第 19 页

strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless

nights."

"What! You do not mean bodies?"

"Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had

1000 pounds for every poor devil who has been done to death in that

den. It is the vilest murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear

that Neville St. Clair has entered it never to leave it more. But

our trap should be here." He put his two forefingers between his

teeth and whistled shrilly -- a signal which was answered by a

similar whistle from the distance, followed shortly by the rattle

of wheels and the clink of horses' hoofs.

"Now, Watson," said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up

through the gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow

light from its side lanterns. "You'll come with me, won't you?

"If I can be of use."

"Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still

more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one."

"The Cedars?"

"Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair's house. I am staying there while I

conduct the inquiry."

"Where is it, then?"

"Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us."

"But I am all in the dark."

"Of course you are. You'll know all about it presently. Jump

up here. All right, John; we shall not need you. Here's half a

crown. Look out for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her

head. So long, then!"

He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away

through the endless succession of sombre and deserted streets,

which widened gradually, until we were flying across a broad

balustraded bridge, with the murky river flowing sluggishly be-

neath us. Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and

mortar, its silence broken only by the heavy, regular footfall of

the policeman, or the songs and shouts of some belated party of

revellers. A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the sky, and a

star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts of the

clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with his head sunk upon his

breast, and the air of a man who is lost in thought, while I sat

beside him, curious to learn what this new quest might be which

seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to break in

upon the current of his thoughts. We had driven several miles,

and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of suburban

villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and lit

up his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that

he is acting for the best.

"You have a grand gift of silence, Watson," said he. "It

makes you quite invaluable as a companion. 'Pon my word, it is

a great thing for me to have someone to talk to, for my own

thoughts are not over-pleasant. I was wondering what I should

say to this dear little woman to-night when she meets me at the

door."

"You forget that I know nothing about it."

"I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before

we get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I

can get nothing to go upon. There's plenty of thread, no doubt,

but I can't get the end of it into my hand. Now, I'll state the case

clearly and concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a

spark where all is dark to me."

"Proceed, then."

"Some years ago -- to be definite, in May, 1884 -- there came

to Lee a gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to

have plenty of money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds

very nicely, and lived generally in good style. By degrees he

made friends in the neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the

daughter of a local brewer, by whom he now has two children.

He had no occupation, but was interested in several companies

and went into town as a rule in the morning, returning by the

5:14 from Cannon Street every night. Mr. St. Clair is now

thirty-seven years of age, is a man of temperate habits, a good

husband, a very affectionate father, and a man who is popular

with all who know him. I may add that his whole debts at the

present moment, as far as we have been able to ascertain

amount to 88 pounds lOs., while he has 220 pounds standing to his credit in

the Capital and Counties Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to

think that money troubles have been weighing upon his mind.

"Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather

earlier than usual, remarking before he started that he had two

important commissions to perform, and that he would bring his

little boy home a box of bricks. Now, by the merest chance, his

wife received a telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly

after his departure, to the effect that a small parcel of consider-

able value which she had been expecting was waiting for her at

the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. Now, if you are

well up in your London, you will know that the office of the

company is in Fresno Street, which branches out of Upper

Swandam Lane, where you found me to-night. Mrs. St. Clair

had her lunch, started for the City, did some shopping, pro-

ceeded to the company's office, got her packet, and found

herself at exactly 4:35 walking through Swandam Lane on her

way back to the station. Have you followed me so far?"

"It is very clear."

"lf you remember, Monday was an exceedingly hot day, and

Mrs. St. Clair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of

seeing a cab, as she did not like the neighbourhood in which she

found herself. While she was walking in this way down Swandam

Lane, she suddenly heard an ejaculation or cry, and was struck

cold to see her husband looking down at her and, as it seemed to

her, beckoning to her from a second-floor window. The window

was open, and she distinctly saw his face, which she describes as

being terribly agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her,

and then vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to

her that he had been plucked back by some irresistible force from

behind. One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye

was that although he wore some dark coat, such as he had started

to town in, he had on neither collar nor necktie.

"Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed

down the steps -- for the house was none other than the opium den

in which you found me to-night -- and running through the front

room she attempted to ascend the stairs which led to the first

floor. At the foot of the stairs, however, she met this lascar

scoundrel of whom I have spoken, who thrust her back and,

aided by a Dane, who acts as assistant there, pushed her out into

the street. Filled with the most maddening doubts and fears, she

rushed down the lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in Fresno

Street a number of constables with an inspector, all on their way

to their beat. The inspector and two men accompanied her back,

and in spite of the continued resistance of the proprietor, they

made their way to the room in which Mr. St. Clair had last been

seen. There was no sign of him there. In fact, in the whole of

that floor there was no one to be found save a crippled wretch of

hideous aspect, who, it seems, made his home there. Both he

and the lascar stoutly swore that no one else had been in the front

room during the afternoon. So determined was their denial that

the inspector was staggered, and had almost come to believe that

Mrs. St. Clair had been deluded when, with a cry, she sprang at

a small deal box which lay upon the table and tore the lid from

it. Out there fell a cascade of children's bricks. It was the toy

which he had promised to bring home.

"This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple

showed, made the inspector realize that the matter was serious.

The rooms were carefully examined, and results all pointed to an

abominable crime. The front room was plainly furnished as a

sitting-room and led into a small bedroom, which looked out

upon the back of one of the wharves. Between the wharf and the

bedroom window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low tide but

is covered at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water.

The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below.

On examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the window-

sill, and several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden

floor of the bedroom. Thrust away behind a curtain in the front

room were all the clothes of Mr. Neville St. Clair, with the

exception of his coat. His boots, his socks, his hat, and his

watch -- all were there. There were no signs of violence upon any

of these garments, and there were no other traces of Mr. Neville

St. Clair. Out of the window he must apparently have gone for

no other exit could be discovered, and the ominous bloodstains

upon the sill gave little promise that he could save himself by

swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of

the tragedy.

"And now as to the villains who seemed to be immedlately

implicated in the matter. The lascar was known to be a man of

the vilest antecedents, but as, by Mrs. St. Clair's story, he was

known to have been at the foot of the stair within a very few

seconds of her husband's appearance at the window, he could

hardly have been more than an accessory to the crime. His

defense was one of absolute ignorance, and he protested that he

had no knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger,

and that he could not account in any way for the presence of the

missing gentleman's clothes.

"So much for the lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple

who lives upon the second floor of the opium den, and who was

certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville

St. Clair. His name is Hugh Boone, and his hideous face is one

which is familiar to every man who goes much to the City. He is

a professional beggar, though in order to avoid the police regula-

tions he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas. Some little

distance down Threadneedle Street. upon the left-hand side,

there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall.

Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat, cross-legged

with his tiny stock of matches on his lap, and as he is a piteous

spectacle a small rain of charity descends into the greasy leather

cap which lies upon the pavement beside him. I have watched

the fellow more than once before ever I thought of making his

professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised at the har-

vest which he has reaped in a short time. His appearance, you

see, is so remarkable that no one can pass him without observing

him. A shock of orange hair, a pale face disfigured by a horrible

scar, which, by its contraction, has turned up the outer edge of

his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark

eyes, which present a singular contrast to the colour of his hair,

all mark him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants

and so, too, does his wit, for he is ever ready with a reply to any

piece of chaff which may be thrown at him by the passers-by.

This is the man whom we now learn to have been the lodger at

the opium den, and to have been the last man to see the

gentleman of whom we are in quest."

"But a cripple!" said I. "What could he have done single-

handed against a man in the prime of life?"

"He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but in

other respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured

man. Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson,

that weakness in one limb is often compensated for by excep-

tional strength in the others."

"Pray continue your narrative."

"Mrs. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the

window, and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, as

her presence could be of no help to them in their investigations.

Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case, made a very

careful examination of the premises, but without finding any-

thing which threw any light upon the matter. One mistake had

been made in not arresting Boone instantly, as he was allowed

some few minutes during which he might have communicated

with his friend the lascar, but this fault was soon remedied, and

he was seized and searched, without anything being found which

could incriminate him. There were, it is true, some blood-stains

upon his right shirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger,

which had been cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding

came from there, adding that he had been to the window not long

before, and that the stains which had been observed there came

doubtless from the same source. He denied strenuously having

ever seen Mr. Neville St. Clair and swore that the presence of

the clothes in his room was as much a mystery to him as to the

police. As to Mrs. St. Clair's assertion that she had actually seen

her husband at the window, he declared that she must have been

either mad or dreaming. He was removed, loudly protesting, to

the police-station, while the inspector remained upon the prem-

ises in the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh

clue.

"And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank

what they had feared to find. It was Neville St. Clair's coat, and

not Neville St. Clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded.

And what do you think they found in the pockets?"

"I cannot imagine."

"No, I don't think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed

with pennies and half-pennies -- 421 pennies and 270 half-pennies.

It was no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide.

But a human body is a different matter. There is a fierce eddy

between the wharf and the house. It seemed likely enough that

the weighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been

sucked away into the river."

"But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the