village in Berkshire, when this horror occurred. They were on their
way to Wimbledon, travelling by road, and they were simply camping
and not exhibiting, as the place is so small a one that it would not
have paid them to open.
"They had among their exhibits a very fine North African lion. Sahara
King was its name, and it was the habit, both of Ronder and his wife,
to give exhibitions inside its cage. Here, you see, is a photograph
of the performance by which you will perceive that Ronder was a huge
porcine person and that his wife was a very magnificent woman. It was
deposed at the inquest that there had been some signs that the lion
was dangerous, but, as usual, familiarity begat contempt, and no
notice was taken of the fact.
"It was usual for either Ronder or his wife to feed the lion at
night. Sometimes one went, sometimes both, but they never allowed
anyone else to do it, for they believed that so long as they were the
food-carriers he would regard them as benefactors and would never
molest them. On this particular night, seven years ago, they both
went, and a very terrible happening followed, the details of which
have never been made clear.
"It seems that the whole camp was roused near midnight by the roars
of the animal and the screams of the woman. The different grooms and
employees rushed from their tents, carrying lanterns, and by their
light an awful sight was revealed. Ronder lay, with the back of his
head crushed in and deep claw-marks across his scalp, some ten yards
from the cage, which was open. Close to the door of the cage lay Mrs.
Ronder upon her back, with the creature squatting and snarling above
her. It had torn her face in such a fashion that it was never thought
that she could live. Several of the circus men, headed by Leonardo,
the strong man, and Griggs, the clown, drove the creature off with
poles, upon which it sprang back into the cage and was at once locked
in. How it had got loose was a mystery. It was conjectured that the
pair intended to enter the cage, but that when the door was loosed
the creature bounded out upon them. There was no other point of
interest in the evidence save that the woman in a delirium of agony
kept screaming, 'Coward! Coward!' as she was carried back to the van
in which they lived. It was six months before she was fit to give
evidence, but the inquest was duly held, with the obvious verdict of
death from misadventure."
"What alternative could be conceived?" said I.
"You may well say so. And yet there were one or two points which
worried young Edmunds, of the Berkshire Constabulary. A smart lad
that! He was sent later to Allahabad. That was how I came into the
matter, for he dropped in and smoked a pipe or two over it."
"A thin, yellow-haired man?"
"Exactly. I was sure you would pick up the trail presently."
"But what worried him?"
"Well, we were both worried. It was so deucedly difficult to
reconstruct the affair. Look at it from the lion's point of view. He
is liberated. What does he do? He takes half a dozen bounds forward,
which brings him to Ronder. Ronder turns to fly--the claw-marks were
on the back of his head--but the lion strikes him down. Then, instead
of bounding on and escaping, he returns to the woman, who was close
to the cage, and he knocks her over and chews her face up. Then,
again, those cries of hers would seem to imply that her husband had
in some way failed her. What could the poor devil have done to help
her? You see the difficulty?"
"Quite."
"And then there was another thing. It comes back to me now as I think
it over. There was some evidence that just at the time the lion
roared and the woman screamed, a man began shouting in terror."
"This man Ronder, no doubt."
"Well, if his skull was smashed in you would hardly expect to hear
from him again. There were at least two witnesses who spoke of the
cries of a man being mingled with those of a woman."
"I should think the whole camp was crying out by then. As to the
other points, I think I could suggest a solution."
"I should be glad to consider it."
"The two were together, ten yards from the cage, when the lion got
loose. The man turned and was struck down. The woman conceived the
idea of getting into the cage and shutting the door. It was her only
refuge. She made for it, and just as she reached it the beast bounded
after her and knocked her over. She was angry with her husband for
having encouraged the beast's rage by turning. If they had faced it
they might have cowed it. Hence her cries of 'Coward!'"
"Brilliant, Watson! Only one flaw in your diamond."
"What is the flaw, Holmes?"
"If they were both ten paces from the cage, how came the beast to get
loose?"
"Is it possible that they had some enemy who loosed it?"
"And why should it attack them savagely when it was in the habit of
playing with them, and doing tricks with them inside the cage?"
"Possibly the same enemy had done something to enrage it."
Holmes looked thoughtful and remained in silence for some moments.
"Well, Watson, there is this to be said for your theory. Ronder was a
man of many enemies. Edmunds told me that in his cups he was
horrible. A huge bully of a man, he cursed and slashed at everyone
who came in his way. I expect those cries about a monster, of which
our visitor has spoken, were nocturnal reminiscences of the dear
departed. However, our speculations are futile until we have all the
facts. There is a cold partridge on the sideboard, Watson, and a
bottle of Montrachet. Let us renew our energies before we make a
fresh call upon them."
When our hansom deposited us at the house of Mrs. Merrilow, we found
that plump lady blocking up the open door of her humble but retired
abode. It was very clear that her chief preoccupation was lest she
should lose a valuable lodger, and she implored us, before showing us
up, to say and do nothing which could lead to so undesirable an end.
Then, having reassured her, we followed her up the straight, badly
carpeted staircase and were shown into the room of the mysterious
lodger.
It was a close, musty, ill-ventilated place, as might be expected,
since its inmate seldom left it. From keeping beasts in a cage, the
woman seemed, by some retribution of fate, to have become herself a
beast in a cage. She sat now in a broken armchair in the shadowy
corner of the room. Long years of inaction had coarsened the lines of
her figure, but at some period it must have been beautiful, and was
still full and voluptuous. A thick dark veil covered her face, but it
was cut off close at her upper lip and disclosed a perfectly shaped
mouth and a delicately rounded chin. I could well conceive that she
had indeed been a very remarkable woman. Her voice, too, was well
modulated and pleasing.
"My name is not unfamiliar to you, Mr. Holmes," said she. "I thought
that it would bring you."
"That is so, madam, though I do not know how you are aware that I was
interested in your case."
"I learned it when I had recovered my health and was examined by Mr.
Edmunds, the county detective. I fear I lied to him. Perhaps it would
have been wiser had I told the truth."
"It is usually wiser to tell the truth. But why did you lie to him?"
"Because the fate of someone else depended upon it. I know that he
was a very worthless being, and yet I would not have his destruction
upon my conscience. We had been so close--so close!"
"But has this impediment been removed?"
"Yes, sir. The person that I allude to is dead."
"Then why should you not now tell the police anything you know?"
"Because there is another person to be considered. That other person
is myself. I could not stand the scandal and publicity which would
come from a police examination. I have not long to live, but I wish
to die undisturbed. And yet I wanted to find one man of judgment to
whom I could tell my terrible story, so that when I am gone all might
be understood."
"You compliment me, madam. At the same time, I am a responsible
person. I do not promise you that when you have spoken I may not
myself think it my duty to refer the case to the police."
"I think not, Mr. Holmes. I know your character and methods too well,
for I have followed your work for some years. Reading is the only
pleasure which fate has left me, and I miss little which passes in
the world. But in any case, I will take my chance of the use which
you may make of my tragedy. It will ease my mind to tell it."
"My friend and I would be glad to hear it."
The woman rose and took from a drawer the photograph of a man. He was
clearly a professional acrobat, a man of magnificent physique, taken
with his huge arms folded across his swollen chest and a smile
breaking from under his heavy moustache--the self-satisfied smile of
the man of many conquests.
"That is Leonardo," she said.
"Leonardo, the strong man, who gave evidence?"
"The same. And this--this is my husband."
It was a dreadful face--a human pig, or rather a human wild boar, for
it was formidable in its bestiality. One could imagine that vile
mouth champing and foaming in its rage, and one could conceive those
small, vicious eyes darting pure malignancy as they looked forth upon
the world. Ruffian, bully, beast--it was all written on that
heavy-jowled face.
"Those two pictures will help you, gentlemen, to understand the
story. I was a poor circus girl brought up on the sawdust, and doing
springs through the hoop before I was ten. When I became a woman this
man loved me, if such lust as his can be called love, and in an evil
moment I became his wife. From that day I was in hell, and he the
devil who tormented me. There was no one in the show who did not know
of his treatment. He deserted me for others. He tied me down and
lashed me with his riding-whip when I complained. They all pitied me
and they all loathed him, but what could they do? They feared him,
one and all. For he was terrible at all times, and murderous when he
was drunk. Again and again he was had up for assault, and for cruelty
to the beasts, but he had plenty of money and the fines were nothing
to him. The best men all left us, and the show began to go downhill.
It was only Leonardo and I who kept it up--with little Jimmy Griggs,
the clown. Poor devil, he had not much to be funny about, but he did
what he could to hold things together.
"Then Leonardo came more and more into my life. You see what he was
like. I know now the poor spirit that was hidden in that splendid
body, but compared to my husband he seemed like the angel Gabriel. He
pitied me and helped me, till at last our intimacy turned to
love--deep, deep, passionate love, such love as I had dreamed of but
never hoped to feel. My husband suspected it, but I think that he was
a coward as well as a bully, and that Leonardo was the one man that
he was afraid of. He took revenge in his own way by torturing me more
than ever. One night my cries brought Leonardo to the door of our
van. We were near tragedy that night, and soon my lover and I
understood that it could not be avoided. My husband was not fit to
live. We planned that he should die.
"Leonardo had a clever, scheming brain. It was he who planned it. I
do not say that to blame him, for I was ready to go with him every
inch of the way. But I should never have had the wit to think of such
a plan. We made a club--Leonardo made it--and in the leaden head he
fastened five long steel nails, the points outward, with just such a
spread as the lion's paw. This was to give my husband his death-blow,
and yet to leave the evidence that it was the lion which we would
loose who had done the deed.
"It was a pitch-dark night when my husband and I went down, as was
our custom, to feed the beast. We carried with us the raw meat in a
zinc pail. Leonardo was waiting at the corner of the big van which we
should have to pass before we reached the cage. He was too slow, and
we walked past him before he could strike, but he followed us on
tiptoe and I heard the crash as the club smashed my husband's skull.
My heart leaped with joy at the sound. I sprang forward, and I undid
the catch which held the door of the great lion's cage.
"And then the terrible thing happened. You may have heard how quick
these creatures are to scent human blood, and how it excites them.
Some strange instinct had told the creature in one instant that a
human being had been slain. As I slipped the bars it bounded out and
was on me in an instant. Leonardo could have saved me. If he had
rushed forward and struck the beast with his club he might have cowed
it. But the man lost his nerve. I heard him shout in his terror, and
then I saw him turn and fly. At the same instant the teeth of the
lion met in my face. Its hot, filthy breath had already poisoned me
