THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES by SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE 15 page

Date: 2015-10-07; view: 344.

wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the

chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in

which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last

night, as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I

suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which

had been the herald of her own death. I sprang up and lit the

lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to

go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was

daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which

is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on

this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your

advice."

"You have done wisely," said my friend. "But have you told me

all?"

"Yes, all."

"Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather."

"Why, what do you mean?"

For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which

fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor's knee. Five little

livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed

upon the white wrist.

"You have been cruelly used," said Holmes.

The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. "He

is a hard man," she said, "and perhaps he hardly knows his own

strength."

There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin

upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire.

"This is a very deep business," he said at last. "There are a

thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide

upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If

we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for

us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your

stepfather?"

"As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some

most important business. It is probable that he will be away all

day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a

housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily

get her out of the way."

"Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?"

"By no means."

"Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?"

"I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am

in town. But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as to

be there in time for your coming."

"And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some

small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and

breakfast?"

"No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have

confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you

again this afternoon." She dropped her thick black veil over her

face and glided from the room.

"And what do you think of it all, Watson?" asked Sherlock Holmes,

leaning back in his chair.

"It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business."

"Dark enough and sinister enough."

"Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls

are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable,

then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her

mysterious end."

"What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the

very peculiar words of the dying woman?"

"I cannot think."

"When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of

a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor,

the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has

an interest in preventing his stepdaughter's marriage, the dying

allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner

heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of

those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its

place, I think that there is good ground to think that the

mystery may be cleared along those lines."

"But what, then, did the gipsies do?"

"I cannot imagine."

"I see many objections to any such theory."

"And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going

to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are

fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of

the devil!"

The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that

our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had

framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar

mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a

black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters,

with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his

hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and his

breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large face,

seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and

marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other

of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin,

fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old

bird of prey.

"Which of you is Holmes?" asked this apparition.

"My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me," said my

companion quietly.

"I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran."

"Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes blandly. "Pray take a seat."

"I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I

have traced her. What has she been saying to you?"

"It is a little cold for the time of the year," said Holmes.

"What has she been saying to you?" screamed the old man

furiously.

"But I have heard that the crocuses promise well," continued my

companion imperturbably.

"Ha! You put me off, do you?" said our new visitor, taking a step

forward and shaking his hunting-crop. "I know you, you scoundrel!

I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler."

My friend smiled.

"Holmes, the busybody!"

His smile broadened.

"Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!"

Holmes chuckled heartily. "Your conversation is most

entertaining," said he. "When you go out close the door, for

there is a decided draught."

"I will go when I have said my say. Don't you dare to meddle with

my affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her!

I am a dangerous man to fall foul of! See here." He stepped

swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with

his huge brown hands.

"See that you keep yourself out of my grip," he snarled, and

hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the

room.

"He seems a very amiable person," said Holmes, laughing. "I am

not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him

that my grip was not much more feeble than his own." As he spoke

he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort,

straightened it out again.

"Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official

detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation,

however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer

from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now,

Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk

down to Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may

help us in this matter."

It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his

excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled

over with notes and figures.

"I have seen the will of the deceased wife," said he. "To

determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the

present prices of the investments with which it is concerned. The

total income, which at the time of the wife's death was little

short of 1100 pounds, is now, through the fall in agricultural

prices, not more than 750 pounds. Each daughter can claim an

income of 250 pounds, in case of marriage. It is evident,

therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would have

had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to

a very serious extent. My morning's work has not been wasted,

since it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for

standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson,

this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is

aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you

are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be

very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your

pocket. An Eley's No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen

who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush

are, I think, all that we need."

At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for

Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove

for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a

perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the

heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out

their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant

smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a strange

contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this

sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in

the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over

his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the

deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the

shoulder, and pointed over the meadows.

"Look there!" said he.

A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope,

thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the

branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a

very old mansion.

"Stoke Moran?" said he.

"Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott," remarked

the driver.

"There is some building going on there," said Holmes; "that is

where we are going."

"There's the village," said the driver, pointing to a cluster of

roofs some distance to the left; "but if you want to get to the

house, you'll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by

the foot-path over the fields. There it is, where the lady is

walking."

"And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner," observed Holmes, shading

his eyes. "Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest."

We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way

to Leatherhead.

"I thought it as well," said Holmes as we climbed the stile,

"that this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or

on some definite business. It may stop his gossip.

Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as

our word."

Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a

face which spoke her joy. "I have been waiting so eagerly for

you," she cried, shaking hands with us warmly. "All has turned

out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely

that he will be back before evening."

"We have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance,"

said Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had

occurred. Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened.

"Good heavens!" she cried, "he has followed me, then."

"So it appears."

"He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What

will he say when he returns?"

"He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone

more cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself

up from him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to

your aunt's at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our

time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to

examine."

The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high

central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab,

thrown out on each side. In one of these wings the windows were

broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly

caved in, a picture of ruin. The central portion was in little

better repair, but the right-hand block was comparatively modern,

and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up

from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided.

Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the

stone-work had been broken into, but there were no signs of any

workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked slowly up and

down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the

outsides of the windows.

"This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep,

the centre one to your sister's, and the one next to the main

building to Dr. Roylott's chamber?"

"Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one."

"Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does

not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end

wall."

"There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from

my room."

"Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow

wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There

are windows in it, of course?"

"Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass

through."

"As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were

unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness

to go into your room and bar your shutters?"

Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination

through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the

shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through

which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then with his

lens he tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built

firmly into the massive masonry. "Hum!" said he, scratching his

chin in some perplexity, "my theory certainly presents some

difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were

bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon

the matter."

A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which

the three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third

chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss

Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her

fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a

gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A

brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow

white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table on the

left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small

wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save

for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and

the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old

and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building

of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat

silent, while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down,

taking in every detail of the apartment.

"Where does that bell communicate with?" he asked at last

pointing to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the

tassel actually lying upon the pillow.

"It goes to the housekeeper's room."

"It looks newer than the other things?"

"Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago."

"Your sister asked for it, I suppose?"

"No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we

wanted for ourselves."

"Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there.

You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to

this floor." He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in

his hand and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining

minutely the cracks between the boards. Then he did the same with

the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he

walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and

in running his eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the

bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug.

"Why, it's a dummy," said he.

"Won't it ring?"

"No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting.

You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where

the little opening for the ventilator is."

"How very absurd! I never noticed that before."

"Very strange!" muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. "There are

one or two very singular points about this room. For example,

what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another

room, when, with the same trouble, he might have communicated

with the outside air!"

"That is also quite modern," said the lady.

"Done about the same time as the bell-rope?" remarked Holmes.

"Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that

time."

"They seem to have been of a most interesting character--dummy

bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your

permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into

the inner apartment."

Dr. Grimesby Roylott's chamber was larger than that of his

step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small

wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an

armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a

round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things

which met the eye. Holmes walked slowly round and examined each

and all of them with the keenest interest.

"What's in here?" he asked, tapping the safe.

"My stepfather's business papers."

"Oh! you have seen inside, then?"

"Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of

papers."

"There isn't a cat in it, for example?"

"No. What a strange idea!"

"Well, look at this!" He took up a small saucer of milk which

stood on the top of it.

"No; we don't keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon."

"Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a

saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I

daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine." He

squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat

of it with the greatest attention.

"Thank you. That is quite settled," said he, rising and putting

his lens in his pocket. "Hullo! Here is something interesting!"

The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on

one corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself

and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord.

"What do you make of that, Watson?"

"It's a common enough lash. But I don't know why it should be

tied."

"That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it's a wicked world,

and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst

of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and

with your permission we shall walk out upon the lawn."

I had never seen my friend's face so grim or his brow so dark as

it was when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We

had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss

Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he

roused himself from his reverie.

"It is very essential, Miss Stoner," said he, "that you should

absolutely follow my advice in every respect."

"I shall most certainly do so."

"The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may

depend upon your compliance."

"I assure you that I am in your hands."

"In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in

your room."

Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment.

"Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the

village inn over there?"

"Yes, that is the Crown."

"Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?"

"Certainly."

"You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a

headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him

retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your window,

undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then

withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want

into the room which you used to occupy. I have no doubt that, in

spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one night."

"Oh, yes, easily."

"The rest you will leave in our hands."

"But what will you do?"

"We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate

the cause of this noise which has disturbed you."

"I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,"

said Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion's sleeve.

"Perhaps I have."

"Then, for pity's sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister's

death."

"I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak."

"You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and

if she died from some sudden fright."

"No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more

tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if

Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain.

Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you,

you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers

that threaten you."

Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and

sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and

from our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and

of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw

Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside

the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had some

slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard

the hoarse roar of the doctor's voice and saw the fury with which

he shook his clinched fists at him. The trap drove on, and a few

minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as

the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms.

"Do you know, Watson," said Holmes as we sat together in the

gathering darkness, "I have really some scruples as to taking you

to-night. There is a distinct element of danger."

"Can I be of assistance?"

"Your presence might be invaluable."

"Then I shall certainly come."

"It is very kind of you."

"You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms

than was visible to me."

"No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine

that you saw all that I did."

"I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose

that could answer I confess is more than I can imagine."

"You saw the ventilator, too?"

"Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to

have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a

rat could hardly pass through."

"I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to

Stoke Moran."

"My dear Holmes!"

"Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her

sister could smell Dr. Roylott's cigar. Now, of course that

suggested at once that there must be a communication between the

two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been

remarked upon at the coroner's inquiry. I deduced a ventilator."

"But what harm can there be in that?"

"Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A

ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the

bed dies. Does not that strike you?"

"I cannot as yet see any connection."

"Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?"

"No."

"It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened

like that before?"

"I cannot say that I have."

"The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same

relative position to the ventilator and to the rope--or so we may

call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull."

"Holmes," I cried, "I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at.