Read The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes Page 15

don't really mean to--"

  "Tut, man, look at their faces!" cried Holmes, curtly.

  Never certainly have I seen a plainer confession of

  guilt upon human countenances. The older man seemed

  numbed and dazed with a heavy, sullen expression upon

  his strongly-marked face. The son, on the other hand,

  had dropped all that jaunty, dashing style which had

  characterized him, and the ferocity of a dangerous

  wild beast gleamed in his dark eyes and distorted his

  handsome features. The Inspector said nothing, but,

  stepping to the door, he blew his whistle. Two of his

  constables came at the call.

  "I have no alternative, Mr. Cunningham," said he. "I

  trust that this may all prove to be an absurd mistake,

  but you can see that--Ah, would you? Drop it!" He

  struck out with his hand, and a revolver which the

  younger man was in the act of cocking clattered down

  upon the floor.

  "Keep that," said Holmes, quietly putting his foot

  upon it; "you will find it useful at the trial. But

  this is what we really wanted." He held up a little

  crumpled piece of paper.

  "The remainder of the sheet!" cried the Inspector.

  "Precisely."

  "And where was it?"

  "Where I was sure it must be. I'll make the whole

  matter clear to you presently. I think, Colonel, that

  you and Watson might return now, and I will be with

  you again in an hour at the furthest. The Inspector

  and I must have a word with the prisoners, but you

  will certainly see me back at luncheon time."

  Sherlock Holmes was as good as his word, for about one

  o'clock he rejoined us in the Colonel's smoking-room.

  He was accompanied by a little elderly gentleman, who

  was introduced to me as the Mr. Acton whose house had

  been the scene of the original burglary.

  "I wished Mr. Acton to be present while I demonstrated

  this small matter to you," said Holmes, "for it is

  natural that he should take a keen interest in the

  details. I am afraid, my dear Colonel, that you must

  regret the hour that you took in such a stormy petrel

  as I am."

  "On the contrary," answered the Colonel, warmly, "I

  consider it the greatest privilege to have been

  permitted to study your methods of working. I confess

  that they quite surpass my expectations, and that I am

  utterly unable to account for you result. I have not

  yet seen the vestige of a clue."

  "I am afraid that my explanation may disillusion you

  but it has always been my habit to hide none of my

  methods, either from my friend Watson or from any one

  who might take an intelligent interest in them. But,

  first, as I am rather shaken by the knocking about

  which I had in the dressing-room, I think that I shall

  help myself to a dash of your brandy, Colonel. My

  strength had been rather tried of late."

  "I trust that you had no more of those nervous

  attacks."

  Sherlock Holmes laughed heartily. "We will come to

  that in its turn," said he. "I will lay an account of

  the case before you in its due order, showing you the

  various points which guided me in my decision. Pray

  interrupt me if there is any inference which is not

  perfectly clear to you.

  "It is of the highest importance in the art of

  detection to be able to recognize, out of a number of

  facts, which are incidental and which vital.

  Otherwise your energy and attention must be dissipated

  instead of being concentrated. Now, in this case

  there was not the slightest doubt in my mind from the

  first that the key of the whole matter must be looked

  for in the scrap of paper in the dead man's hand.

  "Before going into this, I would draw your attention

  to the fact that, if Alec Cunningham's narrative was

  correct, and if the assailant, after shooting William

  Kirwan, had instantly fled, then it obviously could

  not be he who tore the paper from the dead man's hand.

  But if it was not he, it must have been Alec

  Cunningham himself, for by the time that the old man

  had descended several servants were upon the scene.

  The point is a simple one, but the Inspector had

  overlooked it because he had started with the

  supposition that these county magnates had had nothing

  to do with the matter. Now, I make a pint of never

  having any prejudices, and of following docilely

  wherever fact may lead me, and so, in the very first

  stage of the investigation, I found myself looking a

  little askance at the part which had been played by

  Mr. Alec Cunningham.

  "And now I made a very careful examination of the

  corner of paper which the Inspector had submitted to

  us. It was at once clear to me that it formed part of

  a very remarkable document. Here it is. Do you not

  now observed something very suggestive about it?"

  "It has a very irregular look," said the Colonel.

  "My dear sir," cried Holmes, "there cannot be the

  least doubt in the world that it has been written by

  two persons doing alternate words. When I draw your

  attention to the strong t's of 'at' and 'to', and ask

  you to compare them with the weak ones of 'quarter'

  and 'twelve,' you will instantly recognize the fact.

  A very brief analysis of these four words would enable

  you to say with the utmost confidence that the 'learn'

  and the 'maybe' are written in the stronger hand, and

  the 'what' in the weaker."

  "By Jove, it's as clear as day!" cried the Colonel.

  "Why on earth should two men write a letter in such a

  fashion?"

  "Obviously the business was a bad one, and one of the

  men who distrusted the other was determined that,

  whatever was done, each should have an equal hand in

  it. Now, of the two men, it is clear that the one who

  wrote the 'at' and 'to' was the ringleader."

  "How do you get at that?"

  "We might deduce it from the mere character of the one

  hand as compared with the other. But we have more

  assured reasons than that for supposing it. If you

  examine this scrap with attention you will come to the

  conclusion that the man with the stronger hand wrote

  all his words first, leaving blanks for the other to

  fill up. These blanks were not always sufficient, and

  you can see that the second man had a squeeze to fit

  his 'quarter' in between the 'at' and the 'to,'

  showing that the latter were already written. The man

  who wrote all his words first in undoubtedly the man

  who planned the affair."

  "Excellent!" cried Mr. Acton.

  "But very superficial," said Holmes. "We come now,

  however, to a point which is of importance. You may

  not be aware that the deduction of a man's age from

  his writing is one which has brought to considerable

  accuracy by experts. In normal cases one can place a

  man in his true decade with tolerable confidence. I

  say normal
cases, because ill-health and physical

  weakness reproduce the signs of old age, even when the

  invalid is a youth. In this case, looking at the

  bold, strong hand of the one, and the rather

  broken-backed appearance of the other, which still

  retains its legibility although the t's have begun to

  lose their crossing, we can say that the one was a

  young man and the other was advanced in years without

  being positively decrepit."

  "Excellent!" cried Mr. Acton again.

  "There is a further point, however, which is subtler

  and of greater interest. There is something in common

  between these hands. They belong to men who are

  blood-relatives. It may be most obvious to you in the

  Greek e's, but to me there are many small points which

  indicate the same thing. I have no doubt at all that

  a family mannerism can be traced in these two

  specimens of writing. I am only, of course, giving

  you the leading results now of my examination of the

  paper. There were twenty-three other deductions which

  would be of more interest to experts than to you.

  They all tend to deepen the impression upon my mind

  that the Cunninghams, father and son, had written this

  letter.

  "Having got so far, my next step was, of course, to

  examine into the details of the crime, and to see how

  far they would help us. I went up to the house with

  the Inspector, and saw all that was to be seen. The

  wound upon the dead man was, as I was able to

  determine with absolute confidence, fired from a

  revolver at the distance of something over four yards.

  There was no powder-blackening on the clothes.

  Evidently, therefore, Alec Cunningham had lied when

  he said that the two men were struggling when the shot

  was fired. Again, both father and son agreed as to

  the place where the man escaped into the road. At

  that point, however, as it happens, there is a

  broadish ditch, moist at the bottom. As there were no

  indications of bootmarks about this ditch, I was

  absolutely sure not only that the Cunninghams had

  again lied, but that there had never been any unknown

  man upon the scene at all.

  "And now I have to consider the motive of this

  singular crime. To get at this, I endeavored first of

  all to solve the reason of the original burglary at

  Mr. Acton's. I understood, from something which the

  Colonel told us, that a lawsuit had been going on

  between you, Mr. Acton, and the Cunninghams. Of

  course, it instantly occurred to me that they had

  broken into your library with the intention of getting

  at some document which might be of importance in the

  case."

  "Precisely so," said Mr. Acton. "There can be no

  possible doubt as to their intentions. I have the

  clearest claim upon half of their present estate, and

  if they could have found a single paper--which,

  fortunately, was in the strong-box of my

  solicitors--they would undoubtedly have crippled our

  case."

  "There you are," said Holmes, smiling. "It was a

  dangerous, reckless attempt, in which I seem to trace

  the influence of young Alec. Having found nothing

  they tried to divert suspicion by making it appear to

  be an ordinary burglary, to which end they carried off

  whatever they could lay their hands upon. That is all

  clear enough, but there was much that was still

  obscure. What I wanted above all was to get the

  missing part of that note. I was certain that Alec

  had torn it out of the dead man's hand, and almost

  certain that he must have thrust it into the pocket of

  his dressing-gown. Where else could he have put it?

  The only question was whether it was still there. It

  was worth an effort to find out, and for that object

  we all went up to the house.

  "The Cunninghams joined us, as you doubtless remember,

  outside the kitchen door. It was, of course, of the

  very first importance that they should not be reminded

  of the existence of this paper, otherwise they would

  naturally destroy it without delay. The Inspector was

  about to tell them the importance which we attached to

  it when, by the luckiest chance in the world, I

  tumbled down in a sort of fit and so changed the

  conversation.

  "Good heavens!" cried the Colonel, laughing, "do you

  mean to say all our sympathy was wasted and your fit

  an imposture?"

  "Speaking professionally, it was admirably done,"

  cried I, looking in amazement at this man who was

  forever confounding me with some new phase of his

  astuteness.

  "It is an art which is often useful," said he. "When

  I recovered I managed, by a device which had perhaps

  some little merit of ingenuity, to get old Cunningham

  to write the word 'twelve,' so that I might compare it

  with the 'twelve' upon the paper."

  "Oh, what an ass I have been!" I exclaimed.

  "I could see that you were commiserating me over my

  weakness," said Holmes, laughing. "I was sorry to

  cause you the sympathetic pain which I know that you

  felt. We then went upstairs together, and having

  entered the room and seen the dressing-gown hanging up

  behind the door, I contrived, by upsetting a table, to

  engage their attention for the moment, and slipped

  back to examine the pockets. I had hardly got the

  paper, however--which was, as I had expected, in one

  of them--when the two Cunninghams were on me, and

  would, I verily believe, have murdered me then and

  there but for your prompt and friendly aid. As it is,

  I feel that young man's grip on my throat now, and the

  father has twisted my wrist round in the effort to get

  the paper out of my hand. They saw that I must know

  all about it, you see, and the sudden change from

  absolute security to complete despair made them

  perfectly desperate.

  "I had a little talk with old Cunningham afterwards as

  to the motive of the crime. He was tractable enough,

  though his son was a perfect demon, ready to blow out

  his own or anybody else's brains if he could have got

  to his revolver. When Cunningham saw that the case

  against him was so strong he lost all heart and made a

  clean breast of everything. It seems that William had

  secretly followed his two masters on the night when

  they made their raid upon Mr. Acton's, and having thus

  got them into his power, proceeded, under threats of

  exposure, to levy black-mail upon them. Mr. Alec,

  however, was a dangerous man to play games of that

  sort with. It was a stroke of positive genius on his

  part to see in the burglary scare which was convulsing

  the country side an opportunity of plausibly getting

  rid of the man whom he feared. William was decoyed up

  and shot, and had they only got the whole of the note

  and paid a little more attention to detail in the

  acces
sories, it is very possible that suspicion might

  never have been aroused."

  "And the note?" I asked.

  Sherlock Holmes placed the subjoined paper before us.

  If you will only come around

  to the east gate you will

  will very much surprise you and

  be of the greatest service to you and also

  to Annie Morrison. But say nothing to

  anyone upon the matter

  "It is very much the sort of thing that I expected,"

  said he. "Of course, we do not yet know what the

  relations may have been between Alec Cunningham,

  William Kirwan, and Annie Morrison. The results shows

  that the trap was skillfully baited. I am sure that

  you cannot fail to be delighted with the traces of

  heredity shown in the p's and in the tails of the g's.

  The absence of the i-dots in the old man's writing is

  also most characteristic. Watson, I think our quiet

  rest in the country has been a distinct success, and I

  shall certainly return much invigorated to Baker

  Street to-morrow."

  Adventure VII

  The Crooked Man

  One summer night, a few months after my marriage, I

  was seated by my own hearth smoking a last pipe and

  nodding over a novel, for my day's work had been an

  exhausting one. My wife had already gone upstairs,

  and the sound of the locking of the hall door some

  time before told me that the servants had also

  retired. I had risen from my seat and was knocking

  out the ashes of my pipe when I suddenly heard the

  clang of the bell.

  I looked at the clock. It was a quarter to twelve.

  This could not be a visitor at so late an hour. A

  patient, evidently, and possibly an all-night sitting.

  With a wry face I went out into the hall and opened

  the door. To my astonishment it was Sherlock Holmes

  who stood upon my step.

  "Ah, Watson," said he, "I hoped that I might not be

  too late to catch you."

  "My dear fellow, pray come in."

  "You look surprised, and no wonder! Relieved, too, I

  fancy! Hum! You still smoke the Arcadia mixture of

  your bachelor days then! There's no mistaking that

  fluffy ash upon your coat. It's easy to tell that you

  have been accustomed to wear a uniform, Watson.

  You'll never pass as a pure-bred civilian as long as

  you keep that habit of carrying your handkerchief in

  your sleeve. Could you put me up tonight?"

  "With pleasure."

  "You told me that you had bachelor quarters for one,

  and I see that you have no gentleman visitor at

  present. Your hat-stand proclaims as much."

  "I shall be delighted if you will stay."

  "Thank you. I'll fill the vacant peg then. Sorry to

  see that you've had the British workman in the house.

  He's a token of evil. Not the drains, I hope?"

  "No, the gas."

  "Ah! He has left two nail-marks from his boot upon

  your linoleum just where the light strikes it. No,

  thank you, I had some supper at Waterloo, but I'll

  smoke a pipe with you with pleasure."

  I handed him my pouch, and he seated himself opposite

  to me and smoked for some time in silence. I was well

  aware that nothing but business of importance would

  have brought him to me at such an hour, so I waited

  patiently until he should come round to it.

  "I see that you are professionally rather busy just

  now," said he, glancing very keenly across at me.

  "Yes, I've had a busy day," I answered. "It may seem

  very foolish in your eyes," I added, "but really I

  don't know how you deduced it."

  Holmes chuckled to himself.

  "I have the advantage of knowing your habits, my dear

  Watson," said he. "When your round is a short one you

  walk, and when it is a long one you use a hansom. As

  I perceive that your boots, although used, are by no

  means dirty, I cannot doubt that you are at present

  busy enough to justify the hansom."

  "Excellent!" I cried.

  "Elementary," said he. "It is one of those instances

  where the reasoner can produce an effect which seems

  remarkable to his neighbor, because the latter has

  missed the one little point which is the basis of the

  deduction. The same may be said, my dear fellow, for

  the effect of some of these little sketches of your,

  which is entirely meretricious, depending as it does

  upon your retaining in your own hands some factors in