‘I confess that I can’t explain it.’
‘Then, again, if a woman and her lover conspire to murder a husband, are they going to advertise their guilt by ostentatiously removing his wedding-ring after his death? Does that strike you as very probable, Watson?’
‘No, it does not.’
‘And once again, if the thought of leaving a bicycle concealed outside had occurred to you, would it really have seemed worth doing when the dullest detective would naturally say this is an obvious blind, as the bicycle is the first thing which the fugitive needed in order to make his escape?’
‘I can conceive of no explanation.’
‘And yet there should be no combination of events for which the wit of man cannot conceive an explanation. Simply as a mental exercise, without any assertion that it is true, let me indicate a possible line of thought. It is, I admit, mere imagination, but how often is imagination the mother of truth?
‘We will suppose that there was a guilty secret, a really shameful secret, in the life of this man Douglas. This leads to his murder by someone who is, we will suppose, an avenger – someone from outside. This avenger, for some reason which I confess I am still at a loss to explain, took the dead man’s wedding-ring. The vendetta might conceivably date back to the man’s first marriage and the ring be taken for some such reason. Before this avenger got away Barker and the wife had reached the room. The assassin convinced them that any attempt to arrest him would lead to the publication of some hideous scandal. They were converted to this idea and preferred to let him go. For this purpose they probably lowered the bridge, which can be done quite noiselessly, and then raised it again. He made his escape, and for some reason thought that he could do so more safely on foot than on the bicycle. He therefore left his machine where it would not be discovered until he had got safely away. So far we are within the bounds of possibility, are we not?’
‘Well, it is possible, no doubt,’ said I, with some reserve.
‘We have to remember, Watson, that whatever occurred is certainly something very extraordinary. Well now, to continue our suppositious case, the couple – not necessarily a guilty couple – realize after the murderer is gone that they have placed themselves in a position in which it may be difficult for them to prove that they did not themselves either do the deed or connive at it. They rapidly and rather clumsily meet the situation. The mark was put by Barker’s bloodstained slipper upon the window-sill to suggest how the fugitive got away. They obviously were the two who must have heard the sound of the gun, so they gave the alarm exactly as they would have done, but a good half-hour after the event.’
‘And how do you propose to prove all this?’
‘Well, if there were an outsider he may be traced and taken. That would be the most effective of all proofs. But if not – well, the resources of science are far from being exhausted. I think that an evening alone in that study would help me much.’
‘An evening alone!’
‘I propose to go up there presently. I have arranged it with the estimable Ames, who is by no means wholehearted about Barker. I shall sit in that room and see if its atmosphere brings me inspiration. I’m a believer in the genius loci. You smile, friend Watson. Well, we shall see. By the way, you have that big umbrella of yours, have you not?’
‘It is here.’
‘Well, I’ll borrow that, if I may.’
‘Certainly, but what a wretched weapon! If there is danger –’
‘Nothing serious, my dear Watson, or I should certainly ask for your assistance. But I’ll take the umbrella. At present I am only awaiting the return of our colleagues from Tunbridge Wells, where they are at present engaged in trying for a likely owner to the bicycle.’
It was nightfall before Inspector MacDonald and White Mason came back from their expedition, and they arrived exultant, reporting a great advance in our investigation.
‘Man, I’ll admeet that I had my doubts if there was ever an outsider,’ said MacDonald, ‘but that’s all past now. We’ve had the bicycle identified, and we have a description of our man, so that’s a long step on our journey.’
‘It sounds to me like the beginning of the end,’ said Holmes; ‘I’m sure I congratulate you both with all my heart.’
‘Well, I started from the fact that Mr Douglas had seemed disturbed since the day before, when he had been at Tunbridge Wells. It was at Tunbridge Wells, then, that he had become conscious of some danger. It was clear, therefore, that if a man had come over with a bicycle it was from Tunbridge Wells that he might be expected to have come. We took the bicycle over with us and showed it at the hotels. It was identified at once by the manager of the Eagle Commercial as belonging to a man named Hargrave who had taken a room there two days before. This bicycle and a small valise were his whole belongings. He had registered his name as coming from London, but had given no address. The valise was London-made and the contents were British, but the man himself was undoubtedly an American.’
‘Well, well,’ said Holmes, gleefully, ‘you have indeed done some solid work while I have been sitting spinning theories with my friend. It’s a lesson in being practical, Mr Mac.’
‘Aye, it’s just that, Mr Holmes,’ said the inspector with satisfaction.
‘But this may all fit in with your theories,’ I remarked.
‘That may or may not be. But let us hear the end, Mr Mac. Was there nothing to identify this man?’
‘So little that it was evident he had carefully guarded himself against identification. There were no papers or letters and no marking upon the clothes. A cycle-map of the county lay upon his bedroom table. He had left the hotel after breakfast yesterday morning upon his bicycle, and no more was heard of him until our inquiries.’
‘That’s what puzzles me, Mr Holmes,’ said White Mason. ‘If the fellow did not want the hue and cry raised over him, one would imagine that he would have returned and remained at the hotel as an inoffensive tourist. As it is, he must know that he will be reported to the police by the hotel manager, and that his disappearance will be connected with the murder.’
‘So one would imagine. Still he has been justified of his wisdom up to date at any rate, since he has not been taken. But his description – what of that?’
MacDonald referred to his notebook.
‘Here we have it so far as they could give it. They don’t seem to have taken any very particular stock of him, but still the porter, the clerk, and the chambermaid are all agreed that this about covers the points. He was a man about five foot nine in height, fifty or so years of age, his hair slightly grizzled, a greyish moustache, a curved nose and a face which all of them described as fierce and forbidding.’
‘Well, bar the expression, that might almost be a description of Douglas himself,’ said Holmes. ‘He is just over fifty, with grizzled hair and moustache and about the same height. Did you get anything else?’
‘He was dressed in a heavy grey suit with a reefer jacket, and he wore a short yellow overcoat and a soft cap.’
‘What about the shot-gun?’
‘It is less than two feet long. It could very well have fitted into his valise. He could have carried it inside his overcoat without difficulty.’
‘And how do you consider that all this bears upon the general case?’
‘Well, Mr Holmes,’ said MacDonald, ‘when we have got our man – and you may be sure that I had his description on the wires within five minutes of hearing it – we shall be able to judge. But even as it stands, we have surely gone a long way. We know that an American calling himself Hargrave came to Tunbridge Wells two days ago with bicycle and valise. In the latter was a sawn-off shot-gun, so he came with the deliberate purpose of crime. Yesterday morning he set off for this place upon his bicycle with his gun concealed in his overcoat. No one saw him arrive, so far as we can learn, but he need not pass through the village to reach the park gates, and th
ere are many cyclists upon the road. Presumably he at once concealed his cycle among the laurels, where it was found, and possibly lurked there himself, with his eye on the house waiting for Mr Douglas to come out. The shot-gun is a strange weapon to use inside a house, but he had intended to use it outside, and then it has very obvious advantages, as it would be impossible to miss with it, and the sound of shots is so common in an English sporting neighbourhood that no particular notice would be taken.’
‘That is all very clear!’ said Holmes.
‘Well, Mr Douglas did not appear. What was he to do next? He left his bicycle and approached the house in the twilight. He found the bridge down and no one about. He took his chance, intending, no doubt, to make some excuse if he met anyone. He met no one. He slipped into the first room that he saw and concealed himself behind the curtain. From thence he could see the drawbridge go up and he knew that his only escape was through the moat. He waited until a quarter past eleven, when Mr Douglas, upon his usual nightly round, came into the room. He shot him and escaped, as arranged. He was aware that the bicycle would be described by the hotel people and be a clue against him, so he left it there and made his way by some other means to London or to some safe hiding-place which he had already arranged. How is that, Mr Holmes.’
‘Well, Mr Mac, it is very good and very clear so far as it goes. That is your end of the story. My end is that the crime was committed half an hour earlier than reported; that Mrs Douglas and Mr Barker are both in a conspiracy to conceal something; that they aided the murderer’s escape – or at least, that they reached the room before he escaped – and that they fabricated evidence of his escape through the window, whereas in all probability they had themselves let him go by lowering the bridge. That’s my reading of the first half.’
The two detectives shook their heads.
‘Well, Mr Holmes, if this is true we only tumble out of one mystery into another,’ said the London inspector.
‘And in some ways a worse one,’ added White Mason. ‘The lady has never been in America in her life. What possible connection could she have with an American assassin which would cause her to shelter him?’
‘I freely admit the difficulties,’ said Holmes. ‘I propose to make a little investigation of my own tonight, and it is just possible that it may contribute something to the common cause.’
‘Can we help you, Mr Holmes?’
‘No, no! Darkness and Dr Watson’s umbrella. My wants are simple. And Ames – the faithful Ames – no doubt he will stretch a point for me. All my lines of thought lead me back invariably to the one basic question – why should an athletic man develop his frame upon so unnatural an instrument as a single dumb-bell?’
• • •
It was late that night when Holmes returned from his solitary excursion. We slept in a double-bedded room, which was the best that the little country inn could do for us. I was already asleep when I was partly awakened by his entrance.
‘Well, Holmes,’ I murmured, ‘have you found out anything?’
He stood beside me in silence, his candle in his hand. Then the tall lean figure inclined towards me.
‘I say, Watson,’ he whispered, ‘would you be afraid to sleep in the same room as a lunatic, a man with softening of the brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?’
‘Not in the least,’ I answered in astonishment.
‘Ah, that’s lucky,’ he said, and not another word would he utter that night.
7
The Solution
Next morning, after breakfast, we found Inspector MacDonald and Mr White Mason seated in close consultation in the small parlour of the local police-sergeant. Upon the table in front of them were piled a number of letters and telegrams, which they were carefully sorting and docketing. Three had been placed upon one side.
‘Still on the track of the elusive bicyclist?’ Holmes asked, cheerfully. ‘What is the latest news of the ruffian?’
MacDonald pointed ruefully to his heap of correspondence.
‘He is at present reported from Leicester, Nottingham, South-ampton, Derby, East Ham, Richmond, and fourteen other places. In three of them – East Ham, Leicester, and Liverpool – there is a clear case against him and he has actually been arrested. The country seems to be full of fugitives with yellow coats.’
‘Dear me!’ said Holmes, sympathetically. ‘Now, Mr Mac, and you, Mr White Mason, I wish to give you a very earnest piece of advice. When I went into this case with you I bargained, as you will no doubt remember, that I should not present you with half-proved theories, but that I should retain and work out my own ideas until I had satisfied myself that they were correct. For this reason I am not at the present moment telling you all that is in my mind. On the other hand, I said that I would play the game fairly by you, and I do not think it is a fair game to allow you for one unnecessary moment to waste your energies upon a profitless task. Therefore I am here to advise you this morning, and my advice to you is summed up in three words: Abandon the case.’
MacDonald and White Mason stared in amazement at their celebrated colleague.
‘You consider it hopeless?’ cried the inspector.
‘I consider your case to be hopeless. I do not consider that it is hopeless to arrive at the truth.’
‘But this cyclist. He is not an invention. We have his description, his valise, his bicycle. The fellow must be somewhere. Why should we not get him?’
‘Yes, yes; no doubt he is somewhere, and no doubt we shall get him, but I would not have you waste your energies in East Ham or Liverpool. I am sure that we can find some shorter cut to a result.’
‘You are holding something back. It’s hardly fair of you, Mr Holmes.’ The inspector was annoyed.
‘You know my methods of work, Mr Mac. But I will hold it back for the shortest time possible. I only wish to verify my details in one way, which can very readily be done, and then I make my bow and return to London, leaving my results entirely at your service. I owe you too much to act otherwise, for in all my experience I cannot recall any more singular and interesting study.’
‘This is clean beyond me, Mr Holmes. We saw you when we returned from Tunbridge Wells last night, and you were in general agreement with our results. What has happened since then to give you a completely new idea of the case?’
‘Well, since you ask me, I spent as I told you that I would, some hours last night at the Manor House.’
‘Well, what happened?’
‘Ah! I can only give you a very general answer to that for the moment. By the way, I have been reading a short, but clear and interesting, account of the old building, purchasable at the modest sum of one penny from the local tobacconist.’ Here Holmes drew a small tract, embellished with a rude engraving of the ancient Manor House, from his waistcoat pocket. ‘It immensely adds to the zest of an investigation, my dear Mr Mac, when one is in conscious sympathy with the historical atmosphere of one’s surroundings. Don’t look so impatient, for I assure you that even so bald an account as this raises some sort of picture of the past in one’s mind. Permit me to give you a sample. “Erected in the fifth year of the reign of James I, and standing upon the site of a much older building, the Manor House of Birlstone presents one of the finest surviving examples of the moated Jacobean residence –”’
‘You are making fools of us, Mr Holmes.’
‘Tut, tut, Mr Mac! – the first sign of temper I have detected in you. Well, I won’t read it verbatim, since you feel so strongly upon the subject. But when I tell you that there is some account of the taking of the place by a Parliamentary colonel in 1644, of the concealment of Charles for several days in the course of the Civil War, and finally of a visit there by the second George, you will admit that there are various associations of interest connected with this ancient house.’
‘I don’t doubt it, Mr Holmes, but that is no business of ours.’
‘Is it not? Is it not? Breadth of view, my dear Mr Mac, is one of the essentials of our profession. The interplay of ideas and the oblique uses of knowledge are often of extraordinary interest. You will excuse these remarks from one who, though a mere connoisseur of crime, is still rather older and perhaps more experienced than yourself.’
‘I’m the first to admit that,’ said the detective, heartily. ‘You get to your point, I admit, but you have such a deuced round-the-corner way of doing it.’
‘Well, well, I’ll drop past history and get down to present-day facts. I called last night, as I have already said, at the Manor House. I did not see either Mr Barker or Mrs Douglas. I saw no necessity to disturb them, but I was pleased to hear that the lady was not visibly pining and that she had partaken of an excellent dinner. My visit was specially made to the good Mr Ames, with whom I exchanged some amiabilities which culminated in his allowing me, without reference to anyone else, to sit alone for a time in the study.’
‘What! With that!’ I ejaculated.
‘No, no; everything is now in order. You gave permission for that, Mr Mac, as I am informed. The room was in its normal state, and in it I passed an instructive quarter of an hour.’
‘What were you doing?’
‘Well, not to make a mystery of so simple a matter, I was looking for the missing dumb-bell. It has always bulked rather large in my estimate of the case. I ended by finding it.’
‘Where?’
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