "to a child or a small woman."
