Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes THE PROBLEM OF THOR BRIDGE

SOMEWHERE in the vaults of the bank of Cox and Co., at Charing Cross,there is a travel-worn and battered tin dispatch-box with my name, JohnH. Watson, M.D., Late Indian Army, painted upon the lid. It is crammedwith papers, nearly all of which are records of cases to illustrate thecurious problems which Mr. Sherlock Holmes had at various times toexamine. Some, and not the least interesting, were complete failures, andas such will hardly bear narrating, since no final explanation isforthcoming. A problem without a solution may interest the student, butcan hardly fail to annoy the casual reader. Among these unfinished tales isthat of Mr. James Phillimore, who, stepping back into his own house toget his umbrella, was never more seen in this world. No less remarkable isthat of the cutter Alicia, [1055] which sailed one spring morning into asmall patch of mist from where she never again emerged, nor wasanything further ever heard of herself and her crew. A third case worthyof note is that of Isadora Persano, the well-known journalist and duellist,who was found stark staring mad with a match box in front of him whichcontained a remarkable worm said to be unknown to science. Apart fromthese unfathomed cases, there are some which involve the secrets ofprivate families to an extent which would mean consternation in manyexalted quarters if it were thought possible that they might find their wayinto print. I need not say that such a breach of confidence is unthinkable,and that these records will be separated and destroyed now that my friendhas time to turn his energies to the matter. There remain a considerableresidue of cases of greater or less interest which I might have editedbefore had I not feared to give the public a surfeit which might react uponthe reputation of the man whom above all others I revere. In some I wasmyself concerned and can speak as an eye-witness, while in others I waseither not present or played so small a part that they could only be told asby a third person. The following narrative is drawn from my ownexperience.It was a wild morning in October, and I observed as I was dressing howthe last remaining leaves were being whirled from the solitary plane treewhich graces the yard behind our house. I descended to breakfastprepared to find my companion in depressed spirits, for, like all greatartists, he was easily impressed by his surroundings. On the contrary, Ifound that he had nearly finished his meal, and that his mood wasparticularly bright and joyous, with that somewhat sinister cheerfulnesswhich was characteristic of his lighter moments."You have a case, Holmes?" I remarked."The faculty of deduction is certainly contagious, Watson," heanswered. "It has enabled you to probe my secret. Yes, I have a case. After a month of trivialities and stagnation the wheels move once more.""Might I share it?""There is little to share, but we may discuss it when you haveconsumed the two hard-boiled eggs with which our new cook hasfavoured us. Their condition may not be unconnected with the copy of theFamily Herald which I observed yesterday upon the hall-table. Even sotrivial a matter as cooking an egg demands an attention which isconscious of the passage of time and incompatible with the love romancein that excellent periodical."A quarter of an hour later the table had been cleared and we were faceto face. He had drawn a letter from his pocket."You have heard of Neil Gibson, the Gold King?" he said."You mean the American Senator?""Well, he was once Senator for some Western state, but is better knownas the greatest gold-mining magnate in the world.""Yes, I know of him. He has surely lived in England for some time. Hisname is very familiar.""Yes, he bought a considerable estate in Hampshire some five yearsago. Possibly you have already heard of the tragic end of his wife?""Of course. I remember it now. That is why the name is familiar. But Ireally know nothing of the details."Holmes waved his hand towards some papers on a chair. "I had no ideathat the case was coming my way or I should have had my extractsready," said he. "The fact is that the problem, though exceedinglysensational, appeared to present [1056] no difficulty. The interestingpersonality of the accused does not obscure the clearness of the evidence.That was the view taken by the coroner's jury and also in the police-courtproceedings. It is now referred to the Assizes at Winchester. I fear it is athankless business. I can discover facts, Watson, but I cannot changethem. Unless some entirely new and unexpected ones come to light I donot see what my client can hope for.""Your client?""Ah, I forgot I had not told you. I am getting into your involved habit,Watson, of telling a story backward. You had best read this first."The letter which he handed to me, written in a bold, masterful hand, ranas follows:CLARIDGE'S HOTEL,October 3rd.DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:I can't see the best woman God ever made go to her deathwithout doing all that is possible to save her. I can't explainthings-I can't even try to explain them, but I know beyond alldoubt that Miss Dunbar is innocent. You know the facts-whodoesn't? It has been the gossip of the country. And never a voiceraised for her! It's the damned injustice of it all that makes mecrazy. That woman has a heart that wouldn't let her kill a fly.Well, I'll come at eleven to-morrow and see if you can get someray of light in the dark. Maybe I have a clue and don't know it. Anyhow, all I know and all I have and all I am are for your use ifonly you can save her. If ever in your life you showed yourpowers, put them now into this case.Yours faithfully,J. NEIL GIBSON."There you have it," said Sherlock Holmes, knocking out the ashes ofhis after-breakfast pipe and slowly refilling it. "That is the gentleman Iawait. As to the story, you have hardly time to master all these papers, soI must give it to you in a nutshell if you are to take an intelligent interestin the proceedings. This man is the greatest financial power in the world,and a man, as I understand, of most violent and formidable character. Hemarried a wife, the victim of this tragedy, of whom I know nothing savethat she was past her prime, which was the more unfortunate as a veryattractive governess superintended the education of two young children.These are the three people concerned, and the scene is a grand old manorhouse, the centre of a historical English state. Then as to the tragedy. Thewife was found in the grounds nearly half a mile from the house, late atnight, clad in her dinner dress, with a shawl over her shoulders and arevolver bullet through her brain. No weapon was found near her andthere was no local clue as to the murder. No weapon near her,Watson-mark that! The crime seems to have been committed late in theevening, and the body was found by a game-keeper about eleven o'clock,when it was examined by the police and by a doctor before being carriedup to the house. Is this too condensed, or can you follow it clearly?""It is all very clear. But why suspect the governess?""Well, in the first place there is some very direct evidence. A revolverwith one discharged chamber and a calibre which corresponded with thebullet was found on the floor of her wardrobe." His eyes fixed and herepeated in broken words, "On-the-floor-of-her-wardrobe." Then hesank into silence, and I saw that some [1057] train of thought had been setmoving which I should be foolish to interrupt. Suddenly with a start heemerged into brisk life once more. "Yes, Watson, it was found. Prettydamning, eh? So the two juries thought. Then the dead woman had a noteupon her making an appointment at that very place and signed by thegoverness. How's that? Finally there is the motive. Senator Gibson is anattractive person. If his wife dies, who more likely to succeed her than theyoung lady who had already by all accounts received pressing attentionsfrom her employer? Love, fortune, power, all depending upon one middleaged life. Ugly, Watson-very ugly!""Yes, indeed, Holmes.""Nor could she prove an alibi. On the contrary, she had to admit thatshe was down near Thor Bridge-that was the scene of the tragedy-aboutthat hour. She couldn't deny it, for some passing villager had seen herthere.""That really seems final.""And yet, Watson-and yet! This bridge-a single broad span of stonewith balustraded sides-carries the drive over the narrowest part of a long,deep, reed-girt sheet of water. Thor Mere it is called. In the mouth of thebridge lay the dead woman. Such are the main facts. But here, if I mistakenot, is our client, considerably before his time."Billy had opened the door, but the name which he announced was anunexpected one. Mr. Marlow Bates was a stranger to both of us. He was athin, nervous wisp of a man with frightened eyes and a twitching,hesitating manner- a man whom my own professional eye would judge tobe on the brink of an absolute nervous breakdown."You seem agitated, Mr. Bates," said Holmes. "Pray sit down. I fear Ican only give you a short time, for I have an appointment at eleven.""I know you have," our visitor gasped, shooting out short sentences likea man who is out of breath. "Mr. Gibson is coming. Mr. Gibson is myemployer. I am manager of his estate. Mr. Holmes, he is a villain-aninfernal villain.""Strong language, Mr. Bates.""I have to be emphatic, Mr. Holmes, for the time is so limited. I wouldnot have him find me here for the world. He is almost due now. But I wasso situated that I could not come earlier. His secretary, Mr. Ferguson,only told me this morning of his appointment with you.""And you are his manager?""I have given him notice. In a couple of weeks I shall have shaken offhis accursed slavery. A hard man, Mr. Holmes, hard to all about him.Those public charities are a screen to cover his private iniquities. But hiswife was his chief victim. He was brutal to her-yes, sir, brutal! How shecame by her death I do not know, but I am sure that he had made her life a misery to her. She was a creature of the tropics, a Brazilian by birth, as nodoubt you know.""No, it had escaped me.""Tropical by birth and tropical by nature. A child of the sun and ofpassion. She had loved him as such women can love, but when her ownphysical charms had faded-I am told that they once were great-there wasnothing to hold him. We all liked her and felt for her and hated him forthe way that he treated her. But he is plausible and cunning. That is all Ihave to say to you. Don't take him at his face value. There is morebehind. Now I'll go. No, no, don't detain me! He is almost due."[1058] With a frightened look at the clock our strange visitor literallyran to the door and disappeared."Well! Well!" said Holmes after an interval of silence. "Mr. Gibsonseems to have a nice loyal household. But the warning is a useful one, andnow we can only wait till the man himself appears."Sharp at the hour we heard a heavy step upon the stairs, and the famousmillionaire was shown into the room. As I looked upon him I understoodnot only the fears and dislike of his manager but also the execrationswhich so many business rivals have heaped upon his head. If I were asculptor and desired to idealize the successful man of affairs, iron ofnerve and leathery of conscience, I should choose Mr. Neil Gibson as mymodel. His tall, gaunt, craggy figure had a suggestion of hunger andrapacity. An Abraham Lincoln keyed to base uses instead of high oneswould give some idea of the man. His face might have been chiselled ingranite, hard-set, craggy, remorseless, with deep lines upon it, the scars ofmany a crisis. Cold gray eyes, looking shrewdly out from under bristlingbrows, surveyed us each in turn. He bowed in perfunctory fashion asHolmes mentioned my name, and then with a masterful air of possessionhe drew a chair up to my companion and seated himself with his bonyknees almost touching him."Let me say right here, Mr. Holmes," he began, "that money is nothingto me in this case. You can burn it if it's any use in lighting you to thetruth. This woman is innocent and this woman has to be cleared, and it'sup to you to do it. Name your figure!""My professional charges are upon a fixed scale," said Holmes coldly."I do not vary them, save when I remit them altogether.""Well, if dollars make no difference to you, think of the reputation. Ifyou pull this off every paper in England and America will be boomingyou. You'll be the talk of two continents.""Thank you, Mr. Gibson, I do not think that I am in need of booming. Itmay surprise you to know that I prefer to work anonymously, and that it isthe problem itself which attracts me. But we are wasting time. Let us getdown to the facts.""I think that you will find all the main ones in the press reports. I don'tknow that I can add anything which will help you. But if there is anythingyou would wish more light upon-well, I am here to give it.""Well, there is just one point.""What is it?""What were the exact relations between you and Miss Dunbar?" The Gold King gave a violent start and half rose from his chair. Thenhis massive calm came back to him."I suppose you are within your rights-and maybe doing your duty-inasking such a question, Mr. Holmes.""We will agree to suppose so," said Holmes."Then I can assure you that our relations were entirely and alwaysthose of an employer towards a young lady whom he never conversedwith, or ever saw, save when she was in the company of his children."Holmes rose from his chair."I am a rather busy man, Mr. Gibson," said he, "and I have no time ortaste for aimless conversations. I wish you good-morning."Our visitor had risen also, and his great loose figure towered aboveHolmes. [1059] There was an angry gleam from under those bristlingbrows and a tinge of colour in the sallow cheeks."What the devil do you mean by this, Mr. Holmes? Do you dismiss mycase?""Well, Mr. Gibson, at least I dismiss you. I should have thought mywords were plain.""Plain enough, but what's at the back of it? Raising the price on me, orafraid to tackle it, or what? I've a right to a plain answer.""Well, perhaps you have," said Holmes. "I'll give you one. This case isquite sufficiently complicated to start with without the further difficultyof false information.""Meaning that I lie.""Well, I was trying to express it as delicately as I could, but if youinsist upon the word I will not contradict you."I sprang to my feet, for the expression upon the millionaire's face wasfiendish in its intensity, and he had raised his great knotted fist. Holmessmiled languidly and reached his hand out for his pipe."Don't be noisy, Mr. Gibson. I find that after breakfast even thesmallest argument is unsettling. I suggest that a stroll in the morning airand a little quiet thought will be greatly to your advantage."With an effort the Gold King mastered his fury. I could not but admirehim, for by a supreme self-command he had turned in a minute from a hotflame of anger to a frigid and contemptuous indifference."Well, it's your choice. I guess you know how to run your ownbusiness. I can't make you touch the case against your will. You've doneyourself no good this morning, Mr. Holmes, for I have broken strongermen than you. No man ever crossed me and was the better for it.""So many have said so, and yet here I am," said Holmes, smiling."Well, good-morning, Mr. Gibson. You have a good deal yet to learn."Our visitor made a noisy exit, but Holmes smoked in imperturbablesilence with dreamy eyes fixed upon the ceiling."Any views, Watson?" he asked at last."Well, Holmes, I must confess that when I consider that this is a manwho would certainly brush any obstacle from his path, and when Iremember that his wife may have been an obstacle and an object ofdislike, as that man Bates plainly told us, it seems to me- -""Exactly. And to me also.""But what were his relations with the governess, and how did youdiscover them?""Bluff, Watson, bluff! When I considered the passionate,unconventional, unbusinesslike tone of his letter and contrasted it with hisself-contained manner and appearance, it was pretty clear that there wassome deep emotion which centred upon the accused woman rather than upon the victim. We've got to understand the exact relations of thosethree people if we are to reach the truth. You saw the frontal attack whichI made upon him, and how imperturbably he received it. Then I bluffedhim by giving him the impression that I was absolutely certain, when inreality I was only extremely suspicious.""Perhaps he will come back?""He is sure to come back. He must come back. He can't leave it whereit is. Ha! isn't that a ring? Yes, there is his footstep. Well, Mr. Gibson, Iwas just saying to Dr. Watson that you were somewhat overdue."[1060] The Gold King had reentered the room in a more chastened moodthan he had left it. His wounded pride still showed in his resentful eyes,but his common sense had shown him that he must yield if he wouldattain his end."I've been thinking it over, Mr. Holmes, and I feel that I have beenhasty in taking your remarks amiss. You are justified in getting down tothe facts, whatever they may be, and I think the more of you for it. I canassure you, however, that the relations between Miss Dunbar and medon't really touch this case.""That is for me to decide, is it not?""Yes, I guess that is so. You're like a surgeon who wants everysymptom before he can give his diagnosis.""Exactly. That expresses it. And it is only a patient who has an objectin deceiving his surgeon who would conceal the facts of his case.""That may be so, but you will admit, Mr. Holmes, that most men wouldshy off a bit when they are asked point-blank what their relations with awoman may be-if there is really some serious feeling in the case. I guessmost men have a little private reserve of their own in some corner of theirsouls where they don't welcome intruders. And you burst suddenly into it.But the object excuses you, since it was to try and save her. Well, thestakes are down and the reserve open, and you can explore where youwill. What is it you want?""The truth."The Gold King paused for a moment as one who marshals his thoughts.His grim, deep-lined face had become even sadder and more grave."I can give it to you in a very few words, Mr. Holmes," said he at last."There are some things that are painful as well as difficult to say, so Iwon't go deeper than is needful. I met my wife when I was gold-huntingin Brazil. Maria Pinto was the daughter of a government official atManaos, and she was very beautiful. I was young and ardent in thosedays, but even now, as I look back with colder blood and a more criticaleye, I can see that she was rare and wonderful in her beauty. It was a deeprich nature, too, passionate, whole-hearted, tropical, ill-balanced, verydifferent from the American women whom I had known. Well, to make along story short, I loved her and I married her. It was only when theromance had passed-and it lingered for years- that I realized that we hadnothing-absolutely nothing-in common. My love faded. If hers had fadedalso it might have been easier. But you know the wonderful way ofwomen! Do what I might, nothing could turn her from me. If I have beenharsh to her, even brutal as some have said, it has been because I knew that if I could kill her love, or if it turned to hate, it would be easier forboth of us. But nothing changed her. She adored me in those Englishwoods as she had adored me twenty years ago on the banks of theAmazon. Do what I might, she was as devoted as ever."Then came Miss Grace Dunbar. She answered our advertisement andbecame governess to our two children. Perhaps you have seen her portraitin the papers. The whole world has proclaimed that she also is a verybeautiful woman. Now, I make no pretence to be more moral than myneighbours, and I will admit to you that I could not live under the sameroof with such a woman and in daily contact with her without feeling apassionate regard for her. Do you blame me, Mr. Holmes?""I do not blame you for feeling it. I should blame you if you expressedit, since this young lady was in a sense under your protection.""Well, maybe so," said the millionaire, though for a moment thereproof had [1061] brought the old angry gleam into his eyes. "I'm notpretending to be any better than I am. I guess all my life I've been a manthat reached out his hand for what he wanted, and I never wantedanything more than the love and possession of that woman. I told her so.""Oh, you did, did you?"Holmes could look very formidable when he was moved."I said to her that if I could marry her I would, but that it was out of mypower. I said that money was no object and that all I could do to make herhappy and comfortable would be done.""Very generous, I am sure," said Holmes with a sneer."See here, Mr. Holmes. I came to you on a question of evidence, not ona question of morals. I'm not asking for your criticism.""It is only for the young lady's sake that I touch your case at all," saidHolmes sternly. "I don't know that anything she is accused of is reallyworse than what you have yourself admitted, that you have tried to ruin adefenceless girl who was under your roof. Some of you rich men have tobe taught that all the world cannot be bribed into condoning youroffences."To my surprise the Gold King took the reproof with equanimity."That's how I feel myself about it now. I thank God that my plans didnot work out as I intended. She would have none of it, and she wanted toleave the house instantly.""Why did she not?""Well, in the first place, others were dependent upon her, and it was nolight matter for her to let them all down by sacrificing her living. When Ihad sworn-as I did-that she should never be molested again, sheconsented to remain. But there was another reason. She knew theinfluence she had over me, and that it was stronger than any otherinfluence in the world. She wanted to use it for good.""How?""Well, she knew something of my affairs. They are large, Mr. Holmes-large beyond the belief of an ordinary man. I can make or break-and it isusually break. It wasn't individuals only. It was communities, cities, evennations. Business is a hard game, and the weak go to the wall. I played thegame for all it was worth. I never squealed myself, and I never cared if the other fellow squealed. But she saw it different. I guess she was right.She believed and said that a fortune for one man that was more than heneeded should not be built on ten thousand ruined men who were leftwithout the means of life. That was how she saw it, and I guess she couldsee past the dollars to something that was more lasting. She found that Ilistened to what she said, and she believed she was serving the world byinfluencing my actions. So she stayed-and then this came along.""Can you throw any light upon that?"The Gold King paused for a minute or more, his head sunk in hishands, lost in deep thought."It's very black against her. I can't deny that. And women lead aninward life and may do things beyond the judgment of a man. At first Iwas so rattled and taken aback that I was ready to think she had been ledaway in some extraordinary fashion that was clean against her usualnature. One explanation came into my head. I give it to you, Mr. Holmes,for what it is worth. There is no doubt that my wife was bitterly jealous.There is a soul-jealousy that can be as frantic as any body-jealousy, andthough my wife had no cause-and I think she understood this-[1062] forthe latter, she was aware that this English girl exerted an influence uponmy mind and my acts that she herself never had. It was an influence forgood, but that did not mend the matter. She was crazy with hatred, and theheat of the Amazon was always in her blood. She might have planned tomurder Miss Dunbar-or we will say to threaten her with a gun and sofrighten her into leaving us. Then there might have been a scuffle and thegun gone off and shot the woman who held it.""That possibility had already occurred to me," said Holmes. "Indeed, itis the only obvious alternative to deliberate murder.""But she utterly denies it.""Well, that is not final-is it? One can understand that a woman placedin so awful a position might hurry home still in her bewilderment holdingthe revolver. She might even throw it down among her clothes, hardlyknowing what she was doing, and when it was found she might try to lieher way out by a total denial, since all explanation was impossible. Whatis against such a supposition?""Miss Dunbar herself.""Well, perhaps."Holmes looked at his watch. "I have no doubt we can get the necessarypermits this morning and reach Winchester by the evening train. When Ihave seen this young lady it is very possible that I may be of more use toyou in the matter, though I cannot promise that my conclusions willnecessarily be such as you desire."There was some delay in the official pass, and instead of reachingWinchester that day we went down to Thor Place, the Hampshire estate ofMr. Neil Gibson. He did not accompany us himself, but we had theaddress of Sergeant Coventry, of the local police, who had first examinedinto the affair. He was a tall, thin, cadaverous man, with a secretive andmysterious manner which conveyed the idea that he knew or suspected avery great deal more than he dared say. He had a trick, too, of suddenlysinking his voice to a whisper as if he had come upon something of vital importance, though the information was usually commonplace enough.Behind these tricks of manner he soon showed himself to be a decent,honest fellow who was not too proud to admit that he was out of his depthand would welcome any help."Anyhow, I'd rather have you than Scotland Yard, Mr. Holmes," saidhe. "If the Yard gets called into a case, then the local loses all credit forsuccess and may be blamed for failure. Now, you play straight, so I'veheard.""I need not appear in the matter at all," said Holmes to the evidentrelief of our melancholy acquaintance. "If I can clear it up I don't ask tohave my name mentioned.""Well, it's very handsome of you, I am sure. And your friend, Dr.Watson, can be trusted, I know. Now, Mr. Holmes, as we walk down tothe place there is one question I should like to ask you. I'd breathe it to nosoul but you." He looked round as though he hardly dare utter the words."Don't you think there might be a case against Mr. Neil Gibson himself?""I have been considering that.""You've not seen Miss Dunbar. She is a wonderful fine woman inevery way. He may well have wished his wife out of the road. And theseAmericans are readier with pistols than our folk are. It was his pistol, youknow.""Was that clearly made out?""Yes, sir. It was one of a pair that he had."[1063] "One of a pair? Where is the other?""Well, the gentleman has a lot of firearms of one sort and another. Wenever quite matched that particular pistol-but the box was made for two.""If it was one of a pair you should surely be able to match it.""Well, we have them all laid out at the house if you would care to lookthem over.""Later, perhaps. I think we will walk down together and have a look atthe scene of the tragedy."This conversation had taken place in the little front room of SergeantCoventry's humble cottage which served as the local police-station. Awalk of half a mile or so across a wind-swept heath, all gold and bronzewith the fading ferns, brought us to a side-gate opening into the groundsof the Thor Place estate. A path led us through the pheasant preserves,and then from a clearing we saw the widespread, half-timbered house,half Tudor and half Georgian, upon the crest of the hill. Beside us therewas a long, reedy pool, constricted in the centre where the main carriagedrive passed over a stone bridge, but swelling into small lakes on eitherside. Our guide paused at the mouth of this bridge, and he pointed to theground."That was where Mrs. Gibson's body lay. I marked it by that stone.""I understand that you were there before it was moved?""Yes, they sent for me at once.""Who did?""Mr. Gibson himself. The moment the alarm was given and he hadrushed down with others from the house, he insisted that nothing shouldbe moved until the police should arrive.""That was sensible. I gathered from the newspaper report that the shotwas fired from close quarters.""Yes, sir, very close.""Near the right temple?""Just behind it, sir.""How did the body lie?""On the back, sir. No trace of a struggle. No marks. No weapon. Theshort note from Miss Dunbar was clutched in her left hand.""Clutched, you say?""Yes, sir, we could hardly open the fingers.""That is of great importance. It excludes the idea that anyone couldhave placed the note there after death in order to furnish a false clue. Dearme! The note, as I remember, was quite short:"I will be at Thor Bridge at nine o'clock."G. DUNBAR.Was that not so?""Yes, sir." "Did Miss Dunbar admit writing it?""Yes, sir.""What was her explanation?""Her defence was reserved for the Assizes. She would say nothing.""The problem is certainly a very interesting one. The point of the letteris very obscure, is it not?"[1064] "Well, sir," said the guide, "it seemed, if I may be so bold as tosay so, the only really clear point in the whole case."Holmes shook his head."Granting that the letter is genuine and was really written, it wascertainly received some time before-say one hour or two. Why, then, wasthis lady still clasping it in her left hand? Why should she carry it socarefully? She did not need to refer to it in the interview. Does it not seemremarkable?""Well, sir, as you put it, perhaps it does.""I think I should like to sit quietly for a few minutes and think it out."He seated himself upon the stone ledge of the bridge, and I could see hisquick gray eyes darting their questioning glances in every direction.Suddenly he sprang up again and ran across to the opposite parapet,whipped his lens from his pocket, and began to examine the stonework."This is curious," said he."Yes, sir, we saw the chip on the ledge. I expect it's been done by somepasser-by."The stonework was gray, but at this one point it showed white for aspace not larger than a sixpence. When examined closely one could seethat the surface was chipped as by a sharp blow."It took some violence to do that," said Holmes thoughtfully. With hiscane he struck the ledge several times without leaving a mark. "Yes, itwas a hard knock. In a curious place, too. It was not from above but frombelow, for you see that it is on the lower edge of the parapet.""But it is at least fifteen feet from the body.""Yes, it is fifteen feet from the body. It may have nothing to do with thematter, but it is a point worth noting. I do not think that we have anythingmore to learn here. There were no footsteps, you say?""The ground was iron hard, sir. There were no traces at all.""Then we can go. We will go up to the house first and look over theseweapons of which you speak. Then we shall get on to Winchester, for Ishould desire to see Miss Dunbar before we go farther."Mr. Neil Gibson had not returned from town, but we saw in the housethe neurotic Mr. Bates who had called upon us in the morning. He showedus with a sinister relish the formidable array of firearms of various shapesand sizes which his employer had accumulated in the course of anadventurous life."Mr. Gibson has his enemies, as anyone would expect who knew himand his methods," said he. "He sleeps with a loaded revolver in thedrawer beside his bed. He is a man of violence, sir, and there are timeswhen all of us are afraid of him. I am sure that the poor lady who haspassed was often terrified.""Did you ever witness physical violence towards her?""No, I cannot say that. But I have heard words which were nearly asbad- words of cold, cutting contempt, even before the servants." "Our millionaire does not seem to shine in private life," remarkedHolmes as we made our way to the station. "Well, Watson, we have comeon a good many facts, some of them new ones, and yet I seem some wayfrom my conclusion. In spite of the very evident dislike which Mr. Bateshas to his employer, I gather from him that when the alarm came he wasundoubtedly in his library. Dinner was over at 8:30 and all was normal upto then. It is true that the alarm was somewhat late in the evening, but thetragedy certainly occurred about the hour named in the note. There is noevidence at all that Mr. Gibson had been out of doors [1065] since hisreturn from town at five o'clock. On the other hand, Miss Dunbar, as Iunderstand it, admits that she had made an appointment to meet Mrs.Gibson at the bridge. Beyond this she would say nothing, as her lawyerhad advised her to reserve her defence. We have several very vitalquestions to ask that young lady, and my mind will not be easy until wehave seen her. I must confess that the case would seem to me to be veryblack against her if it were not for one thing.""And what is that, Holmes?""The finding of the pistol in her wardrobe.""Dear me, Holmes!" I cried, "that seemed to me to be the mostdamning incident of all.""Not so, Watson. It had struck me even at my first perfunctory readingas very strange, and now that I am in closer touch with the case it is myonly firm ground for hope. We must look for consistency. Where there isa want of it we must suspect deception.""I hardly follow you.""Well now, Watson, suppose for a moment that we visualize you in thecharacter of a woman who, in a cold, premeditated fashion, is about to getrid of a rival. You have planned it. A note has been written. The victimhas come. You have your weapon. The crime is done. It has beenworkmanlike and complete. Do you tell me that after carrying out socrafty a crime you would now ruin your reputation as a criminal byforgetting to fling your weapon into those adjacent reed-beds whichwould forever cover it, but you must needs carry it carefully home andput it in your own wardrobe, the very first place that would be searched?Your best friends would hardly call you a schemer, Watson, and yet Icould not picture you doing anything so crude as that.""In the excitement of the moment- -""No, no, Watson, I will not admit that it is possible. Where a crime iscoolly premeditated, then the means of covering it are coollypremeditated also. I hope, therefore, that we are in the presence of aserious misconception.""But there is so much to explain.""Well, we shall set about explaining it. When once your point of viewis changed, the very thing which was so damning becomes a clue to thetruth. For example, there is this revolver. Miss Dunbar disclaims allknowledge of it. On our new theory she is speaking truth when she saysso. Therefore, it was placed in her wardrobe. Who placed it there?Someone who wished to incriminate her. Was not that person the actualcriminal? You see how we come at once upon a most fruitful line of inquiry."We were compelled to spend the night at Winchester, as the formalitieshad not yet been completed, but next morning, in the company of Mr.Joyce Cummings, the rising barrister who was entrusted with the defence,we were allowed to see the young lady in her cell. I had expected from allthat we had heard to see a beautiful woman, but I can never forget theeffect which Miss Dunbar produced upon me. It was no wonder that eventhe masterful millionaire had found in her something more powerful thanhimself-something which could control and guide him. One felt, too, asone looked at the strong, clear-cut, and yet sensitive face, that even shouldshe be capable of some impetuous deed, none the less there was an innatenobility of character which would make her influence always for thegood. She was a brunette, tall, with a noble figure and commandingpresence, but her dark eyes had in them the appealing, helpless expressionof the hunted creature [1066] who feels the nets around it, but can see noway out from the toils. Now, as she realized the presence and the help ofmy famous friend, there came a touch of colour in her wan cheeks and alight of hope began to glimmer in the glance which she turned upon us."Perhaps Mr. Neil Gibson has told you something of what occurredbetween us?" she asked in a low, agitated voice."Yes," Holmes answered, "you need not pain yourself by entering intothat part of the story. After seeing you, I am prepared to accept Mr.Gibson's statement both as to the influence which you had over him andas to the innocence of your relations with him. But why was the wholesituation not brought out in court?""It seemed to me incredible that such a charge could be sustained. Ithought that if we waited the whole thing must clear itself up without ourbeing compelled to enter into painful details of the inner life of thefamily. But I understand that far from clearing it has become even moreserious.""My dear young lady," cried Holmes earnestly, "I beg you to have noillusions upon the point. Mr. Cummings here would assure you that all thecards are at present against us, and that we must do everything that ispossible if we are to win clear. It would be a cruel deception to pretendthat you are not in very great danger. Give me all the help you can, then,to get at the truth.""I will conceal nothing.""Tell us, then, of your true relations with Mr. Gibson's wife.""She hated me, Mr. Holmes. She hated me with all the fervour of hertropical nature. She was a woman who would do nothing by halves, andthe measure of her love for her husband was the measure also of herhatred for me. It is probable that she misunderstood our relations. I wouldnot wish to wrong her, but she loved so vividly in a physical sense thatshe could hardly understand the mental, and even spiritual, tie which heldher husband to me, or imagine that it was only my desire to influence hispower to good ends which kept me under his roof. I can see now that Iwas wrong. Nothing could justify me in remaining where I was a cause ofunhappiness, and yet it is certain that the unhappiness would haveremained even if I had left the house." "Now, Miss Dunbar," said Holmes, "I beg you to tell us exactly whatoccurred that evening.""I can tell you the truth so far as I know it, Mr. Holmes, but I am in aposition to prove nothing, and there are points-the most vital points-which I can neither explain nor can I imagine any explanation.""If you will find the facts, perhaps others may find the explanation.""With regard, then, to my presence at Thor Bridge that night, I receiveda note from Mrs. Gibson in the morning. It lay on the table of theschoolroom, and it may have been left there by her own hand. It imploredme to see her there after dinner, said she had something important to sayto me, and asked me to leave an answer on the sundial in the garden, asshe desired no one to be in our confidence. I saw no reason for suchsecrecy, but I did as she asked, accepting the appointment. She asked meto destroy her note and I burned it in the schoolroom grate. She was verymuch afraid of her husband, who treated her with a harshness for which Ifrequently reproached him, and I could only imagine that she acted in thisway because she did not wish him to know of our interview.""Yet she kept your reply very carefully?""Yes. I was surprised to hear that she had it in her hand when she died."[1067] "Well, what happened then?""I went down as I had promised. When I reached the bridge she waswaiting for me. Never did I realize till that moment how this poor creaturehated me. She was like a mad woman-indeed, I think she was a madwoman, subtly mad with the deep power of deception which insanepeople may have. How else could she have met me with unconcern everyday and yet had so raging a hatred of me in her heart? I will not say whatshe said. She poured her whole wild fury out in burning and horriblewords. I did not even answer-I could not. It was dreadful to see her. I putmy hands to my ears and rushed away. When I left her she was standing,still shrieking out her curses at me, in the mouth of the bridge.""Where she was afterwards found?""Within a few yards from the spot.""And yet, presuming that she met her death shortly after you left her,you heard no shot?""No, I heard nothing. But, indeed, Mr. Holmes, I was so agitated andhorrified by this terrible outbreak that I rushed to get back to the peace ofmy own room, and I was incapable of noticing anything which happened.""You say that you returned to your room. Did you leave it again beforenext morning?""Yes, when the alarm came that the poor creature had met her death Iran out with the others.""Did you see Mr. Gibson?""Yes, he had just returned from the bridge when I saw him. He had sentfor the doctor and the police.""Did he seem to you much perturbed?""Mr. Gibson is a very strong, self-contained man. I do not think that hewould ever show his emotions on the surface. But I, who knew him sowell, could see that he was deeply concerned.""Then we come to the all-important point. This pistol that was found inyour room. Had you ever seen it before?""Never, I swear it.""When was it found?""Next morning, when the police made their search.""Among your clothes?""Yes, on the floor of my wardrobe under my dresses.""You could not guess how long it had been there?""It had not been there the morning before.""How do you know?""Because I tidied out the wardrobe.""That is final. Then someone came into your room and placed the pistolthere in order to inculpate you.""It must have been so.""And when?""It could only have been at meal-time, or else at the hours when Iwould be in the schoolroom with the children.""As you were when you got the note?""Yes, from that time onward for the whole morning.""Thank you, Miss Dunbar. Is there any other point which could helpme in the investigation?"[1068] "I can think of none.""There was some sign of violence on the stonework of the bridge-aperfectly fresh chip just opposite the body. Could you suggest anypossible explanation of that?""Surely it must be a mere coincidence.""Curious, Miss Dunbar, very curious. Why should it appear at the verytime of the tragedy, and why at the very place?""But what could have caused it? Only great violence could have suchan effect."Holmes did not answer. His pale, eager face had suddenly assumed that tense, far-away expression which I had learned to associate with thesupreme manifestations of his genius. So evident was the crisis in hismind that none of us dared to speak, and we sat, barrister, prisoner, andmyself, watching him in a concentrated and absorbed silence. Suddenlyhe sprang from his chair, vibrating with nervous energy and the pressingneed for action."Come, Watson, come!" he cried."What is it, Mr. Holmes?""Never mind, my dear lady. You will hear from me, Mr. Cummings.With the help of the god of justice I will give you a case which will makeEngland ring. You will get news by to-morrow, Miss Dunbar, andmeanwhile take my assurance that the clouds are lifting and that I haveevery hope that the light of truth is breaking through."It was not a long journey from Winchester to Thor Place, but it waslong to me in my impatience, while for Holmes it was evident that itseemed endless; for, in his nervous restlessness, he could not sit still, butpaced the carriage or drummed with his long, sensitive fingers upon thecushions beside him. Suddenly, however, as we neared our destination heseated himself opposite to me -we had a first-class carriage toourselves-and laying a hand upon each of my knees he looked into myeyes with the peculiarly mischievous gaze which was characteristic of hismore imp-like moods."Watson," said he, "I have some recollection that you go armed uponthese excursions of ours." It was as well for him that I did so, for he took little care for his ownsafety when his mind was once absorbed by a problem, so that more thanonce my revolver had been a good friend in need. I reminded him of thefact."Yes, yes, I am a little absent-minded in such matters. But have youyour revolver on you?"I produced it from my hip-pocket, a short, handy, but very serviceablelittle weapon. He undid the catch, shook out the cartridges, and examinedit with care."It's heavy-remarkably heavy," said he."Yes, it is a solid bit of work."He mused over it for a minute."Do you know, Watson," said he, "I believe your revolver is going tohave a very intimate connection with the mystery which we areinvestigating.""My dear Holmes, you are joking.""No, Watson, I am very serious. There is a test before us. If the testcomes off, all will be clear. And the test will depend upon the conduct ofthis little weapon. One cartridge out. Now we will replace the other fiveand put on the safety-catch. So! That increases the weight and makes it abetter reproduction."I had no glimmer of what was in his mind, nor did he enlighten me, butsat [1069] lost in thought until we pulled up in the little Hampshire station.We secured a ramshackle trap, and in a quarter of an hour were at thehouse of our confidential friend, the sergeant."A clue, Mr. Holmes? What is it?""It all depends upon the behaviour of Dr. Watson's revolver," said myfriend. "Here it is. Now, officer, can you give me ten yards of string?"The village shop provided a ball of stout twine."I think that this is all we will need," said Holmes. "Now, if you please,we will get off on what I hope is the last stage of our journey."The sun was setting and turning the rolling Hampshire moor into awonderful autumnal panorama. The sergeant, with many critical andincredulous glances, which showed his deep doubts of the sanity of mycompanion, lurched along beside us. As we approached the scene of thecrime I could see that my friend under all his habitual coolness was intruth deeply agitated."Yes," he said in answer to my remark, "you have seen me miss mymark before, Watson. I have an instinct for such things, and yet it hassometimes played me false. It seemed a certainty when first it flashedacross my mind in the cell at Winchester, but one drawback of an activemind is that one can always conceive alternative explanations whichwould make our scent a false one. And yet-and yet- - Well, Watson, wecan but try."As he walked he had firmly tied one end of the string to the handle ofthe revolver. We had now reached the scene of the tragedy. With greatcare he marked out under the guidance of the policeman the exact spotwhere the body had been stretched. He then hunted among the heatherand the ferns until he found a considerable stone. This he secured to the other end of his line of string, and he hung it over the parapet of thebridge so that it swung clear above the water. He then stood on the fatalspot, some distance from the edge of the bridge, with my revolver in hishand, the string being taut between the weapon and the heavy stone on thefarther side."Now for it!" he cried.At the words he raised the pistol to his head, and then let go his grip. Inan instant it had been whisked away by the weight of the stone, had struckwith a sharp crack against the parapet, and had vanished over the side intothe water. It had hardly gone before Holmes was kneeling beside thestonework, and a joyous cry showed that he had found what he expected."Was there ever a more exact demonstration?" he cried. "See, Watson,your revolver has solved the problem!" As he spoke he pointed to asecond chip of the exact size and shape of the first which had appeared onthe under edge of the stone balustrade."We'll stay at the inn to-night," he continued as he rose and faced theastonished sergeant. "You will, of course, get a grappling-hook and youwill easily restore my friend's revolver. You will also find beside it therevolver, string and weight with which this vindictive woman attemptedto disguise her own crime and to fasten a charge of murder upon aninnocent victim. You can let Mr. Gibson know that I will see him in themorning, when steps can be taken for Miss Dunbar's vindication."Late that evening, as we sat together smoking our pipes in the villageinn, Holmes gave me a brief review of what had passed."I fear, Watson," said he, "that you will not improve any reputation which I [1070] may have acquired by adding the case of the Thor Bridgemystery to your annals. I have been sluggish in mind and wanting in thatmixture of imagination and reality which is the basis of my art. I confessthat the chip in the stonework was a sufficient clue to suggest the truesolution, and that I blame myself for not having attained it sooner."It must be admitted that the workings of this unhappy woman's mindwere deep and subtle, so that it was no very simple matter to unravel herplot. I do not think that in our adventures we have ever come across astranger example of what perverted love can bring about. Whether MissDunbar was her rival in a physical or in a merely mental sense seems tohave been equally unforgivable in her eyes. No doubt she blamed thisinnocent lady for all those harsh dealings and unkind words with whichher husband tried to repel her too demonstrative affection. Her firstresolution was to end her own life. Her second was to do it in such a wayas to involve her victim in a fate which was worse far than any suddendeath could be."We can follow the various steps quite clearly, and they show aremarkable subtlety of mind. A note was extracted very cleverly fromMiss Dunbar which would make it appear that she had chosen the sceneof the crime. In her anxiety that it should be discovered she somewhatoverdid it by holding it in her hand to the last. This alone should haveexcited my suspicions earlier than it did."Then she took one of her husband's revolvers-there was, as you saw,an arsenal in the house-and kept it for her own use. A similar one sheconcealed that morning in Miss Dunbar's wardrobe after discharging onebarrel, which she could easily do in the woods without attractingattention. She then went down to the bridge where she had contrived thisexceedingly ingenious method for getting rid of her weapon. When MissDunbar appeared she used her last breath in pouring out her hatred, andthen, when she was out of hearing, carried out her terrible purpose. Everylink is now in its place and the chain is complete. The papers may askwhy the mere was not dragged in the first instance, but it is easy to bewise after the event, and in any case the expanse of a reed-filled lake is noeasy matter to drag unless you have a clear perception of what you arelooking for and where. Well, Watson, we have helped a remarkablewoman, and also a formidable man. Should they in the future join theirforces, as seems not unlikely, the financial world may find that Mr. NeilGibson has learned something in that schoolroom of sorrow where ourearthly lessons are taught."