第 26 页

a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a

baboon, which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by

the villagers almost as much as their master.

"You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia

and I had no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay

with us, and for a long time we did all the work of the house.

She was but thirty at the time of her death, and yet her hair had

already begun to whiten, even as mine has."

"Your sister is dead, then?"

"She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish

to speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I

have described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own

age and position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother's

maiden sister, Miss Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow,

and we were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this

lady's house. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and

met there a half-pay major of marines, to whom she became

engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my

sister returned and offered no objection to the marriage; but

wlthin a fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the

wedding, the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of

my only companion."

Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his

eyes closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened

hls lids now and glanced across at his visitor.

"Pray be precise as to details," said he.

"It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful

time is seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have

already said, very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The

bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms

being in the central block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms the

first is Dr. Roylott's, the second my sister's, and the third my

own. There is no communication between them, but they all

open out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?"

"Perfectly so."

"The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That

fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we

knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled

by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom

to smoke. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine,

where she sat for some time, chatting about her approaching

wedding. At eleven o'clock she rose to leave me, but she paused

at the door and looked back.

" 'Tell me, Helen,' said she, 'have you ever heard anyone

whistle in the dead of the night?'

" 'Never,' said I.

" 'I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in

your sleep?'

" 'Certainly not. But why?'

" 'Because during the last few nights I have always, about

three in the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light

sleeper, and it has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came

from perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the lawn. I

thought that I would just ask you whether you had heard it.'

" 'No, I have not. It must be those wretched gypsies in the

plantation.'

" 'Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that

you did not hear it also.'

" 'Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.'

" 'Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.' She

smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I

heard her key turn in the lock."

"Indeed," said Holmes. "Was it your custom always to lock

yourselves in at night?"

"Always."

"And why?"

"I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah

and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors

were locked."

"Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement."

"I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending

misfortune impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect,

were twins, and you know how subtle are the links which bind

two souls which are so closely allied. It was a wild night. The

wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splash-

ing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the

gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman. I

knew that it was my sister's voice. I sprang from my bed,

wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I

opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my

sister described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if

a mass of metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my

sister's door was unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges.

I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to

issue from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister

appear at the opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands

groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of

a drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that

moment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the

ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs

were dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that she had not

recognized me, but as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out

in a voice which I shall never forget, 'Oh, my God! Helen! It

was the band! The speckled band!' There was something else

which she would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger

into the air in the direction of the doctor's room, but a fresh

convulsion seized her and choked her words. I rushed out,

calling loudly for my stepfather, and I met him hastening from

his room in his dressing-gown. When he reached my sister's side

she was unconscious, and though he poured brandy down her

throat and sent for medical aid from the village, all efforts were

in vain, for she slowly sank and died without having recovered

her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved

sister."

One moment," said Holmes, "are you sure about this whis-

tle and metallic sound? Could you swear to it?"

"That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It

is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash

of the gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have

been deceived."

"Was your sister dressed?"

"No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found

the charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box."

"Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her

when the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclu-

sions did the coroner come to?"

"He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott's

conduct had long been notorious in the county, but he was

unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence

showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and

the windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad

iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were

carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round,

and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same

result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large

staples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone

when she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any

violence upon her."

"How about poison?"

"The doctors examined her for it, but without success."

"What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?"

"It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock,

though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine."

"Were there gypsies in the plantation at the time?"

"Yes, there are nearly always some there."

"Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band -- a

speckled band?"

"Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of

delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of

people, perhaps to these very gypsies in the plantation. I do not

know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them

wear over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective

which she used."

Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being

satisfied.

"These are very deep waters," said he; "pray go on with your

narrative."

"Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until

lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend,

whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to

ask my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage -- Percy

Armitage -- the second son of Mr. Armitage, of Crane Water,

near Reading. My stepfather has offered no opposition to the

match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Two

days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the

building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have

had to move into the chamber in which my sister died, and to

sleep in the very bed in which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill

of terror when last night, as I lay awake, thinking over her

terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low

whistle which had been the herald of her own death. I sprang up

and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was

too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as

soon as it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the

Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from

whence I have come on this morning with the one object of

seeing you and asking your advice."

"You have done wisely," said my friend. "But have you told

me all?"

"Yes, all."

"Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your

stepfather."

"Why, what do you mean?"

For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which

fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor's knee. Five little livid

spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon

the white wrist.

"You have been cruelly used," said Holmes.

The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist.

"He is a hard man," she said, "and perhaps he hardly knows

his own strength."

There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his

chin upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire.

"This is a very deep business," he said at last. "There are a

thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide

upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If

we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for

us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your

stepfather?"

"As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon

some most important business. It is probable that he will be

away all day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We

have a housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could

easily get her out of the way."

"Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?"

"By no means."

"Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?"

"I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I

am in town. But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as

to be there in time for your coming."

"And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself

some small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and

breakfast?"

"No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have

confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you

again this afternoon." She dropped her thick black veil over her

face and glided from the room.

"And what do you think of it all, Watson?" asked Sherlock

Holmes, leaning back in his chair.

"It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business."

"Dark enough and sinister enough."

"Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls

are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impass-

able, then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she

met her mysterious end."

"What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what

of the very peculiar words of the dying woman?"

"I cannot think."

"When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the pres-

ence of a band of gypsies who are on intimate terms with this old

doctor, the fact that we have every reason to believe that the

doctor has an interest in preventing his stepdaughter's marriage,

the dying allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss

Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang, which might have been

caused by one of those metal bars that secured the shutters

falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground to

think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines."

"But what, then, did the gypsies do?"

"I cannot imagine."

"I see many objections to any such theory."

"And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going

to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are

fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of

the devil!"

The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the

fact that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a

huge man had framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a

peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural,

having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high

gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he

that his hat actually brushed the cross bar of the- doorway, and

his breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large

face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the