The Adventures and Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes (65 page)

‘ “D'you mean to say those are mine?” he cried.

‘They were certainly very much larger than any which he could have made, and were evidently quite fresh. It rained hard this afternoon, as you know, and my patients were the only people who called. It must have been the case, then, that the man in the waiting-room had for some unknown reason, while I was busy with the other, ascended to the room of my resident patient. Nothing had been touched or taken, but there were the footprints to prove that the intrusion was an undoubted fact.

‘Mr Blessington seemed more excited over the matter than I should have thought possible, though, of course, it was enough to disturb anybody's peace of mind. He actually sat crying in an armchair, and I could hardly get him to speak coherently. It was his suggestion that I should come round to you, and of course I at once saw the propriety of it, for certainly the incident is a very singular one, though he appears to completely overrate its importance. If you would only come back with me in my brougham,
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you would at least be able to soothe him, though I can hardly hope that you will be able to explain this remarkable occurrence.'

Sherlock Holmes had listened to this long narrative with an intentness which showed me that his interest was keenly aroused. His face was as impassive as ever, but his lids had dropped more heavily over his eyes, and his smoke had curled up more thickly from his pipe to emphasize each curious episode in the doctor's tale. As our visitor concluded Holmes sprang up without a word, handed me my hat, picked up his own from the table, and followed Dr Trevelyan to the door. Within a quarter of an hour we had been dropped at the door of the physician's residence in Brook Street, one of those sombre, flat-faced houses which one associates with a West End practice. A small page admitted us, and we began at once to ascend the broad, well-carpeted stair.

But a singular interruption brought us to a standstill. The light at the top was suddenly whisked out, and from the darkness came a reedy, quavering voice.

‘I have a pistol,' it cried; ‘I give you my word that I'll fire if you come any nearer.'

‘This really grows outrageous, Mr Blessington,' cried Dr Trevelyan.

‘Oh, then it is you, Doctor?' said the voice, with a great heave of relief. ‘But those other gentlemen, are they what they pretend to be?'

We were conscious of a long scrutiny out of the darkness.

‘Yes, yes, it's all right,' said the voice at last. ‘You can come up, and I am sorry if my precautions have annoyed you.'

He re-lit the stair gas as he spoke, and we saw before us a singular-looking man, whose appearance, as well as his voice, testified to his jangled nerves. He was very fat, but had apparently at some time been much fatter, so that the skin hung about his face in loose pouches, like the cheeks of a bloodhound. He was of a sickly colour, and his thin, sandy hair seemed to bristle up with the intensity of his emotion. In his hand he held a pistol, but he thrust it into his pocket as we advanced.

‘Good evening, Mr Holmes,' said he; ‘I am sure I am very much obliged to you for coming round. No one ever needed your advice more than I do. I suppose that Dr Trevelyan has told you of this most unwarrantable intrusion into my rooms?'

‘Quite so,' said Holmes. ‘Who are these two men, Mr Blessington, and why do they wish to molest you?'

‘Well, well,' said the resident patient, in a nervous fashion, ‘of course it is hard to say that. You can hardly expect me to answer that, Mr Holmes.'

‘Do you mean that you don't know?'

‘Come in here, if you please. Just have the kindness to step in here.'

He led the way into his bedroom, which was large and comfortably furnished.

‘You see that?' said he, pointing to a big black box at the end of his bed. ‘I have never been a very rich man, Mr Holmes – never made but one investment in my life, as Dr Trevelyan would tell you. But I don't believe in bankers. I would never trust a banker, Mr Holmes. Between ourselves, what little I have is in that box, so you can understand what it means to me when unknown people force themselves into my rooms.'

Holmes looked at Blessington in his questioning way, and shook his head.

‘I cannot possibly advise you if you try to deceive me,' said he.

‘But I have told you everything.'

Holmes turned on his heel with a gesture of disgust. ‘Good night, Dr Trevelyan,' said he.

‘And no advice for me?' cried Blessington, in a breaking voice.

‘My advice to you, sir, is to speak the truth.'

A minute later we were in the street and walking for home. We had crossed Oxford Street,
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and were half-way down Harley Street before I could get a word from my companion.

‘Sorry to bring you out on such a fool's errand, Watson,' he said, at last. ‘It is an interesting case, too, at the bottom of it.'

‘I can make little of it,' I confessed.

‘Well, it is quite evident that there are two men – more, perhaps, but at least two – who are determined for some reason to get at this fellow, Blessing ton. I have no doubt in my mind that both on the first and on the second occasion that young man penetrated to Blessington's room, while his confederate, by an ingenious device, kept the doctor from interfering.'

‘And the catalepsy!'

‘A fraudulent imitation, Watson, though I should hardly dare to hint as much to our specialist. It is a very easy complaint to imitate. I have done it myself.'

‘And then?'

‘By the purest chance Blessington was out on each occasion. Their reason for choosing so unusual an hour for a consultation was obviously to ensure that there should be no other patient in the waiting-room. It just happened, however, that this hour coincided with Blessington's constitutional, which seems to show that they were not very well acquainted with his daily routine. Of course, if they had been merely after plunder they would at least have made some attempt to search for it. Besides, I can read in a man's eye when it is his own skin that he is frightened for. It is inconceivable that this fellow could have made two such vindictive enemies as these appear to be without knowing of it. I hold it, therefore, to be certain that he does know who these men are, and that for reasons of his own he suppresses it. It is just possible that tomorrow may find him in a more communicative mood.'

‘Is there not one alternative,' I suggested, ‘grotesquely improbable, no doubt, but still just conceivable? Might the whole story of the cataleptic Russian and his son be a concoction of Dr Trevelyan's, who has, for his own purposes, been in Blessington's rooms?'

I saw in the gaslight that Holmes wore an amused smile at this brilliant departure of mine.

‘My dear fellow,' said he, ‘it was one of the first solutions which occurred to me, but I was soon able to corroborate the doctor's tale. This young man has left prints upon the stair carpet which made it quite superfluous for me to ask to see those which he had made in the room. When I tell you that his shoes were square-toed, instead of being pointed like Blessington's, and were quite an inch and a third longer than the doctor's, you will acknowledge that there can be no doubt as to his individuality. But we may sleep on it now, for I shall be surprised if we do not hear something further from Brook Street in the morning.'

Sherlock Holmes's prophecy was soon fulfilled, and in a dramatic fashion. At half-past seven next morning, in the first glimmer of daylight, I found him standing by my bedside in his dressing-gown.

‘There's a brougham waiting for us, Watson,' said he.

‘What's the matter, then?'

‘The Brook Street business.'

‘Any fresh news?'

‘Tragic, but ambiguous,' said he, pulling up the blind. ‘Look at this – a sheet from a notebook with “For God's sake, come at once – P.T.” scrawled upon it in pencil. Our friend the doctor was hard put to it when he wrote this. Come along, my dear fellow, for it's an urgent call.'

In a quarter of an hour or so we were back at the physician's house. He came running out to meet us with a face of horror.

‘Oh, such a business!' he cried, with his hands to his temples.

‘What, then?'

‘Blessington has committed suicide!'

Holmes whistled.

‘Yes, he hanged himself during the night!'

We had entered, and the doctor had preceded us into what was evidently his waiting-room.

‘I really hardly know what I am doing,' he cried. ‘The police are already upstairs. It has shaken me most dreadfully.'

‘When did you find it out?'

‘He has a cup of tea taken to him early every morning. When the maid entered about seven, there the unfortunate fellow was hanging in the middle of the room. He had tied his cord to the hook on which the heavy lamp used to hang, and he had jumped off from the top of the very box that he showed us yesterday.'

Holmes stood for a moment in deep thought.

‘With your permission,' said he at last, ‘I should like to go upstairs and look into the matter.' We both ascended, followed by the doctor.

It was a dreadful sight which met us as we entered the bedroom door. I have spoken of the impression of flabbiness which this man Blessington conveyed. As he dangled from the hook it was exaggerated and intensified until he was scarce human in his appearance. The neck was drawn out like a plucked chicken's, making the rest of him seem the more obese and unnatural by the contrast. He was clad only in his long night-dress, and his swollen ankles and ungainly feet protruded starkly from beneath it. Beside him stood a smart-looking police inspector, who was taking notes in a pocket-book.

‘Ah, Mr Holmes,' said he, as my friend entered. ‘I am delighted to see you.'

‘Good morning, Lanner,' answered Holmes. ‘You won't think me an intruder, I am sure. Have you heard of the events which led up to this affair?'

‘Yes, I heard something of them.'

‘Have you formed any opinion?'

‘As far as I can see, the man has been driven out of his senses by fright. The bed has been well slept in, you see. There's his impression deep enough. It's about five in the morning, you know, that suicides are most common. That would be about his time for hanging himself. It seems to have been a very deliberate affair.'

‘I should say that he has been dead about three hours, judging by the rigidity of the muscles,' said I.

‘Noticed anything peculiar about the room?' asked Holmes.

‘Found a screwdriver and some screws on the wash-hand stand.
Seems to have smoked heavily during the night, too. Here are four

cigar ends that I picked out of the fireplace.'

‘Hum!' said Holmes. ‘Have you got his cigar-holder?'

‘No, I have seen none.'

‘His cigar-case, then?'

‘Yes, it was in his coat-pocket.'

Holmes opened it and smelled the single cigar which it contained.

‘Oh, this is a Havana, and these others are cigars of the peculiar sort which are imported by the Dutch from their East Indian colonies. They are usually wrapped in straw, you know, and are thinner for their length than any other brand.' He picked up the four ends and examined them with his pocket-lens.

‘Two of these have been smoked from a holder and two without,' said he. ‘Two have been cut by a not very sharp knife, and two have had the ends bitten off by a set of excellent teeth. This is no suicide, Mr Lanner. It is a very deeply planned and cold-blooded murder.'

‘Impossible!' cried the inspector.

‘And why?'

‘Why should anyone murder a man in so clumsy a fashion as by hanging him?'

‘That is what we have to find out.'

‘How could they get in?'

‘Through the front door.'

‘It was barred in the morning.'

‘Then it was barred after them.'

‘How do you know?'

‘I saw their traces. Excuse me a moment, and I may be able to give you some further information about it.'

He went over to the door, and turning the lock he examined it in his methodical fashion. Then he took out the key, which was on the inside, and inspected that also. The bed, the carpet, the chairs, the mantelpiece, the dead body, and the rope were each in turn examined, until at last he professed himself satisfied, and with my aid and that of the inspector cut down the wretched object, and laid it reverently under a sheet.

‘How about this rope?' he asked.

‘It is cut off this,' said Dr Trevelyan, drawing a large coil from under the bed. ‘He was morbidly nervous of fire, and always kept this beside him, so that he might escape by the window in case the stairs were burning.'

‘That must have saved them trouble,' said Holmes thoughtfully. ‘Yes, the actual facts are very plain, and I shall be surprised if by the afternoon I cannot give you the reasons for them as well. I will take this photograph of Blessington which I see upon the mantelpiece, as it may help me in my inquiries.'

‘But you have told us nothing,' cried the doctor.

‘Oh, there can be no doubt as to the sequence of events,' said Holmes. ‘There were three of them in it: the young man, the old man, and a third to whose identity I have no clue. The first two, I need hardly remark, are the same who masqueraded as the Russian Count and his son, so we can give a very full description of them. They were admitted by a confederate inside the house. If I might offer you a word of advice, Inspector, it would be to arrest the page, who, as I understand, has only recently come into your service, Doctor.'

‘The young imp cannot be found,' said Dr Trevelyan; ‘the maid and the cook have just been searching for him.'

Holmes shrugged his shoulders.

‘He has played a not unimportant part in this drama,' said he. ‘The three men having ascended the stair, which they did on tip-toe, the elder man first, the younger man second, and the unknown man in the rear—'