Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes THE CROOKED MAN

ONE summer night, a few months after my marriage, I was seated by myown hearth smoking a last pipe and nodding over a novel, for my day'swork had been an exhausting one. My wife had already gone upstairs, andthe sound 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 be avisitor at so late an hour. A patient evidently, and possibly an all-nightsitting. With a wry face I went out into the hall and opened the door. Tomy astonishment it was Sherlock Holmes who stood upon my step."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 you havebeen accustomed to wear a uniform, Watson. You'll never pass as a purebred civilian as long as you keep that habit of carrying your handkerchiefin 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, Ihope?""No, the gas.""Ah! He has left two nail-marks from his boot upon your linoleum justwhere 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 andsmoked for some time in silence. I was well aware that nothing butbusiness of importance [412] would have brought him to me at such anhour, 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 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," saidhe. "When your round is a short one you walk, and when it is a long oneyou use a hansom. As I perceive that your boots, although used, are by nomeans dirty, I cannot doubt that you are at present busy enough to justifythe hansom.""Excellent!" I cried."Elementary," said he. "It is one of those instances where the reasonercan produce an effect which seems remarkable to his neighbour, 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 of some of these little sketches of yours, which is entirely meretricious, dependingas it does upon your retaining in your own hands some factors in theproblem which are never imparted to the reader. Now, at present I am inthe position of these same readers, for I hold in this hand several threadsof one of the strangest cases which ever perplexed a man's brain, and yetI lack the one or two which are needful to complete my theory. But I'llhave them, Watson, I'll have them!" His eyes kindled and a slight flushsprang into his thin cheeks. For an instant the veil had lifted upon hiskeen, intense nature, but for an instant only. When I glanced again hisface had resumed that red-Indian composure which had made so manyregard 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, andhave 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 have readsome account of the matter. It is the supposed murder of Colonel Barclay,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 are onlytwo 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, agallant veteran, who started as [413] a full private, was raised tocommissioned rank for his bravery at the time of the Mutiny, and so livedto 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 daughterof a former colour-sergeant in the same corps. There was, therefore, ascan be 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 the regimentas her husband was with his brother officers. I may add that she was awoman of great beauty, and that even now, when she has been married forupward of thirty years, she is still of a striking and queenly appearance."Colonel Barclay's family life appears to have been a uniformly happy one. 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 his wife's toBarclay. He was acutely uneasy if he were absent from her for a day. She,on the other hand, though devoted and faithful, was less obtrusivelyaffectionate. But they were regarded in the regiment as the very model ofa middle-aged couple. There was absolutely nothing in their mutualrelations to prepare people for the tragedy which was to follow."Colonel Barclay himself seems to have had some singular traits in hischaracter. He was a dashing, jovial old soldier in his usual mood, butthere were occasions on which he seemed to show himself capable ofconsiderable 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 depression whichcame upon him at times. As the major expressed it, the smile has oftenbeen struck from his mouth, as if by some invisible hand, when he hasbeen joining in the gaieties and chaff of the mess-table. For days on end,when the mood was on him, he has been sunk in the deepest gloom. Thisand a certain tinge of superstition were the only unusual traits in hischaracter which his brother officers had observed. The latter peculiaritytook the form of a dislike to being left alone, especially after dark. Thispuerile feature in a nature which was conspicuously manly had oftengiven rise to comment and conjecture."The first battalion of the Royal Munsters (which is the old OneHundred and Seventeenth) has been stationed at Aldershot for someyears. The married officers live out of barracks, and the colonel hasduring all this time occupied a villa called 'Lachine,' about half a milefrom the north camp. The house stands in its own grounds, but the westside of it is not more than thirty yards from the highroad. A coachman andtwo maids form the staff of servants. These with their master and mistresswere the sole occupants of Lachine, for the Barclays had no children, norwas it usual for 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 CatholicChurch and had interested herself very much in the establishment of theGuild of St. George, which was formed in connection with the Watt StreetChapel for the purpose of supplying the poor with cast-off clothing. Ameeting of the Guild had been held that evening at eight, and Mrs.Barclay had hurried over her dinner in order to [414] be present at it.When leaving the house she was heard by the coachman to make somecommonplace remark to her husband, and to assure him that she would beback before very long. She then called for Miss Morrison, a young ladywho lives in the next villa, and the two went off together to their meeting.It lasted 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. Thisfaces the road and opens by a large glass folding-door on to the lawn. The lawn is thirty yards across and is only divided from the highway by a lowwall with an iron rail above it. It was into this room that Mrs. Barclaywent upon her return. The blinds were not down, for the room was seldomused in the evening, but Mrs. Barclay herself lit the lamp and then rangthe bell, asking Jane Stewart, the housemaid, to bring her a cup of tea,which was quite contrary to her usual habits. The colonel had been sittingin the dining-room, but, hearing that his wife had returned, he joined herin the morning-room. The coachman saw him cross the 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 to hearthe voices of her master and mistress in furious altercation. She knockedwithout receiving any answer, and even turned the handle, but only tofind that the door was locked upon the inside. Naturally enough she randown to tell the cook, and the two women with the coachman came upinto the hall and listened to the dispute which was still raging. They allagreed that only two voices were to be heard, those of Barclay and of hiswife. Barclay's remarks were subdued and abrupt so that none of themwere audible to the listeners. The lady's, on the other hand, were mostbitter, and when she raised her voice could be plainly heard. 'Youcoward!' 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!' Thosewere scraps of her conversation, ending in a sudden dreadful cry in theman's voice, with a crash, and a piercing scream from the woman.Convinced that some tragedy had occurred, the coachman rushed to thedoor and strove to force it, while scream after scream issued from within.He was unable, however, to make his way in, and the maids were toodistracted with fear to be of any assistance to him. A sudden thoughtstruck him, however, and he ran through the hall door and round to thelawn upon which the long French windows open. One side of the windowwas open, which I understand was quite usual in the summertime, and hepassed without difficulty into the room. His mistress had ceased to screamand was stretched insensible upon a couch, while with his feet tilted overthe side of an armchair, and his head upon the ground near the corner ofthe fender, was lying the unfortunate soldier stone dead in a pool of hisown 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 side ofthe door, nor could he find it anywhere in the room. He went out again,therefore, through the window, and, having obtained the help of apoliceman and of a medical man, he returned. The lady, against whomnaturally the strongest suspicion rested, was removed to her room, still ina state of insensibility. The colonel's body was then placed upon the sofaand a careful examination made of the scene of the tragedy.[415] "The injury from which the unfortunate veteran was suffering wasfound to be a jagged cut some two inches long at the back part of hishead, which had evidently been caused by a violent blow from a bluntweapon. Nor was it difficult to guess what that weapon may have been.Upon the floor, close to the body, was lying a singular club of hard carvedwood with a bone handle. The colonel possessed a varied collection ofweapons brought from the different countries in which he had fought, andit is conjectured by the police that this 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. Nothing elseof importance was discovered in the room by the police, save theinexplicable fact that neither upon Mrs. Barclay's person nor upon that ofthe victim nor in any part of the room was the missing key to be found.The door had eventually to be opened by a locksmith from Aldershot."That was the state of things, Watson, when upon the Tuesday morningI, at the request of Major Murphy, went down to Aldershot to supplement the 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 sunk solow that she could hardly hear anything, and judged by their tones ratherthan their words that they had fallen out. On my pressing her, however,she remembered that she heard the word David uttered twice by the lady.The point is of the utmost importance as guiding us towards the reason ofthe sudden quarrel. The colonel's name, you remember, was James."There was one thing in the case which had made the deepestimpression both upon the servants and the police. This was the contortionof the colonel'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 sight ofhim, so terrible was the effect. It was quite certain that he had foreseen hisfate, and that it had caused him the utmost horror. This, of course, fittedin well enough with the police theory, if the colonel could have seen hiswife making a murderous attack upon him. Nor was the fact of the woundbeing on the back of his head a fatal objection to this, as he might haveturned to avoid the blow. No information could be got from the ladyherself, who was temporarily insane from an acute attack of brain-fever."From the police I learned that Miss Morrison, who you rememberwent out that evening with Mrs. Barclay, denied having any knowledge ofwhat it was which had caused the ill-humour in which her companion hadreturned."Having gathered these facts, Watson, I smoked several pipes overthem, 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 colonel nor thecolonel's wife could have taken it. That was perfectly clear. Therefore athird person must have entered the room. And that third person [416] couldonly have come in through the window. It seemed to me that a carefulexamination of the room and the lawn might possibly reveal some tracesof this mysterious individual. You know my methods, Watson. There wasnot one of them which I did not apply to the inquiry. And it ended by mydiscovering traces, but very different ones from those which I hadexpected. There had been a man in the room, and he had crossed the lawncoming from the road. I was able to obtain five very clear impressions ofhis footmarks: one in the roadway itself, at the point where he hadclimbed the low wall, two on the lawn, and two very faint ones upon thestained boards near the window where he had entered. He had apparently rushed across the lawn, for his toe-marks were much deeper than hisheels. But it was not the man who surprised me. It was his 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.The paper was covered with the tracings of the footmarks of somesmall animal. It had five well-marked footpads, an indication of longnails, 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 are fourprints where the beast has been standing motionless. You see that it is noless than fifteen inches from fore-foot to hind. Add to that the length ofneck and head, and you get a creature not much less than two feetlong-probably more if there is any tail. But now observe this othermeasurement. The animal has been moving, and we have the length of itsstride. In each case it is only about three inches. You have an indication,you see, of a long body with very short legs attached to it. It has not beenconsiderate enough to leave any of its hair behind it. But its general shapemust be what I have indicated, and it can run up a curtain, and it iscarnivorous.""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 [417] 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 he left.""Your discoveries seem to have left the business more obscure than itwas before," said I."Quite so. They undoubtedly showed that the affair was much deeperthan was at first conjectured. I thought the matter over, and I came to theconclusion that I must approach the case from another aspect. But really,Watson, I am keeping you up, and I might just as well tell you all 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 the roomin which she was least likely to see her husband, had flown to tea as anagitated woman will, and finally, on his coming in to her, had broken intoviolent recriminations. Therefore something had occurred between seventhirty and nine o'clock which had completely altered her feelings towardshim. But Miss Morrison had been with her during the whole of that hourand a half. It was absolutely certain, therefore, in spite of her denial, thatshe 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, and alsofor the girl's denial that anything had occurred. Nor would it be entirelyincompatible 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 intrusion of thisother man, which might, of course, be entirely disconnected with whathad gone before. It was not easy to pick one's steps, but, on the whole, Iwas inclined to dismiss the idea that there had been anything between thecolonel and Miss Morrison, but more than ever convinced that the younglady held the clue as to what it was which had turned Mrs. Barclay tohatred of her husband. I took the obvious course, therefore, of callingupon Miss M., of explaining to her that I was perfectly certain that sheheld the facts in her possession, and of assuring her that her friend, Mrs.Barclay, might find herself in the dock upon a capital charge unless thematter were cleared up."Miss Morrison is a little ethereal slip of a girl, with timid eyes andblond 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 when soserious a charge is laid against her, and when her own mouth, poordarling, is closed by illness, then I think I am absolved from my promise.I will tell you exactly what happened upon Monday evening." 'We were returning from the Watt Street Mission about a quarter tonine o'clock. On our way we had to pass through Hudson Street, which isa very quiet thoroughfare. There is only one lamp in it, upon the left-handside, and as we approached this lamp I saw a man coming towards us withhis back very bent, [418] and something like a box slung over one of hisshoulders. He appeared to be deformed, for he carried his head low andwalked with his knees bent. We were passing him when he raised his faceto 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, "My God, it's Nancy!"Mrs. Barclay turned as white as death and would have fallen down hadthe dreadful-looking creature not caught hold of her. I was going to callfor the police, but she, to my surprise, spoke quite civilly 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 said itin. He had a very dark, fearsome face, and a gleam in his eyes that comesback to me in my dreams. His hair and whiskers were shot with gray, andhis 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 to speakboldly, but she was still deadly pale and could hardly get her words outfor 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 if Iwithheld it from the police it is because I did not realize then the dangerin which my dear friend stood. I know that it can only be to her advantagethat everything should be known.'"There was her statement, Watson, and to me, as you can imagine, it was like 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 obviouslywas to find the man who had produced such a remarkable impressionupon Mrs. Barclay. If he were still in Aldershot it should not be a verydifficult matter. 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 canteens after nightfall, and giving a little entertainmentat each. He carries some creature about with him in that box, about whichthe landlady seemed to be in considerable trepidation, for she had neverseen an animal like it. He uses it in some of his tricks according to heraccount. So much the woman was able to tell me, and also that it was awonder the man lived, seeing how twisted he was, and that he spoke in astrange tongue sometimes, and that for the last two nights she had heardhim groaning and weeping in his bedroom. He was all right, as far asmoney went, but in his deposit he had given her what looked like a badflorin. She showed it to me, Watson, and it was an Indian rupee."So now, my dear fellow, you see exactly how we stand and why it is Iwant [419] 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 that thecreature which he carried in his box got loose. That is all very certain. Buthe is the only person in this world who can tell us exactly what happenedin 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. Ifhe 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 outof bed any 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 toHudson Street. In spite of his capacity for concealing his emotions, Icould easily see that Holmes was in a state of suppressed excitement,while I was myself tingling with that half-sporting, half-intellectualpleasure which I invariably experienced when I associated myself withhim in his investigations."This is the street," said he as we turned into a short thoroughfare linedwith plain two-storied brick houses. "Ah, here is Simpson to report." "He's in all right, Mr. Holmes," cried a small street Arab, running up tous."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 he hadcome 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. The mansat 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 of yellowshot, bilious eyes, and, without speaking or rising, he waved towards twochairs."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, will inall 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 knowwhat you do 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 arrest her.""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."[420] "No, I am not.""Who killed Colonel James Barclay, then?""It was a just Providence that killed him. But, mind you this, that if Ihad 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 consciencehad not struck him down it is likely enough that I might have had hisblood upon my soul. You want me to tell the story. Well, I don't knowwhy I shouldn'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 wasthe smartest man in the One Hundred and Seventeenth foot. We were inIndia, then, in cantonments, at a place we'll call Bhurtee. Barclay, whodied the other day, was sergeant in the same company as myself, and thebelle of the regiment, ay, and the finest girl that ever had the breath of lifebetween her lips, was Nancy Devoy, the daughter of the colour-sergeant.There were two men that loved her, and one that she loved, and you'llsmile when you look at this poor thing huddled before the fire and hearme say that 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 an educationand was already marked for the sword-belt. But the girl held true to me,and it seemed that I would have had her when the Mutiny broke out, andall 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,for we could not hope to fight our way out with all the women andchildren, so I volunteered to go out and to warn General Neill of ourdanger. My offer was accepted, and I talked it over with SergeantBarclay, who was supposed to know the ground better than any otherman, and who drew up a route by which I might get through the rebellines. At ten o'clock the same night I started off upon my journey. Therewere a thousand lives to save, but it was of only one that I was thinkingwhen I dropped over the wall that night."My way ran down a dried-up watercourse, which we hoped wouldscreen me from the enemy's sentries; but as I crept round the corner of it Iwalked 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 as Icame to and listened to as much as I could understand of their talk, Iheard enough to tell me that my comrade, the very man who had arrangedthe way I was to take, had betrayed me by means of a native servant intothe 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 tortured andtried to get away, and was captured and tortured again. You can see foryourselves the state in which I was left. Some of them that fled into Nepaltook me with them, and then afterwards I was up past Darjeeling. The hillfolk up there murdered the rebels who had me, and I [421] became theirslave for a time until I escaped; but instead of going south I had to gonorth, until I found myself among the Afghans. There I wandered aboutfor many a year, and at last came back to the Punjab, where I lived mostlyamong the natives and picked up a living by the conjuring tricks that I hadlearned. What use was it for me, a wretched cripple, to go back toEngland or to make myself known to my old comrades? Even my wishfor revenge would not make me do that. I had rather that Nancy and myold pals should think of Harry Wood as having died with a straight back,than see him living and crawling with a stick like a chimpanzee. Theynever doubted that I was dead, and I meant that they never should. I heardthat Barclay had married Nancy, and that he was rising rapidly in theregiment, 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 them 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 read that textover the fire. The bare sight of me was like a bullet through his guiltyheart.""And then?""Then Nancy fainted, and I caught up the key of the door from herhand, intending to unlock it and get help. But as I was doing it it seemedto me better to leave it alone and get away, for the thing might look blackagainst me, and anyway 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 in thecorner. In an instant out there slipped a beautiful reddish-brown creature,thin and lithe, with the legs of a stoat, a long, thin nose, and a pair of thefinest 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 proveto be 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 a deadman, [422] foully as he has acted. You have at least the satisfaction ofknowing that for thirty years of his life his conscience bitterly reproachedhim for his wicked deed. Ah, there goes Major Murphy on the other sideof the street. Good-bye, Wood. I want to learn if anything has happenedsince 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 conclusively that 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 storyhad I 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 oneoccasion in the same direction as Sergeant James Barclay. You rememberthe small affair of Uriah and Bathsheba? My Biblical knowledge is a triflerusty, I fear, but you will find the story in the first or second of Samuel."