Adventure VII. The Crooked Man
One summer night, a few months after my marriage, I was seated by my ownhearth smoking a last pipe and nodding over a novel, for my day's workhad been an exhausting one. My wife had already gone upstairs, and thesound of the locking of the hall door some time before told me that theservants had also retired. I had risen from my seat and was knocking outthe 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 bea visitor at so late an hour. A patient, evidently, and possibly anall-night sitting. With a wry face I went out into the hall and openedthe door. To my astonishment it was Sherlock Holmes who stood upon mystep.
"Ah, Watson," said he, "I hoped that I might not be too late to catchyou."
"My dear fellow, pray come in."
"You look surprised, and no wonder! Relieved, too, I fancy! Hum! Youstill smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days then! There's nomistaking that fluffy ash upon your coat. It's easy to tell that youhave been accustomed to wear a uniform, Watson. You'll never pass asa pure-bred civilian as long as you keep that habit of carrying yourhandkerchief in your sleeve. Could you put me up to-night?"
"With pleasure."
"You told me that you had bachelor quarters for one, and I see that youhave 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 hadthe 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 linoleumjust where the light strikes it. No, thank you, I had some supper atWaterloo, but I'll smoke a pipe with you with pleasure."
I handed him my pouch, and he seated himself opposite to me and smokedfor some time in silence. I was well aware that nothing but businessof importance would have brought him to me at such an hour, so I waitedpatiently 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 inyour 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 youuse a hansom. As I perceive that your boots, although used, are byno means dirty, I cannot doubt that you are at present busy enough tojustify the hansom."
"Excellent!" I cried.
"Elementary," said he. "It is one of those instances where the reasonercan produce an effect which seems remarkable to his neighbor, becausethe latter has missed the one little point which is the basis of thededuction. The same may be said, my dear fellow, for the effect ofsome of these little sketches of yours, which is entirely meretricious,depending as it does upon your retaining in your own hands some factorsin the problem which are never imparted to the reader. Now, at presentI am in the position of these same readers, for I hold in this handseveral threads of one of the strangest cases which ever perplexed aman's brain, and yet I lack the one or two which are needful to completemy theory. But I'll have them, Watson, I'll have them!" His eyes kindledand a slight flush sprang into his thin cheeks. For an instant only.When I glanced again his face had resumed that red-Indian composurewhich had made so many regard him as a machine rather than a man.
"The problem presents features of interest," said he. "I may even sayexceptional features of interest. I have already looked into the matter,and have come, as I think, within sight of my solution. If you couldaccompany me in that last step you might be of considerable service tome."
"I should be delighted."
"Could you go as far as Aldershot to-morrow?"
"I have no doubt Jackson would take my practice."
"Very good. I want to start by the 11.10 from Waterloo."
"That would give me time."
"Then, if you are not too sleepy, I will give you a sketch of what hashappened, and of what remains to be done."
"I was sleepy before you came. I am quite wakeful now."
"I will compress the story as far as may be done without omittinganything vital to the case. It is conceivable that you may even haveread some account of the matter. It is the supposed murder of ColonelBarclay, of the Royal Munsters, at Aldershot, which I am investigating."
"I have heard nothing of it."
"It has not excited much attention yet, except locally. The facts areonly two days old. Briefly they are these:
"The Royal Munsters is, as you know, one of the most famous Irishregiments in the British army. It did wonders both in the Crimea and theMutiny, and has since that time distinguished itself upon every possibleoccasion. It was commanded up to Monday night by James Barclay,a gallant veteran, who started as a full private, was raised tocommissioned rank for his bravery at the time of the Mutiny, and solived to command the regiment in which he had once carried a musket.
"Colonel Barclay had married at the time when he was a sergeant, andhis wife, whose maiden name was Miss Nancy Devoy, was the daughter of aformer color-sergeant in the same corps. There was, therefore, as canbe imagined, some little social friction when the young couple (forthey were still young) found themselves in their new surroundings. Theyappear, however, to have quickly adapted themselves, and Mrs. Barclayhas always, I understand, been as popular with the ladies of theregiment as her husband was with his brother officers. I may add thatshe was a woman of great beauty, and that even now, when she has beenmarried for upwards of thirty years, she is still of a striking andqueenly appearance.
"Colonel Barclay's family life appears to have been a uniformly happyone. Major Murphy, to whom I owe most of my facts, assures me that hehas never heard of any misunderstanding between the pair. On the whole,he thinks that Barclay's devotion to his wife was greater than hiswife's to Barclay. He was acutely uneasy if he were absent from her fora day. She, on the other hand, though devoted and faithful, was lessobtrusively affectionate. But they were regarded in the regiment asthe very model of a middle-aged couple. There was absolutely nothing intheir mutual relations to prepare people for the tragedy which was tofollow.
"Colonel Barclay himself seems to have had some singular traits in hischaracter. He was a dashing, jovial old soldier in his usual mood,but there were occasions on which he seemed to show himself capableof considerable violence and vindictiveness. This side of his nature,however, appears never to have been turned towards his wife. Anotherfact, which had struck Major Murphy and three out of five of the otherofficers with whom I conversed, was the singular sort of depressionwhich came upon him at times. As the major expressed it, the smile hadoften been struck from his mouth, as if by some invisible hand, when hehas been joining the gayeties and chaff of the mess-table. For days onend, when the mood was on him, he has been sunk in the deepest gloom.This and a certain tinge of superstition were the only unusual traitsin his character which his brother officers had observed. The latterpeculiarity took the form of a dislike to being left alone, especiallyafter dark. This puerile feature in a nature which was conspicuouslymanly had often given rise to comment and conjecture.
"The first battalion of the Royal Munsters (which is the old 117th) hasbeen stationed at Aldershot for some years. The married officers liveout of barracks, and the Colonel has during all this time occupied avilla called Lachine, about half a mile from the north camp. The housestands in its own grounds, but the west side of it is not more thanthirty yards from the high-road. A coachman and two maids form thestaff of servants. These with their master and mistress were the soleoccupants of Lachine, for the Barclays had no children, nor was it usualfor them to have resident visitors.
"Now for the events at Lachine between nine and ten on the evening oflast Monday."
"Mrs. Barclay was, it appears, a member of the Roman Cathol
ic Church,and had interested herself very much in the establishment of the Guildof St. George, which was formed in connection with the Watt StreetChapel for the purpose of supplying the poor with cast-off clothing.A meeting of the Guild had been held that evening at eight, and Mrs.Barclay had hurried over her dinner in order to be present at it. Whenleaving the house she was heard by the coachman to make some commonplaceremark to her husband, and to assure him that she would be back beforevery long. She then called for Miss Morrison, a young lady who livesin the next villa, and the two went off together to their meeting. Itlasted forty minutes, and at a quarter-past nine Mrs. Barclay returnedhome, having left Miss Morrison at her door as she passed.
"There is a room which is used as a morning-room at Lachine. This facesthe road and opens by a large glass folding-door on to the lawn. Thelawn is thirty yards across, and is only divided from the highway bya low wall with an iron rail above it. It was into this room that Mrs.Barclay went upon her return. The blinds were not down, for the room wasseldom used in the evening, but Mrs. Barclay herself lit the lamp andthen rang the bell, asking Jane Stewart, the house-maid, to bring hera cup of tea, which was quite contrary to her usual habits. The Colonelhad been sitting in the dining-room, but hearing that his wife hadreturned he joined her in the morning-room. The coachman saw him crossthe hall and enter it. He was never seen again alive.
"The tea which had been ordered was brought up at the end of tenminutes; but the maid, as she approached the door, was surprised tohear the voices of her master and mistress in furious altercation. Sheknocked without receiving any answer, and even turned the handle, butonly to find that the door was locked upon the inside. Naturally enoughshe ran down to tell the cook, and the two women with the coachman cameup into the hall and listened to the dispute which was still raging.They all agreed that only two voices were to be heard, those of Barclayand of his wife. Barclay's remarks were subdued and abrupt, so that noneof them were audible to the listeners. The lady's, on the other hand,were most bitter, and when she raised her voice could be plainly heard.'You coward!' she repeated over and over again. 'What can be done now?What can be done now? Give me back my life. I will never so much asbreathe the same air with you again! You coward! You coward!' Those werescraps of her conversation, ending in a sudden dreadful cry in the man'svoice, with a crash, and a piercing scream from the woman. Convincedthat some tragedy had occurred, the coachman rushed to the door andstrove to force it, while scream after scream issued from within. He wasunable, however, to make his way in, and the maids were too distractedwith fear to be of any assistance to him. A sudden thought struck him,however, and he ran through the hall door and round to the lawn uponwhich the long French windows open. One side of the window was open,which I understand was quite usual in the summer-time, and he passedwithout difficulty into the room. His mistress had ceased to scream andwas stretched insensible upon a couch, while with his feet tilted overthe side of an arm-chair, and his head upon the ground near the cornerof the fender, was lying the unfortunate soldier stone dead in a pool ofhis own blood.
"Naturally, the coachman's first thought, on finding that he could donothing for his master, was to open the door. But here an unexpected andsingular difficulty presented itself. The key was not in the inner sideof the door, nor could he find it anywhere in the room. He went outagain, therefore, through the window, and having obtained the help ofa policeman and of a medical man, he returned. The lady, against whomnaturally the strongest suspicion rested, was removed to her room, stillin a state of insensibility. The Colonel's body was then placed upon thesofa, and a careful examination made of the scene of the tragedy.
"The injury from which the unfortunate veteran was suffering was foundto be a jagged cut some two inches long at the back part of his head,which had evidently been caused by a violent blow from a blunt weapon.Nor was it difficult to guess what that weapon may have been. Upon thefloor, close to the body, was lying a singular club of hard carved woodwith a bone handle. The Colonel possessed a varied collection of weaponsbrought from the different countries in which he had fought, and itis conjectured by the police that his club was among his trophies. Theservants deny having seen it before, but among the numerous curiositiesin the house it is possible that it may have been overlooked. Nothingelse of importance was discovered in the room by the police, save theinexplicable fact that neither upon Mrs. Barclay's person nor upon thatof the victim nor in any part of the room was the missing key tobe found. The door had eventually to be opened by a locksmith fromAldershot.
"That was the state of things, Watson, when upon the Tuesday morning I,at the request of Major Murphy, went down to Aldershot to supplementthe efforts of the police. I think that you will acknowledge that theproblem was already one of interest, but my observations soon made merealize that it was in truth much more extraordinary than would at firstsight appear.
"Before examining the room I cross-questioned the servants, but onlysucceeded in eliciting the facts which I have already stated. One otherdetail of interest was remembered by Jane Stewart, the housemaid. Youwill remember that on hearing the sound of the quarrel she descended andreturned with the other servants. On that first occasion, when she wasalone, she says that the voices of her master and mistress were sunkso low that she could hear hardly anything, and judged by their tonesrather than their words that they had fallen out. On my pressing her,however, she remembered that she heard the word David uttered twice bythe lady. The point is of the utmost importance as guiding us towardsthe reason of the sudden quarrel. The Colonel's name, you remember, wasJames.
"There was one thing in the case which had made the deepest impressionboth upon the servants and the police. This was the contortion of theColonel's face. It had set, according to their account, into the mostdreadful expression of fear and horror which a human countenance iscapable of assuming. More than one person fainted at the mere sightof him, so terrible was the effect. It was quite certain that he hadforeseen his fate, and that it had caused him the utmost horror. This,of course, fitted in well enough with the police theory, if the Colonelcould have seen his wife making a murderous attack upon him. Nor wasthe fact of the wound being on the back of his head a fatal objection tothis, as he might have turned to avoid the blow. No information couldbe got from the lady herself, who was temporarily insane from an acuteattack of brain-fever.
"From the police I learned that Miss Morrison, who you remember went outthat evening with Mrs. Barclay, denied having any knowledge of what itwas which had caused the ill-humor in which her companion had returned.
"Having gathered these facts, Watson, I smoked several pipes over them,trying to separate those which were crucial from others which weremerely incidental. There could be no question that the most distinctiveand suggestive point in the case was the singular disappearance of thedoor-key. A most careful search had failed to discover it in the room.Therefore it must have been taken from it. But neither the Colonelnor the Colonel's wife could have taken it. That was perfectly clear.Therefore a third person must have entered the room. And that thirdperson could only have come in through the window. It seemed to me thata careful examination of the room and the lawn might possibly revealsome traces of this mysterious individual. You know my methods, Watson.There was not one of them which I did not apply to the inquiry. And itended by my discovering traces, but very different ones from those whichI had expected. There had been a man in the room, and he had crossedthe lawn coming from the road. I was able to obtain five very clearimpressions of his foot-marks: one in the roadway itself, at the pointwhere he had climbed the low wall, two on the lawn, and two very faintones upon the stained boards near the window where he had entered.He had apparently rushed across the lawn, for his toe-marks were muchdeeper than his heels. But it was not the man who surprised me. It washis companion."
"His companion!"
Holmes pulled a large sheet of tissue-paper out of his pocket andcarefully unfolded it upon his knee.
"What do you make of that?" he asked.
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br /> The paper was covered with the tracings of the foot-marks of some smallanimal. It had five well-marked foot-pads, an indication of long nails,and the whole print might be nearly as large as a dessert-spoon.
"It's a dog," said I.
"Did you ever hear of a dog running up a curtain? I found distincttraces that this creature had done so."
"A monkey, then?"
"But it is not the print of a monkey."
"What can it be, then?"
"Neither dog nor cat nor monkey nor any creature that we are familiarwith. I have tried to reconstruct it from the measurements. Here arefour prints where the beast has been standing motionless. You see thatit is no less than fifteen inches from fore-foot to hind. Add to thatthe length of neck and head, and you get a creature not much less thantwo feet long--probably more if there is any tail. But now observe thisother measurement. The animal has been moving, and we have the lengthof its stride. In each case it is only about three inches. You have anindication, you see, of a long body with very short legs attached to it.It has not been considerate enough to leave any of its hair behind it.But its general shape must be what I have indicated, and it can run up acurtain, and it is carnivorous."
"How do you deduce that?"
"Because it ran up the curtain. A canary's cage was hanging in thewindow, and its aim seems to have been to get at the bird."
"Then what was the beast?"
"Ah, if I could give it a name it might go a long way towards solvingthe case. On the whole, it was probably some creature of the weasel andstoat tribe--and yet it is larger than any of these that I have seen."
"But what had it to do with the crime?"
"That, also, is still obscure. But we have learned a good deal, youperceive. We know that a man stood in the road looking at the quarrelbetween the Barclays--the blinds were up and the room lighted. We know,also, that he ran across the lawn, entered the room, accompanied by astrange animal, and that he either struck the Colonel or, as is equallypossible, that the Colonel fell down from sheer fright at the sight ofhim, and cut his head on the corner of the fender. Finally, we have thecurious fact that the intruder carried away the key with him when heleft."
"Your discoveries seem to have left the business more obscure that itwas before," said I.
"Quite so. They undoubtedly showed that the affair was much deeper thanwas at first conjectured. I thought the matter over, and I came tothe conclusion that I must approach the case from another aspect. Butreally, Watson, I am keeping you up, and I might just as well tell youall this on our way to Aldershot to-morrow."
"Thank you, you have gone rather too far to stop."
"It is quite certain that when Mrs. Barclay left the house at half-pastseven she was on good terms with her husband. She was never, as I thinkI have said, ostentatiously affectionate, but she was heard by thecoachman chatting with the Colonel in a friendly fashion. Now, it wasequally certain that, immediately on her return, she had gone to theroom in which she was least likely to see her husband, had flown to teaas an agitated woman will, and finally, on his coming in to her, hadbroken into violent recriminations. Therefore something had occurredbetween seven-thirty and nine o'clock which had completely altered herfeelings towards him. But Miss Morrison had been with her during thewhole of that hour and a half. It was absolutely certain, therefore, inspite of her denial, that she must know something of the matter.
"My first conjecture was, that possibly there had been some passagesbetween this young lady and the old soldier, which the former had nowconfessed to the wife. That would account for the angry return, andalso for the girl's denial that anything had occurred. Nor would it beentirely incompatible with most of the words overheard. But there was thereference to David, and there was the known affection of the Colonel forhis wife, to weigh against it, to say nothing of the tragic intrusionof this other man, which might, of course, be entirely disconnected withwhat had gone before. It was not easy to pick one's steps, but, on thewhole, I was inclined to dismiss the idea that there had been anythingbetween the Colonel and Miss Morrison, but more than ever convinced thatthe young lady held the clue as to what it was which had turned Mrs.Barclay to hatred of her husband. I took the obvious course, therefore,of calling upon Miss M., of explaining to her that I was perfectlycertain that she held the facts in her possession, and of assuring herthat her friend, Mrs. Barclay, might find herself in the dock upon acapital charge unless the matter were cleared up.
"Miss Morrison is a little ethereal slip of a girl, with timid eyesand blond hair, but I found her by no means wanting in shrewdness andcommon-sense. She sat thinking for some time after I had spoken, andthen, turning to me with a brisk air of resolution, she broke into aremarkable statement which I will condense for your benefit.
"'I promised my friend that I would say nothing of the matter, and apromise is a promise,' said she; 'but if I can really help her whenso serious a charge is laid against her, and when her own mouth, poordarling, is closed by illness, then I think I am absolved from mypromise. I will tell you exactly what happened upon Monday evening.
"'We were returning from the Watt Street Mission about a quarter to nineo'clock. On our way we had to pass through Hudson Street, which isa very quiet thoroughfare. There is only one lamp in it, upon theleft-hand side, and as we approached this lamp I saw a man comingtowards us with his back very bent, and something like a box slung overone of his shoulders. He appeared to be deformed, for he carried hishead low and walked with his knees bent. We were passing him when heraised his face to look at us in the circle of light thrown by the lamp,and as he did so he stopped and screamed out in a dreadful voice, "MyGod, it's Nancy!" Mrs. Barclay turned as white as death, and would havefallen down had the dreadful-looking creature not caught hold of her. Iwas going to call for the police, but she, to my surprise, spoke quitecivilly to the fellow.
"'"I thought you had been dead this thirty years, Henry," said she, in ashaking voice.
"'"So I have," said he, and it was awful to hear the tones that he saidit in. He had a very dark, fearsome face, and a gleam in his eyes thatcomes back to me in my dreams. His hair and whiskers were shot withgray, and his face was all crinkled and puckered like a withered apple.
"'"Just walk on a little way, dear," said Mrs. Barclay; "I want to havea word with this man. There is nothing to be afraid of." She tried tospeak boldly, but she was still deadly pale and could hardly get herwords out for the trembling of her lips.
"'I did as she asked me, and they talked together for a few minutes.Then she came down the street with her eyes blazing, and I saw thecrippled wretch standing by the lamp-post and shaking his clenched fistsin the air as if he were mad with rage. She never said a word until wewere at the door here, when she took me by the hand and begged me totell no one what had happened.
"'"It's an old acquaintance of mine who has come down in the world,"said she. When I promised her I would say nothing she kissed me, and Ihave never seen her since. I have told you now the whole truth, and ifI withheld it from the police it is because I did not realize then thedanger in which my dear friend stood. I know that it can only be to heradvantage that everything should be known.'
"There was her statement, Watson, and to me, as you can imagine, it waslike a light on a dark night. Everything which had been disconnectedbefore began at once to assume its true place, and I had a shadowypresentiment of the whole sequence of events. My next step obviously wasto find the man who had produced such a remarkable impression upon Mrs.Barclay. If he were still in Aldershot it should not be a very difficultmatter. There are not such a very great number of civilians, and adeformed man was sure to have attracted attention. I spent a day in thesearch, and by evening--this very evening, Watson--I had run him down.The man's name is Henry Wood, and he lives in lodgings in this samestreet in which the ladies met him. He has only been five days in theplace. In the character of a registration-agent I had a most interestinggossip with his landlady. The man is by trade a conjurer and performer,going round the c
anteens after nightfall, and giving a littleentertainment at each. He carries some creature about with him in thatbox; about which the landlady seemed to be in considerable trepidation,for she had never seen an animal like it. He uses it in some of histricks according to her account. So much the woman was able to tell me,and also that it was a wonder the man lived, seeing how twisted he was,and that he spoke in a strange tongue sometimes, and that for the lasttwo nights she had heard him groaning and weeping in his bedroom. Hewas all right, as far as money went, but in his deposit he had given herwhat looked like a bad florin. She showed it to me, Watson, and it wasan Indian rupee.
"So now, my dear fellow, you see exactly how we stand and why it is Iwant you. It is perfectly plain that after the ladies parted from thisman he followed them at a distance, that he saw the quarrel betweenhusband and wife through the window, that he rushed in, and thatthe creature which he carried in his box got loose. That is all verycertain. But he is the only person in this world who can tell us exactlywhat happened in that room."
"And you intend to ask him?"
"Most certainly--but in the presence of a witness."
"And I am the witness?"
"If you will be so good. If he can clear the matter up, well and good.If he refuses, we have no alternative but to apply for a warrant."
"But how do you know he'll be there when we return?"
"You may be sure that I took some precautions. I have one of my BakerStreet boys mounting guard over him who would stick to him like a burr,go where he might. We shall find him in Hudson Street to-morrow, Watson,and meanwhile I should be the criminal myself if I kept you out of bedany longer."
It was midday when we found ourselves at the scene of the tragedy, and,under my companion's guidance, we made our way at once to Hudson Street.In spite of his capacity for concealing his emotions, I could easily seethat Holmes was in a state of suppressed excitement, while I was myselftingling with that half-sporting, half-intellectual pleasure whichI invariably experienced when I associated myself with him in hisinvestigations.
"This is the street," said he, as we turned into a short thoroughfarelined with plain two-storied brick houses. "Ah, here is Simpson toreport."
"He's in all right, Mr. Holmes," cried a small street Arab, running upto us.
"Good, Simpson!" said Holmes, patting him on the head. "Come along,Watson. This is the house." He sent in his card with a message that hehad come on important business, and a moment later we were face to facewith the man whom we had come to see. In spite of the warm weather hewas crouching over a fire, and the little room was like an oven. Theman sat all twisted and huddled in his chair in a way which gave anindescribable impression of deformity; but the face which he turnedtowards us, though worn and swarthy, must at some time have beenremarkable for its beauty. He looked suspiciously at us now out ofyellow-shot, bilious eyes, and, without speaking or rising, he wavedtowards two chairs.
"Mr. Henry Wood, late of India, I believe," said Holmes, affably. "I'vecome over this little matter of Colonel Barclay's death."
"What should I know about that?"
"That's what I want to ascertain. You know, I suppose, that unless thematter is cleared up, Mrs. Barclay, who is an old friend of yours, willin all probability be tried for murder."
The man gave a violent start.
"I don't know who you are," he cried, "nor how you come to know what youdo know, but will you swear that this is true that you tell me?"
"Why, they are only waiting for her to come to her senses to arresther."
"My God! Are you in the police yourself?"
"No."
"What business is it of yours, then?"
"It's every man's business to see justice done."
"You can take my word that she is innocent."
"Then you are guilty."
"No, I am not."
"Who killed Colonel James Barclay, then?"
"It was a just providence that killed him. But, mind you this, that ifI had knocked his brains out, as it was in my heart to do, he would havehad no more than his due from my hands. If his own guilty conscience hadnot struck him down it is likely enough that I might have had his bloodupon my soul. You want me to tell the story. Well, I don't know why Ishouldn't, for there's no cause for me to be ashamed of it.
"It was in this way, sir. You see me now with my back like a camel andmy ribs all awry, but there was a time when Corporal Henry Wood was thesmartest man in the 117th foot. We were in India then, in cantonments,at a place we'll call Bhurtee. Barclay, who died the other day, wassergeant in the same company as myself, and the belle of the regiment,ay, and the finest girl that ever had the breath of life between herlips, was Nancy Devoy, the daughter of the color-sergeant. There weretwo men that loved her, and one that she loved, and you'll smile whenyou look at this poor thing huddled before the fire, and hear me saythat it was for my good looks that she loved me.
"Well, though I had her heart, her father was set upon her marryingBarclay. I was a harum-scarum, reckless lad, and he had had aneducation, and was already marked for the sword-belt. But the girl heldtrue to me, and it seemed that I would have had her when the Mutinybroke out, and all hell was loose in the country.
"We were shut up in Bhurtee, the regiment of us with half a battery ofartillery, a company of Sikhs, and a lot of civilians and women-folk.There were ten thousand rebels round us, and they were as keen as a setof terriers round a rat-cage. About the second week of it our water gaveout, and it was a question whether we could communicate with GeneralNeill's column, which was moving up country. It was our only chance, forwe could not hope to fight our way out with all the women and children,so I volunteered to go out and to warn General Neill of our danger. Myoffer was accepted, and I talked it over with Sergeant Barclay, who wassupposed to know the ground better than any other man, and who drew upa route by which I might get through the rebel lines. At ten o'clock thesame night I started off upon my journey. There were a thousand lives tosave, but it was of only one that I was thinking when I dropped over thewall that night.
"My way ran down a dried-up watercourse, which we hoped would screenme from the enemy's sentries; but as I crept round the corner of itI walked right into six of them, who were crouching down in the darkwaiting for me. In an instant I was stunned with a blow and bound handand foot. But the real blow was to my heart and not to my head, for asI came to and listened to as much as I could understand of their talk,I heard enough to tell me that my comrade, the very man who had arrangedthe way that I was to take, had betrayed me by means of a native servantinto the hands of the enemy.
"Well, there's no need for me to dwell on that part of it. You know nowwhat James Barclay was capable of. Bhurtee was relieved by Neill nextday, but the rebels took me away with them in their retreat, and it wasmany a long year before ever I saw a white face again. I was torturedand tried to get away, and was captured and tortured again. You can seefor yourselves the state in which I was left. Some of them that fledinto Nepaul took me with them, and then afterwards I was up pastDarjeeling. The hill-folk up there murdered the rebels who had me, andI became their slave for a time until I escaped; but instead of goingsouth I had to go north, until I found myself among the Afghans. ThereI wandered about for many a year, and at last came back to the Punjab,where I lived mostly among the natives and picked up a living by theconjuring tricks that I had learned. What use was it for me, a wretchedcripple, to go back to England or to make myself known to my oldcomrades? Even my wish for revenge would not make me do that. I hadrather that Nancy and my old pals should think of Harry Wood as havingdied with a straight back, than see him living and crawling with a sticklike a chimpanzee. They never doubted that I was dead, and I meant thatthey never should. I heard that Barclay had married Nancy, and that hewas rising rapidly in the regiment, but even that did not make me speak.
"But when one gets old one has a longing for home. For years I've beendreaming of the bright green fields and the hedges of England. At last Idetermined to see the
m before I died. I saved enough to bring me across,and then I came here where the soldiers are, for I know their ways andhow to amuse them and so earn enough to keep me."
"Your narrative is most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes. "I havealready heard of your meeting with Mrs. Barclay, and your mutualrecognition. You then, as I understand, followed her home and sawthrough the window an altercation between her husband and her, in whichshe doubtless cast his conduct to you in his teeth. Your own feelingsovercame you, and you ran across the lawn and broke in upon them."
"I did, sir, and at the sight of me he looked as I have never seen a manlook before, and over he went with his head on the fender. But he wasdead before he fell. I read death on his face as plain as I can readthat text over the fire. The bare sight of me was like a bullet throughhis guilty heart."
"And then?"
"Then Nancy fainted, and I caught up the key of the door from her hand,intending to unlock it and get help. But as I was doing it it seemed tome better to leave it alone and get away, for the thing might look blackagainst me, and any way my secret would be out if I were taken. In myhaste I thrust the key into my pocket, and dropped my stick while I waschasing Teddy, who had run up the curtain. When I got him into his box,from which he had slipped, I was off as fast as I could run."
"Who's Teddy?" asked Holmes.
The man leaned over and pulled up the front of a kind of hutch inthe corner. In an instant out there slipped a beautiful reddish-browncreature, thin and lithe, with the legs of a stoat, a long, thin nose,and a pair of the finest red eyes that ever I saw in an animal's head.
"It's a mongoose," I cried.
"Well, some call them that, and some call them ichneumon," said theman. "Snake-catcher is what I call them, and Teddy is amazing quick oncobras. I have one here without the fangs, and Teddy catches it everynight to please the folk in the canteen.
"Any other point, sir?"
"Well, we may have to apply to you again if Mrs. Barclay should prove tobe in serious trouble."
"In that case, of course, I'd come forward."
"But if not, there is no object in raking up this scandal against adead man, foully as he has acted. You have at least the satisfactionof knowing that for thirty years of his life his conscience bitterlyreproached him for this wicked deed. Ah, there goes Major Murphy on theother side of the street. Good-by, Wood. I want to learn if anything hashappened since yesterday."
We were in time to overtake the major before he reached the corner.
"Ah, Holmes," he said: "I suppose you have heard that all this fuss hascome to nothing?"
"What then?"
"The inquest is just over. The medical evidence showed conclusivelythat death was due to apoplexy. You see it was quite a simple case afterall."
"Oh, remarkably superficial," said Holmes, smiling. "Come, Watson, Idon't think we shall be wanted in Aldershot any more."
"There's one thing," said I, as we walked down to the station. "If thehusband's name was James, and the other was Henry, what was this talkabout David?"
"That one word, my dear Watson, should have told me the whole story hadI been the ideal reasoner which you are so fond of depicting. It wasevidently a term of reproach."
"Of reproach?"
"Yes; David strayed a little occasionally, you know, and on one occasionin the same direction as Sergeant James Barclay. You remember the smallaffair of Uriah and Bathsheba? My biblical knowledge is a trifle rusty,I fear, but you will find the story in the first or second of Samuel."
The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes Page 8