The Adventure of the Cardboard Box (4 page)

"'It was only a little thing, too. I had come into the parlour
unexpected, and as I walked in at the door I saw a light of welcome on
my wife's face. But as she saw who it was it faded again, and she
turned away with a look of disappointment. That was enough for me.
There was no one but Alec Fairbairn whose step she could have mistaken
for mine. If I could have seen him then I should have killed him, for
I have always been like a madman when my temper gets loose. Mary saw
the devil's light in my eyes, and she ran forward with her hands on my
sleeve. "Don't, Jim, don't!" says she. "Where's Sarah?" I asked. "In
the kitchen," says she. "Sarah," says I as I went in, "this man
Fairbairn is never to darken my door again." "Why not?" says she.
"Because I order it." "Oh!" says she, "if my friends are not good
enough for this house, then I am not good enough for it either." "You
can do what you like," says I, "but if Fairbairn shows his face here
again I'll send you one of his ears for a keepsake." She was
frightened by my face, I think, for she never answered a word, and the
same evening she left my house.

"'Well, I don't know now whether it was pure devilry on the part of
this woman, or whether she thought that she could turn me against my
wife by encouraging her to misbehave. Anyway, she took a house just
two streets off and let lodgings to sailors. Fairbairn used to stay
there, and Mary would go round to have tea with her sister and him.
How often she went I don't know, but I followed her one day, and as I
broke in at the door Fairbairn got away over the back garden wall, like
the cowardly skunk that he was. I swore to my wife that I would kill
her if I found her in his company again, and I led her back with me,
sobbing and trembling, and as white as a piece of paper. There was no
trace of love between us any longer. I could see that she hated me and
feared me, and when the thought of it drove me to drink, then she
despised me as well.

"'Well, Sarah found that she could not make a living in Liverpool, so
she went back, as I understand, to live with her sister in Croydon, and
things jogged on much the same as ever at home. And then came this
week and all the misery and ruin.

"'It was in this way. We had gone on the May Day for a round voyage of
seven days, but a hogshead got loose and started one of our plates, so
that we had to put back into port for twelve hours. I left the ship
and came home, thinking what a surprise it would be for my wife, and
hoping that maybe she would be glad to see me so soon. The thought was
in my head as I turned into my own street, and at that moment a cab
passed me, and there she was, sitting by the side of Fairbairn, the two
chatting and laughing, with never a thought for me as I stood watching
them from the footpath.

"'I tell you, and I give you my word for it, that from that moment I
was not my own master, and it is all like a dim dream when I look back
on it. I had been drinking hard of late, and the two things together
fairly turned my brain. There's something throbbing in my head now,
like a docker's hammer, but that morning I seemed to have all Niagara
whizzing and buzzing in my ears.

"'Well, I took to my heels, and I ran after the cab. I had a heavy oak
stick in my hand, and I tell you I saw red from the first; but as I ran
I got cunning, too, and hung back a little to see them without being
seen. They pulled up soon at the railway station. There was a good
crowd round the booking-office, so I got quite close to them without
being seen. They took tickets for New Brighton. So did I, but I got
in three carriages behind them. When we reached it they walked along
the Parade, and I was never more than a hundred yards from them. At
last I saw them hire a boat and start for a row, for it was a very hot
day, and they thought, no doubt, that it would be cooler on the water.

"'It was just as if they had been given into my hands. There was a bit
of a haze, and you could not see more than a few hundred yards. I
hired a boat for myself, and I pulled after them. I could see the blur
of their craft, but they were going nearly as fast as I, and they must
have been a long mile from the shore before I caught them up. The haze
was like a curtain all round us, and there were we three in the middle
of it. My God, shall I ever forget their faces when they saw who was
in the boat that was closing in upon them? She screamed out. He swore
like a madman and jabbed at me with an oar, for he must have seen death
in my eyes. I got past it and got one in with my stick that crushed
his head like an egg. I would have spared her, perhaps, for all my
madness, but she threw her arms round him, crying out to him, and
calling him "Alec." I struck again, and she lay stretched beside him.
I was like a wild beast then that had tasted blood. If Sarah had been
there, by the Lord, she should have joined them. I pulled out my
knife, and—well, there! I've said enough. It gave me a kind of savage
joy when I thought how Sarah would feel when she had such signs as
these of what her meddling had brought about. Then I tied the bodies
into the boat, stove a plank, and stood by until they had sunk. I knew
very well that the owner would think that they had lost their bearings
in the haze, and had drifted off out to sea. I cleaned myself up, got
back to land, and joined my ship without a soul having a suspicion of
what had passed. That night I made up the packet for Sarah Cushing,
and next day I sent it from Belfast.

"'There you have the whole truth of it. You can hang me, or do what
you like with me, but you cannot punish me as I have been punished
already. I cannot shut my eyes but I see those two faces staring at
me—staring at me as they stared when my boat broke through the haze.
I killed them quick, but they are killing me slow; and if I have
another night of it I shall be either mad or dead before morning. You
won't put me alone into a cell, sir? For pity's sake don't, and may
you be treated in your day of agony as you treat me now.'

"What is the meaning of it, Watson?" said Holmes solemnly as he laid
down the paper. "What object is served by this circle of misery and
violence and fear? It must tend to some end, or else our universe is
ruled by chance, which is unthinkable. But what end? There is the
great standing perennial problem to which human reason is as far from
an answer as ever."