第 14 页

was lying among the moss, and this also he carefully examined

and retained. Then he followed a pathway through the wood

until he came to the highroad, where all traces were lost.

"It has been a case of considerable interest," he remarked,

returning to his natural manner. "I fancy that this gray house on

the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a

word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done

that, we may drive back to our lunchebn. You may walk to the

cab, and I shall be with you presently."

It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove

back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which

he had picked up in the wood.

"This may interest you, Lestrade," he remarked, holding it

out. "The murder was done with it."

"I see no marks."

"There are none."

"How do you know, then?"

"The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few

days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It

corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other

weapon."

"And the murderer?''

"Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears

thick-soled shooting-boots and a gray cloak, smokes Indian ci-

gars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his

pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be

enough to aid us in our search."

Lestrade laughed. "I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," he

said. "Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a

hard-headed British jury."

"Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly. "You work your

own method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this after-

noon, and shall probably return to London by the evening train."

"And leave your case unfinished?"

"No, finished."

"But the mystery?"

"It is solved.'

"Who was the criminal, then?"

"The gentleman I describe."

"But who is he?''

"Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a

populous neighbourhood."

Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am a practical man," he

said, "and I really cannot undertake to go about the country

looking for a left-handed gentleman with a game-leg. I should

become the laughing-stock of Scotland Yard."

"All right," said Holmes quietly. "I have given you the

chance. Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a

line before I leave."

Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel,

where we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and

buried in thought with a pained expression upon his face, as one

who finds himself in a perplexing position.

"Look here, Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared

"just sit down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little.

don't know quite what to do, and I should value your advice.

Light a cigar and let me expound."

"Pray do so."

"Well, now, in considering this case there are two points

about young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both in-

stantly, although they impressed me in his favour and you against

him. One was the fact that his father should, according to his

account, cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his

singular dying reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you

understand, but that was all that caught the son's ear. Now from

this double point our research must commence, and we will

begin it by presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true."

"What of this 'Cooee!' then?"

"Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son.

The son, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance

that he was within earshot. The 'Cooee!' was meant to attract the

attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with.

But 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used

between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the

person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool

was someone who had been in Australia."

"What of the rat, then?"

Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and

flattened it out on the table. "This is a map of the Colony of

Victoria," he said. "I wired to Bristol for it last night." He put

his hand over part of the map. "What do you read?"

"ARAT," I read.

"And now?" He raised his hand.

"BALLARAT. "

"Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which

his son only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter

the name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat."

"It is wonderful!" I exclaimed.

"It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field

down considerably. The possession of a gray garment was a third

point which, granting the son's statement to be correct, was a

certainty. We have come now out of mere vagueness to the

definite conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a gray

cloak."

"Certainly. "

"And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can

only be approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers

could hardly wander."

"Quite so."

"Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of

the ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that

imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal."

"But how did you gain them?"

"You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of

trifles."

"His height I know that you might roughly judge from the

length of his stride. His boots, too, might be told from their

traces."

"Yes, they were peculiar boots."

"But his lameness?"

"The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than

his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped -- he

was lame."

"But his left-handedness."

"You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as

recorded by the surgeon at-the inquest. The blow was struck

from immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now,

how can that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had

stood behind that tree during the interview between the father

and son. He had even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar,

which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to

pronounce as an Indian cigar. I have, as you know, devoted

some attention to this, and written a little monograph on the

ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette

tobacco. Having found the ash, I then looked round and discov-

ered the stump among the moss where he had tossed it. It was an

Indian cigar, of the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam."

"And the cigar-holder?"

"I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore

he used a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the

cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife."

"Holmes," I said, "you have drawn a net round this man

from which he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent

human life as truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging

him. I see the direction in which all this points. The culprit

is --"

"Mr. John Turner," cried the hotel waiter, opening the door

of our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor.

The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His

slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of

decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and

his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed of unusual

strength of body and of character. His tangled beard, grizzled

hair, and outstanding, drooping eyebrows combined to give an

air of dignity and power to his appearance, but his face was of an

ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were

tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a glance that he

was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease.

"Pray sit down on the sofa," said Holmes gently. "You had

my note?"

"Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you

wished to see me here to avoid scandal."

"I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall."

"And why did you wish to see me?" He looked across at my

companion with despair in his weary eyes, as though his ques-

tion was already answered.

"Yes," said Holmes, answering the look rather than the

words. "It is so. I know all about McCarthy."

The old man sank his face in his hands. "God help me!" he

cried. "But I would not have let the young man come to harm. I

give you my word that I would have spoken out if it went against

him at the Assizes."

"I am glad to hear you say so," said Holmes gravely.

"I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It

would break her heart -- it will break her heart when she hears

that I am arrested."

"It may not come to that," said Holmes.

"What?"

"I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter

who required my presence here, and I am acting in her interests.

Young McCarthy must be got off, however."

"I am a dying man," said old Turner. "I have had diabetes

for years. My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a

month. Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a jail."

Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand

and a bundle of paper before him. "lust tell us the truth," he

said. "I shall jot down the facts. You will sign it, and Watson

here can witness it. Then I could produce your confession at the

last extremity to save young McCarthy. I promise you that I shall

not use it unless it is absolutely needed."

"It's as well," said the old man; "it's a question whether I

shall live to the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I should

wish to spare Alice the shock. And now I will make the thing

clear to you; it has been a long time in the acting, but will not

take me long to tell.

"You didn't know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil

incarnate. I tell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of

such a man as he. His grip has been upon me these twenty years,

and he has blasted my life. I'll tell you first how I came to be in

his power.

"It was in the early '60's at the diggings. I was a young chap

then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at any-

thing; I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck

with my claim, took to the bush, and in a word became what

you would call over here a highway robber. There were six of

us, and we had a wild, free life of it, sticking up a station from

time to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings.

Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party

is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang.

"One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Mel-

bourne, and we lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six

troopers and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied

four of their saddles at the first volley. Three of our boys were

killed, however, before we got the swag. I put my pistol to the

head of the wagon-driver, who was this very man McCarthy. I

wish to the Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him,

though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though

to remember every feature. We got away with the gold, became

wealthy men, and made our way over to England without being

suspected. There I parted from my old pals and determined to

settle down to a quiet and respectable life. I bought this estate,

which chanced to be in the market, and I set myself to do a little

good with my money, to make up for the way in which I had

earned it. I married, too, and though my wife died young she left

me my dear little Alice. Even when she was just a baby her wee

hand seemed to lead me down the right path as nothing else had

ever done. In a word, I turned over a new leaf and did my best to

make up for the past. All was going well when McCarthy laid

hls grip upon me.

"I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in

Regent Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his foot.

"'Here we are, Jack,' says he, touching me on the arm;

'we'll be as good as a family to you. There's two of us, me and

my son, and you can have the keeping of us. If you don't -- it's a

fine, law-abiding country is England, and there's always a po-

liceman within hail.'

"Well, down they came to the west country, there was no

shaking them off, and there they have lived rent free on my best

land ever since. There was no rest for me, no peace, no forget-

fulness; turn where I would, there was his cunning, grinning

face at my elbow. It grew worse as Alice grew up, for he soon

saw I was more afraid of her knowing my past than of the police.

Whatever he wanted he must have, and whatever it was I gave

him without question, land, money, houses, until at last he

asked a thing which I could not give. He asked for Alice.

"His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I

was known to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him

that his lad should step into the whole property. But there I was

firm. I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine; not

that I had any dislike to the lad, but his blood was in him, and

that was enough. I stood firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved

him to do his worst. We were to meet at the pool midway