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."
Adventure II
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 fare 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 out 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 you 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 life and in her
thought of which I know as little as if she were the
woman who brushes by me in the street. We are
estranged, and I want to know why.
"Now there is one thing that I want to impress upon
you before I go any further, Mr. Holmes. Effie loves
me. Don't let there be any mistake about that. She
loves me with her whole heart and soul, and never more
than now. I know it. I feel it. I don't want to
argue about that. A man can tell easily enough when a
woman loves him. But there's this secret between us,
and we can never be the same until it is cleared."
"Kindly let me have the facts, Mr. Munro," said
Holmes, with some impatience.
"I'll tell you what I know about Effie's history. She
was a widow when I met her first, though quite
young--only twenty-five. Her name then was Mrs.
Hebron. She went out to America when she was young,
and lived in the town of Atlanta, where she married
this Hebron, who was a lawyer with a good practice.
They had one child, but the yellow fever broke out
badly in the place, and both husband and child died of
it. I have seen his death certificate. This sickened
her of America, and she came back to live with a
maiden aunt at Pinner, in Middlesex. I may mention
that her husband had left her comfortably off, and
that she had a capital of about four thousand five
hundred pounds, which had been so well invested by him
that it returned an average of seven per cent. She
had only been six months at Pinner when I met her; we
fell in love with each other, and we married a few
weeks afterwards.
"I
am a hop merchant myself, and as I have an income
of seven or eight hundred, we found ourselves
comfortably off, and took a nice eighty-pound-a-year
villa at Norbury. Our little place was very
countrified, considering that it is so close to town.
We had an inn and two houses a little above us, and a
single cottage at the other side of the field which
faces us, and except those there were no houses until
you got half way to the station. My business took me
into town at certain seasons, but in summer I had less
to do, and then in our country home my wife and I were
just as happy as could be wished. I tell you that
there never was a shadow between us until this
accursed affair began.
"There's one thing I ought to tell you before I go
further. When we married, my wife made over all her
property to me--rather against my will, for I saw how
awkward it would be if my business affairs went wrong.
However, she would have it so, and it was done. Well,
about six weeks ago she came to me.
"'Jack,' said she, 'when you took my money you said
that if ever I wanted any I was to ask you for it.'
"'Certainly,' said I. 'It's all your own.'
"'Well,' said she, 'I want a hundred pounds.'
"I was a bit staggered at this, for I had imagined it
was simply a new dress or something of the kind that
she was after.
"'What on earth for?' I asked.
"'Oh,' said she, in her playful way, 'you said that
you were only my banker, and bankers never ask
questions, you know.'
"'If you really mean it, of course you shall have the
money,' said I.
"'Oh, yes, I really mean it.'
"'And you won't tell me what you want it for?'
"'Some day, perhaps, but not just at present, Jack.'
"So I had to be content with that, thought it was the
first time that there had ever been any secret between
us. I gave her a check, and I never thought any more
of the matter. It may have nothing to do with what
came afterwards, but I thought it only right to
mention it.
"Well, I told you just now that there is a cottage not
far from our house. There is just a field between us,
but to reach it you have to go along the road and then
turn down a lane. Just beyond it is a nice little
grove of Scotch firs, and I used to be very fond of
strolling down there, for trees are always a
neighborly kind of things. The cottage had been
standing empty this eight months, and it was a pity,
for it was a pretty two storied place, with an
old-fashioned porch and honeysuckle about it. I have
stood many a time and thought what a neat little
homestead it would make.
"Well, last Monday evening I was taking a stroll down
that way, when I met an empty van coming up the lane,
and saw a pile of carpets and things lying about on
the grass-plot beside the porch. It was clear that
the cottage had at last been let. I walked past it,
and wondered what sort of folk they were who had come
to live so near us. And as I looked I suddenly became
aware that a face was watching me out of one of the
upper windows.
"I don't know what there was about that face, Mr.
Holmes, but it seemed to send a chill right down my
back. I was some little way off, so that I could not
make out the features, but there was something
unnatural and inhuman about the face. That was the
impression that I had, and I moved quickly forwards to
get a nearer view of the person who was watching me.
But as I did so the face suddenly disappeared, so
suddenly that it seemed to have been plucked away into
the darkness of the room. I stood for five minutes
thinking the business over, and trying to analyze my
impressions. I could not tell if the face were that
of a man or a woman. It had been too far from me for
that. But its color was what had impressed me most.
It was of a livid chalky white, and with something set
and rigid about it which was shockingly unnatural. So
disturbed was I that I determined to see a little more
of the new inmates of the cottage. I approached and
knocked at the door, which was instantly opened by a
tall, gaunt woman with a harsh, forbidding face.
"'What may you be wantin'?' she asked, in a Northern
accent.
"'I am your neighbor over yonder,' said I, nodding