The New Annotated Sherlock Holmes: The Complete Short Stories: The Return of Sherlock Holmes, His Last Bow and The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes (Non-slipcased edition) (Vol. 2) (The Annotated Books)

by Doyle, Arthur Conan

  1 “The Solitary Cyclist” was published in Collier’s Weekly on December 26, 1903, and in the Strand Magazine in January 1904.

  2 Contrast this with Holmes’s remark in “The Norwood Builder” about how “uninteresting” London has become since the death of Moriarty.

  3 That the “solitary cyclist” does not refer to Miss Smith is evident from the manuscript, the greater part of which is owned by Maurice F. Neville of Santa Barbara, California. The manuscript bears the title “The Adventure of the Solitary Man,” and the phrase here reads “the facts connected with the solitary man of Charlington Common.”

  4 “Admit” in the Strand Magazine and American editions.

  5 Watson kept a series of year-books concerning Holmes’s cases (“The Veiled Lodger”), and mentions specifically his records for 1887 (“The Five Orange Pips”), for 1890 (“The Final Problem”), for 1894 (“The Golden Pince-Nez”), and for 1895 (“The Solitary Cyclist”).

  6 April 23, 1895, was a Tuesday. As may be expected, the chronologists are in some disagreement regarding the correct date of “The Solitary Cyclist.” See Chronological Table.

  7 See “Bicycling in the Time of Sherlock Holmes,” page 928.

  8 The word is “she” in various American editions, but the manuscript version of the story clearly states “he.”

  9 In “The Sad Case of Young Stamford,” Jerry Neal Williamson speculates that he was the “Archie” of “The Red-Headed League” and also the young Stamford who introduced Holmes to Watson. The manuscript of “The Solitary Cyclist” continues here: “Hughes, the poisoner, also came from there.” Apparently Watson was not then ready to reveal the facts of the Hughes case.

  10 The Imperial Theatre, part of the Royal Aquarium in Westminster, presented music hall-type entertainment or, as Baedeker reported in 1896, “[c]omedies, burlesques, and farces.” After it closed in 1899, the Imperial fell under the care of three popular actors: Lillie Langtry (“the Jersey Lily”), who had appeared there in 1882 and who reopened the theatre on April 22, 1901; Ellen Terry, who served as the Imperial’s manager in 1903, producing and starring in Ibsen’s The Vikings under the direction of her son, Edward Gordon Craig; and Lewis Waller, who from 1903 to 1906 presented a series of romantic plays there, one of the most successful of which was Brigadier Gerard in 1906, from the pen of Arthur Conan Doyle. The last play performed at the Imperial was Dix and Sutherland’s Boy O’Carrol, in 1906. The theatre was dismantled the following year; thus, in 1895, the Imperial had not yet closed. Miss Smith must have been thinking of the theatre’s incarnation prior to 1901 as the “old” Imperial Theatre, or else perhaps Watson himself made that distinction, inserting the word “old” here to clarify the difference for his readers.

  11 It is “great poverty” in the Strand Magazine and American editions.

  12 Johannesburg was founded in 1886 as the administrative centre for the goldmines that flourished in the Witwatersrand (see “The Adventure of the Dancing Men,” note 2). A true boomtown, the city swelled as prospectors arrived from all over the world to seek their fortunes; by the turn of the century, Johannesburg had 100,000 residents, with the mines worked mostly by black Africans under short-term contract. Almost inevitably, the sudden influx of humanity combined with the stimulus of greed led to an environment in which debauchery flourished; prostitution, heavy drinking, and crime-world activities linked to New York and London were a part of Johannesburg’s daily life. A journalist named Pratt, writing in 1913 to warn incoming English and Australian workers, summed up the young city’s atmosphere: “Ancient Nineveh and Babylon have been revived. . . . Johannesburg is their twentieth century prototype. It is a city of unbridled squalor and unfathomable squander.”

  13 A “grange” is a farmhouse with outbuildings.

  14 Scholars seize upon Miss Smith’s description here for clues as to the real locations of Chiltern Grange, Crooksbury Hill, Charlington Heath, and Charlington Hall. Michael Harrison, in In the Footsteps of Sherlock Holmes, declares that one district fits all of the proper distance and direction qualifications and also has a “hill” located between it and Farnham. He names the Surrey district of Charleshill and ventures, “ ‘Crooksbury Hill’ may be either Crooksbury Heath, which could be called a hill, or it may be that part of Crooksbury Common known as Monk’s Hill. I feel that the latter is more likely.” Bernard Davies, in “Three Distressed Gentlewomen,” goes on to identify Chiltern Grange as Lascombe, a house built in 1894 and situated about six miles from Farnham station and 6 1/2 miles from Godalming.

  15 Geoffrey Stavert, in “In the Wheelmarks of Violet Smith,” identifies Charlington Hall as Hampton Lodge, on the Hampton Estate.

  16 “Electrical” in the Strand Magazine and American editions. There is a company named “Midland Electrical Factors, Ltd.,” in Coventry, which may be a “descendant” of the firm.

  17 A reminder of the economics of 1895—the “going rate” for a governess was £50 per year (the modern equivalent of £3,200, or about U.S.$5,200), plus room and board. See also “The Copper Beeches,” note 8, regarding the position of governesses; Violet Hunter, the reader will recall, had been paid £4 per month in her position previous to the Rucastle household.

  18 Proper Victorian women were expected to ride bicycles while wearing ankle-length skirts, petticoats, a jacket, and a hat. This created a pretty picture but did not provide much in the way of comfort. “There were some so-called liberated women,” writes Richard Warner, “who chose to dress for comfort instead of propriety and wore those instruments of the Devil, the bifurcated attire. These could be bloomers, knickerbockers, or even, Heaven forbid, the convertible dress.” The skirt of this last outfit could be unbuttoned in the front and then re-fastened around the legs, forming a rudimentary pair of pants. The upright manner in which Violent Smith rides her bike suggests that she is, indeed, a proper woman. Warner also points out that she must have been conventionally dressed, since Watson makes no particular mention of her attire: “If she had been wearing bifurcated costume, he as a ladies’ man would have made some comment. After all, her limbs would have been revealed.”

  19 Holmes’s collegiate boxing is mentioned in “The ‘Gloria Scott.’” In “The Yellow Face,” “The Five Orange Pips,” and A Study in Scarlet, Watson comments on his prowess, and Holmes himself recounts using his skill in encounters with a street tough (“The Final Problem”) and Joseph Harrison (“The Naval Treaty”). In The Sign of Four, McMurdo, a professional boxer, compliments Holmes on his boxing talents, and Holmes reminds him that they fought against each other in a benefit match. See also “The Yellow Face,” note 4.

  20 In the sense of enthusiastic or exuberant.

  21 This is pure Victorian sexism (or Holmesian misogyny), for Watson has earlier described Miss Smith as “tall, graceful and queenly.”

  22 Also as a result of his wounded leg? Compare Watson’s statement in The Hound of the Baskervilles: “[Sir Henry and I] were both swift runners and in fairly good training . . .”

  23 Cycling as sport was becoming increasingly popular in Europe in the 1890s, with city-to-city races that lasted up to a full day and beyond. France, which had hosted the first official road race on May 31, 1868 (a 12,000-meter affair near Paris), and the first city-to-city race on November 7, 1869 (from Paris to Rouen), was the leader in this field, establishing the one-day Paris-Roubaix race in 1896 and the twenty-one-day Tour de France in 1903. Road races in Belgium, Italy, Spain, and the Netherlands were also being founded around this time. In England, however, the poor condition of the roads meant that most bicycle racing was limited to specially constructed tracks, such as the ones located at the Crystal Palace, Sydenham, or the Alexandra Palace, Muswell Hill, in greater London. Watson’s remark here suggests that he may well have attended the London races, which were held regularly on Saturday afternoons during the summer.

  24 Leather corduroy breeches.

  25 A long lawn or turf upon which lawn bowling, also known as lawn bowls, was played.
Possibly played in ancient Egypt and popularised throughout Europe in the Middle Ages, lawn bowling was banned for commoners by Henry VIII in the sixteenth century because it distracted them from the practice of archery. Yet noblemen continued to play the game, and the Scots introduced a formal code of rules in 1849. The English Bowling Association was established in 1903.

  26 The Strand Magazine and American editions strangely refer to “a” frightened groom, as if there were more than one.

  27 Holmes offers two reasons that the marriage might be invalid: the illegitimacy of Williamson’s status as a clergyman, and Violet Smith’s lack of consent to being married. Rev. Otis Rice contends that Holmes is right in one instance, but not the other. “The sacraments and sacramentals administered by a priest are valid whether he is inhibited, deposed, or not,” Rice explains. “In this respect Williamson’s flippant remark, ‘Once a clergyman, always a clergyman’ was in a sense true.” Williamson might have faced disciplinary action—from the church or the state—for conducting a ceremony after being deposed, but nonetheless the marriage itself would have stood up under scrutiny.

  Where Holmes is correct is in pointing out that Violet Smith had never intended nor wanted to marry—being gagged is a sure sign of proof—and this condition therefore renders the marriage itself invalid. Rice clarifies further: The Church of England stipulates that in a wedding, the bride and groom are actually the ministers of the ceremony, not the priest. The priest is merely a sort of witness who is present to bless and affirm the union in the eyes of the church. If either the bride or groom is unwilling to perform the marriage rites, then naturally the ceremony itself cannot be properly administered. “One wonders why Williamson did not know this,” muses Rice. “Possibly his theological education had been as fragmentary as had been his liturgical training. What informed Anglican clergyman would have believed he was ‘solemnizing a marriage’ while wearing ‘a short surplice over a light tweed suit?’ ”

  It is doubtful that performance of a forced marriage is a “very serious felony”; however, Williamson’s complicity in the matter made him equally guilty of the “abduction” and “assault” committed by Woodley, and Holmes’s remark here should be taken to refer to Williamson’s overall conduct.

  28 Kimberley was founded in 1871 after an intensely rich diamond mine was found at that site in 1870. South Africa, previously an agricultural nation, was transformed by the discovery of diamonds (and later, in the Witwatersrand, of gold). When individual digging gave way to organised mining, not only was the South African economy rerouted toward one of industrialisation, but the workforce also began to skew along racial lines, with black African migrant workers performing most of the manual labour and whites assuming supervisory and skilled-labour positions. In 1888, Kimberley’s diamond fields were taken over by De Beers Consolidated Mines, under the control of Cecil Rhodes. As prime minister of Cape Colony (of which Kimberley was a part) and an Uitlander sympathiser, Rhodes would lead an unsuccessful attempt to overthrow Paul Kruger’s Transvaal government in 1895. (See “The Adventure of the Dancing Men,” note 2. For a detailed discussion of the upheavals in South Africa, see “The Blanched Soldier.”) Rhodes’s legacy upon his death in 1902 made possible the Rhodes Scholarships to Oxford.

  29 Some editions have “outcast padre.”

  30 What is Holmes driving at here? Is he suggesting that Miss Smith planned to keep the matter a secret from Mr. Morton, but that he, Holmes, would reveal it? This seems unlikely in light of the forthcoming trials. Perhaps he is suggesting that Miss Smith would not want her fiancé to see her so dishevelled.

  THE ADVENTURE OF THE PRIORY SCHOOL1

  “The Priory School” begins comically enough, with the preposterous figure of Thorneycroft Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D., etc., lying prostrate on the bearskin rug at 221 Baker Street. The case soon darkens, however, when Holmes learns that he must save a kidnapped boy from great danger. Even Holmes is surprised by the revelation of the kidnapper. Scholars argue over the true identity of the “Duke of Holdernesse,” Watson’s pseudonym for the boy’s father, and Holmes’s bold deductions from bicycle tracks (and his acceptance of an enormous fee) are questioned by many.

  WE HAVE HAD some dramatic entrances and exits upon our small stage at Baker Street, but I cannot recollect anything more sudden and startling than the first appearance of Dr. Thorneycroft Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D., etc. His card, which seemed too small to carry the weight of his academic distinctions, preceded him by a few seconds, and then he entered himself—so large, so pompous, and so dignified that he was the very embodiment of self-possession and solidity. And yet his first action, when the door had closed behind him, was to stagger against the table, whence he slipped down upon the floor, and there was that majestic figure prostrate and insensible upon our bearskin hearthrug.

  We had sprung to our feet, and for a few moments we stared in silent amazement at this ponderous piece of wreckage, which told of some sudden and fatal storm far out on the ocean of life. Then Holmes hurried with a cushion for his head, and I with brandy for his lips. The heavy white face was seamed with lines of trouble, the hanging pouches under the closed eyes were leaden in colour, the loose mouth drooped dolorously at the corners, the rolling chins were unshaven. Collar and shirt bore the grime of a long journey, and the hair bristled unkempt from the well-shaped head. It was a sorely stricken man who lay before us.

  Frederick Dorr Steele, Collier’s, 1904

  “What is it, Watson?” asked Holmes.

  “Absolute exhaustion—possibly mere hunger and fatigue,” said I, with my finger on the thready pulse, where the stream of life trickled thin and small.

  “Return ticket from Mackleton, in the North of England,”2 said Holmes, drawing it from the watch-pocket. “It is not twelve o’clock yet. He has certainly been an early starter.”

  The puckered eyelids had begun to quiver, and now a pair of vacant grey eyes looked up at us. An instant later the man had scrambled on to his feet, his face crimson with shame.

  “Forgive this weakness, Mr. Holmes; I have been a little overwrought. Thank you, if I might have a glass of milk and a biscuit I have no doubt that I should be better. I came personally, Mr. Holmes, in order to insure that you would return with me. I feared that no telegram would convince you of the absolute urgency of the case.”

  “The heavy white face was seamed with lines of trouble.”

  Sidney Paget, Strand Magazine, 1904

  “When you are quite restored—”

  “I am quite well again. I cannot imagine how I came to be so weak. I wish you, Mr. Holmes, to come to Mackleton with me by the next train.”

  My friend shook his head.

  “My colleague, Dr. Watson, could tell you that we are very busy at present. I am retained in this case of the Ferrers Documents, and the Abergavenny murder is coming up for trial. Only a very important issue could call me from London at present.”

  “Important!” Our visitor threw up his hands. “Have you heard nothing of the abduction of the only son of the Duke of Holdernesse?”3

  “What! the late Cabinet Minister?”4

  “Exactly. We had tried to keep it out of the papers, but there was some rumour in the Globe last night. I thought it might have reached your ears.”

  Holmes shot out his long, thin arm and picked out Volume “H” in his encyclopaedia of reference.

  “ ‘Holdernesse, Sixth Duke, K.G.,5 P.C.6’—half the alphabet! ‘Baron Beverley, Earl of Carston’—dear me, what a list! ‘Lord Lieutenant7 of Hallamshire,8 since 1900. Married Edith, daughter of Sir Charles Appledore,9 1888. Heir and only child, Lord Saltire. Owns about two hundred and fifty thousand acres. Minerals in Lancashire and Wales. Address: Carlton House Terrace; Holdernesse Hall, Hallamshire; Carston Castle, Bangor, Wales. Lord of the Admiralty, 1872; Chief Secretary of State for—’10 Well, well, this man is certainly one of the greatest subjects of the Crown!”11

  “The greatest and perhaps the wealthiest. I am aware, Mr. Holmes, that you
take a very high line in professional matters, and that you are prepared to work for the work’s sake. I may tell you, however, that his Grace has already intimated that a cheque for five thousand pounds12 will be handed over to the person who can tell him where his son is and another thousand to him who can name the man, or men, who have taken him.”

  “I can not imagine how I came to be so weak.”

  Frederick Dorr Steele, Collier’s, 1904

  “It is a princely offer,” said Holmes.13 “Watson, I think that we shall accompany Dr. Huxtable back to the North of England. And now, Dr. Huxtable, when you have consumed that milk you will kindly tell me what has happened, when it happened, how it happened, and, finally, what Dr. Thorneycroft Huxtable, of the Priory School, near Mackleton, has to do with the matter, and why he comes three days after an event—the state of your chin gives the date—to ask for my humble services.”

  Our visitor had consumed his milk and biscuits. The light had come back to his eyes and the colour to his cheeks as he set himself with great vigour and lucidity to explain the situation.

  “I must inform you, gentlemen, that the Priory is a preparatory school, of which I am the founder and principal. Huxtable’s Sidelights on Horace may possibly recall my name to your memories. The Priory is, without exception, the best and most select preparatory school in England.14 Lord Leverstoke, the Earl of Blackwater, Sir Cathcart Soames—they all have intrusted their sons to me. But I felt that my school had reached its zenith when, three weeks ago, the Duke of Holdernesse sent Mr. James Wilder, his secretary, with the intimation that young Lord Saltire, ten years old, his only son and heir, was about to be committed to my charge. Little did I think that this would be the prelude to the most crushing misfortune of my life.