knife which is used for the most delicate operations known in
surgery. And it was to be used for a delicate operation that night.
You must know, with your wide experience of turf matters, Colonel
Ross, that it is possible to make a slight nick upon the tendons of a
horse's ham, and to do it subcutaneously, so as to leave absolutely
no trace. A horse so treated would develop a slight lameness, which
would be put down to a strain in exercise or a touch of rheumatism,
but never to foul play."
"Villain! Scoundrel!" cried the Colonel.
"We have here the explanation of why John Straker wished to take the
horse out on to the moor. So spirited a creature would have certainly
roused the soundest of sleepers when it felt the prick of the knife.
It was absolutely necessary to do it in the open air."
"I have been blind!" cried the Colonel. "Of course that was why he
needed the candle, and struck the match."
"Undoubtedly. But in examining his belongings I was fortunate enough
to discover not only the method of the crime, but even its motives.
As a man of the world, Colonel, you know that men do not carry other
people's bills about in their pockets. We have most of us quite
enough to do to settle our own. I at once concluded that Straker was
leading a double life, and keeping a second establishment. The nature
of the bill showed that there was a lady in the case, and one who had
expensive tastes. Liberal as you are with your servants, one can
hardly expect that they can buy twenty-guinea walking dresses for
their ladies. I questioned Mrs. Straker as to the dress without her
knowing it, and having satisfied myself that it had never reached
her, I made a note of the milliner's address, and felt that by
calling there with Straker's photograph I could easily dispose of the
mythical Derbyshire.
"From that time on all was plain. Straker had led out the horse to a
hollow where his light would be invisible. Simpson in his flight had
dropped his cravat, and Straker had picked it up--with some idea,
perhaps, that he might use it in securing the horse's leg. Once in
the hollow, he had got behind the horse and had struck a light; but
the creature frightened at the sudden glare, and with the strange
instinct of animals feeling that some mischief was intended, had
lashed out, and the steel shoe had struck Straker full on the
forehead. He had already, in spite of the rain, taken off his
overcoat in order to do his delicate task, and so, as he fell, his
knife gashed his thigh. Do I make it clear?"
"Wonderful!" cried the Colonel. "Wonderful! You might have been
there!"
"My final shot was, I confess a very long one. It struck me that so
astute a man as Straker would not undertake this delicate
tendon-nicking without a little practice. What could he practice on?
My eyes fell upon the sheep, and I asked a question which, rather to
my surprise, showed that my surmise was correct.
"When I returned to London I called upon the milliner, who had
recognized Straker as an excellent customer of the name of
Derbyshire, who had a very dashing wife, with a strong partiality for
expensive dresses. I have no doubt that this woman had plunged him
over head and ears in debt, and so led him into this miserable plot."
"You have explained all but one thing," cried the Colonel. "Where was
the horse?"
"Ah, it bolted, and was cared for by one of your neighbors. We must
have an amnesty in that direction, I think. This is Clapham Junction,
if I am not mistaken, and we shall be in Victoria in less than ten
minutes. If you care to smoke a cigar in our rooms, Colonel, I shall
be happy to give you any other details which might interest you."
THE YELLOW FACE
[In publishing these short sketches based upon the numerous cases in
which my companion's singular gifts have made us the listeners to,
and eventually the actors in, some strange drama, it is only natural
that I should dwell rather upon his successes than upon his failures.
And this not so much for the sake of his reputations--for, indeed, it
was when he was at his wits' end that his energy and his versatility
were most admirable--but because where he failed it happened too
often that no one else succeeded, and that the tale was left forever
without a conclusion. Now and again, however, it chanced that even
when he erred, the truth was still discovered. I have noted of some
half-dozen cases of the kind the Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual and
that which I am about to recount are the two which present the
strongest features of interest.]
Sherlock Holmes was a man who seldom took exercise for exercise's
sake. Few men were capable of greater muscular effort, and he was
undoubtedly one of the finest boxers of his weight that I have ever
seen; but he looked upon aimless bodily exertion as a waste of
energy, and he seldom bestirred himself save when there was some
professional object to be served. Then he was absolutely untiring and
indefatigable. That he should have kept himself in training under
such circumstances is remarkable, but his diet was usually of the
sparest, and his habits were simple to the verge of austerity. Save
for the occasional use of cocaine, he had no vices, and he only
turned to the drug as a protest against the monotony of existence
when cases were scanty and the papers uninteresting.
One day in early spring he had so far relaxed as to go for a walk
with me in the Park, where the first faint shoots of green were
breaking out upon the elms, and the sticky spear-heads of the
chestnuts were just beginning to burst into their five-fold leaves.
For two hours we rambled about together, in silence for the most
part, as befits two men who know each other intimately. It was nearly
five before we were back in Baker Street once more.
"Beg pardon, sir," said our page-boy, as he opened the door. "There's
been a gentleman here asking for you, sir."
Holmes glanced reproachfully at me. "So much for afternoon walks!"
said he. "Has this gentleman gone, then?"
"Yes, sir."
"Didn't you ask him in?"
"Yes, sir; he came in."
"How long did he wait?"
"Half an hour, sir. He was a very restless gentleman, sir, a-walkin'
and a-stampin' all the time he was here. I was waitin' outside the
door, sir, and I could hear him. At last he outs into the passage,
and he cries, 'Is that man never goin' to come?' Those were his very
words, sir. 'You'll only need to wait a little longer,' says I. 'Then
I'll wait in the open air, for I feel half choked,' says he. 'I'll be
back before long.' And with that he ups and he outs, and all I could
say wouldn't hold him back."
"Well, well, you did your best," said Holmes, as we walked into our
room. "It's very annoying, though, Watson. I was badly in need of a
case, and this looks, from the man's impatience, as if it were of
importance. Hullo! That's not your pipe on the table. He must have
left his behind him. A nice old brier with a good long stem of what
the tobacconists call amber. I wonder how many real amber mouthpieces
there are in London? Some people think that a fly in it is a sign.
Well, he must have been disturbed in his mind to leave a pipe behind
him which he evidently values highly."
"How do you know that he values it highly?" I asked.
"Well, I should put the original cost of the pipe at seven and
sixpence. Now it has, you see, been twice mended, once in the wooden
stem and once in the amber. Each of these mends, done, as you
observe, with silver bands, must have cost more than the pipe did
originally. The man must value the pipe highly when he prefers to
patch it up rather than buy a new one with the same money."
"Anything else?" I asked, for Holmes was turning the pipe about in
his hand, and staring at it in his peculiar pensive way.
He held it up and tapped on it with his long, thin fore-finger, as a
professor might who was lecturing on a bone.
"Pipes are occasionally of extraordinary interest," said he. "Nothing
has more individuality, save perhaps watches and bootlaces. The
indications here, however, are neither very marked nor very
important. The owner is obviously a muscular man, left-handed, with
an excellent set of teeth, careless in his habits, and with no need
to practise economy."
My friend threw out the information in a very offhand way, but I saw
that he cocked his eye at me to see if I had followed his reasoning.
"You think a man must be well-to-do if he smokes a seven-shilling
pipe," said I.
"This is Grosvenor mixture at eightpence an ounce," Holmes answered,
knocking a little out on his palm. "As he might get an excellent
smoke for half the price, he has no need to practise economy."
"And the other points?"
"He has been in the habit of lighting his pipe at lamps and gas-jets.
You can see that it is quite charred all down one side. Of course a
match could not have done that. Why should a man hold a match to the
side of his pipe? But you cannot light it at a lamp without getting
the bowl charred. And it is all on the right side of the pipe. From
that I gather that he is a left-handed man. You hold your own pipe to
the lamp, and see how naturally you, being right-handed, hold the
left side to the flame. You might do it once the other way, but not
as a constancy. This has always been held so. Then he has bitten
through his amber. It takes a muscular, energetic fellow, and one
with a good set of teeth, to do that. But if I am not mistaken I hear
him upon the stair, so we shall have something more interesting than
his pipe to study."
An instant later our door opened, and a tall young man entered the
room. He was well but quietly dressed in a dark-gray suit, and
carried a brown wide-awake in his hand. I should have put him at
about thirty, though he was really some years older.
"I beg your pardon," said he, with some embarrassment; "I suppose I
should have knocked. Yes, of course I should have knocked. The fact
is that I am a little upset, and you must put it all down to that."
He passed his hand over his forehead like a man who is half dazed,
and then fell rather than sat down upon a chair.
"I can see that you have not slept for a night or two," said Holmes,
in his easy, genial way. "That tries a man's nerves more than work,
and more even than pleasure. May I ask how I can help you?"
"I wanted your advice, sir. I don't know what to do and my whole life
seems to have gone to pieces."
"You wish to employ me as a consulting detective?"
"Not that only. I want your opinion as a judicious man--as a man of
the world. I want to know what I ought to do next. I hope to God
you'll be able to tell me."
He spoke in little, sharp, jerky outbursts, and it seemed to me that
to speak at all was very painful to him, and that his will all
through was overriding his inclinations.
"It's a very delicate thing," said he. "One does not like to speak of
one's domestic affairs to strangers. It seems dreadful to discuss the
conduct of one's wife with two men whom I have never seen before.
It's horrible to have to do it. But I've got to the end of my tether,
and I must have advice."
"My dear Mr. Grant Munro--" began Holmes.
Our visitor sprang from his char. "What!" he cried, "you know my
mane?"
"If you wish to preserve your incognito," said Holmes, smiling, "I
would suggest that you cease to write your name upon the lining of
your hat, or else that you turn the crown towards the person whom you
are addressing. I was about to say that my friend and I have listened
to a good many strange secrets in this room, and that we have had the
good fortune to bring peace to many troubled souls. I trust that we
may do as much for you. Might I beg you, as time may prove to be of
importance, to furnish me with the facts of your case without further
delay?"
Our visitor again passed his hand over his forehead, as if he found
it bitterly hard. From every gesture and expression I could see that
he was a reserved, self-contained man, with a dash of pride in his
nature, more likely to hide his wounds than to expose them. Then
suddenly, with a fierce gesture of his closed hand, like one who
throws reserve to the winds, he began.
"The facts are these, Mr. Holmes," said he. "I am a married man, and
have been so for three years. During that time my wife and I have
loved each other as fondly and lived as happily as any two that ever
were joined. We have not had a difference, not one, in thought or
word or deed. And now, since last Monday, there has suddenly sprung
up a barrier between us, and I find that there is something in her
