Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes A CASE OF IDENTITY

"MY DEAR fellow," said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of thefire in his lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitely stranger thananything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare toconceive the things which are [191] really mere commonplaces ofexistence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover overthis great city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer thingswhich are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the crosspurposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through generations,and leading to the most outre results, it would make all fiction with itsconventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable.""And yet I am not convinced of it," I answered. "The cases which cometo light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and vulgar enough. Wehave in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, and yet theresult is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic.""A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a realisticeffect," remarked Holmes. "This is wanting in the police report, wheremore stress is laid, perhaps, upon the platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details, which to an observer contain the vital essence of thewhole matter. Depend upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as thecommonplace."I smiled and shook my head. "I can quite understand your thinking so,"I said. "Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser and helper toeverybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout three continents, youare brought in contact with all that is strange and bizarre. But here"-Ipicked up the morning paper from the ground-"let us put it to a practicaltest. Here is the first heading upon which I come. 'A husband's cruelty tohis wife.' There is half a column of print, but I know without reading itthat it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, of course, the other woman,the drink, the push, the blow, the bruise, the sympathetic sister orlandlady. The crudest of writers could invent nothing more crude.""Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument," saidHolmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. "This is theDundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged in clearing upsome small points in connection with it. The husband was a teetotaler,there was no other woman, and the conduct complained of was that hehad drifted into the habit of winding up every meal by taking out his falseteeth and hurling them at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an actionlikely to occur to the imagination of the average story-teller. Take a pinchof snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over you in yourexample."He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in the centreof the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his homely ways andsimple life that I could not help commenting upon it."Ah," said he, "I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. It is alittle souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my assistance in thecase of the Irene Adler papers.""And the ring?" I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant whichsparkled upon his finger."It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in whichI served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even to you,who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of my littleproblems.""And have you any on hand just now?" I asked with interest."Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of interest.They are important, you understand, without being interesting. Indeed, Ihave found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field forthe observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which givesthe charm to an investigation. [192] The larger crimes are apt to be thesimpler, for the bigger the crime the more obvious, as a rule, is themotive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter which has beenreferred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing which presents anyfeatures of interest. It is possible, however, that I may have somethingbetter before very many minutes are over, for this is one of my clients, orI am much mistaken."He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted blinds,gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood a large womanwith a heavy fur boa round her neck, and a large curling red feather in abroad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess ofDevonshire fashion over her ear. From under this great panoply shepeeped up in a nervous, hesitating fashion at our windows, while her bodyoscillated backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her glovebuttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves the bank,she hurried across the road, and we heard the sharp clang of the bell."I have seen those symptoms before," said Holmes, throwing hiscigarette into the fire. "Oscillation upon the pavement always means anaffaire de coeur. She would like advice, but is not sure that the matter isnot too delicate for communication. And yet even here we maydiscriminate. When a woman has been seriously wronged by a man sheno longer oscillates, and the usual symptom is a broken bell wire. Herewe may take it that there is a love matter, but that the maiden is not somuch angry as perplexed, or grieved. But here she comes in person toresolve our doubts."As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons enteredto announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself loomed behindhis small black figure like a full-sailed merchant-man behind a tiny pilotboat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed her with the easy courtesy for which hewas remarkable, and, having closed the door and bowed her into anarmchair, he looked her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashionwhich was peculiar to him."Do you not find," he said, "that with your short sight it is a little tryingto do so much typewriting?" "I did at first," she answered, "but now I know where the letters arewithout looking." Then, suddenly realizing the full purport of his words,she gave a violent start and looked up, with fear and astonishment uponher broad, good-humoured face. "You've heard about me, Mr. Holmes,"she cried, "else how could you know all that?""Never mind," said Holmes, laughing; "it is my business to knowthings. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others overlook. If not,why should you come to consult me?""I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege, whosehusband you found so easy when the police and everyone had given himup for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do as much for me. I'mnot rich, but still I have a hundred a year in my own right, besides thelittle that I make by the machine, and I would give it all to know what hasbecome of Mr. Hosmer Angel.""Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?" askedSherlock Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his eyes to the ceiling.Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of MissMary Sutherland. "Yes, I did bang out of the house," she said, "for itmade me angry to see the easy way in which Mr. Windibank-that is, myfather-took it all. He would not [193] go to the police, and he would notgo to you, and so at last, as he would do nothing and kept on saying thatthere was no harm done, it made me mad, and I just on with my thingsand came right away to you.""Your father," said Holmes, "your stepfather, surely, since the name isdifferent.""Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny, too, forhe is only five years and two months older than myself.""And your mother is alive?""Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn't best pleased, Mr. Holmes,when she married again so soon after father's death, and a man who wasnearly fifteen years younger than herself. Father was a plumber in theTottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy business behind him, whichmother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the foreman; but when Mr. Windibankcame he made her sell the business, for he was very superior, being atraveller in wines. They got £4700 for the goodwill and interest, whichwasn't near as much as father could have got if he had been alive."I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this ramblingand inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he had listened withthe greatest concentration of attention."Your own little income," he asked, "does it come out of the business?""Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle Ned inAuckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4½ per cent. Two thousandfive hundred pounds was the amount, but I can only touch the interest.""You interest me extremely," said Holmes. "And since you draw solarge a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the bargain, youno doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in every way. I believe that asingle lady can get on very nicely upon an income of about £60.""I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you understandthat as long as I live at home I don't wish to be a burden to them, and so they have the use of the money just while I am staying with them. Ofcourse, that is only just for the time. Mr. Windibank draws my interestevery quarter and pays it over to mother, and I find that I can do prettywell with what I earn at typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet, and Ican often do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day.""You have made your position very clear to me," said Holmes. "This ismy friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as beforemyself. Kindly tell us now all about your connection with Mr. HosmerAngel."A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face, and she picked nervously atthe fringe of her jacket. "I met him first at the gasfitters' ball," she said."They used to send father tickets when he was alive, and then afterwardsthey remembered us, and sent them to mother. Mr. Windibank did notwish us to go. He never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quitemad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time Iwas set on going, and I would go; for what right had he to prevent? Hesaid the folk were not fit for us to know, when all father's friends were tobe there. And he said that I had nothing fit to wear, when I had my purpleplush that I had never so much as taken out of the drawer. At last, whennothing else would do, he went off to France upon the business of thefirm, but we went, mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be ourforeman, and it was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel.""I suppose," said Holmes, "that when Mr. Windibank came back from France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball."[194] "Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember,and shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denying anythingto a woman, for she would have her way.""I see. Then at the gasfitters' ball you met, as I understand, a gentlemancalled Mr. Hosmer Angel.""Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if we hadgot home all safe, and after that we met him-that is to say, Mr. Holmes, Imet him twice for walks, but after that father came back again, and Mr.Hosmer Angel could not come to the house any more.""No?""Well, you know, father didn't like anything of the sort. He wouldn'thave any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a womanshould be happy in her own family circle. But then, as I used to say tomother, a woman wants her own circle to begin with, and I had not gotmine yet.""But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to seeyou?""Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmerwrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each other untilhe had gone. We could write in the meantime, and he used to write everyday. I took the letters in in the morning, so there was no need for father toknow.""Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?""Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that wetook. Hosmer-Mr. Angel-was a cashier in an office in LeadenhallStreet-and- -""What office?""That's the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don't know.""Where did he live, then?""He slept on the premises.""And you don't know his address?""No-except that it was Leadenhall Street.""Where did you address your letters, then?""To the Leadenhall Street Post-Office, to be left till called for. He saidthat if they were sent to the office he would be chaffed by all the otherclerks about having letters from a lady, so I offered to typewrite them,like he did his, but he wouldn't have that, for he said that when I wrotethem they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten healways felt that the machine had come between us. That will just showyou how fond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that hewould think of.""It was most suggestive," said Holmes. "It has long been an axiom ofmine that the little things are infinitely the most important. Can youremember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?""He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me inthe evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to beconspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice wasgentle. He'd had the quinsy and swollen glands when he was young, he told me, and it had left him with a weak throat, and a hesitating,whispering fashion of speech. He was always well dressed, very neat andplain, but his eyes were weak, just as mine are, and he wore tinted glassesagainst the glare.""Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather,returned to France?""Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that weshould marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest andmade me swear, with [195] my hands on the Testament, that whateverhappened I would always be true to him. Mother said he was quite right tomake me swear, and that it was a sign of his passion. Mother was all inhis favour from the first and was even fonder of him than I was. Then,when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask aboutfather; but they both said never to mind about father, but just to tell himafterwards, and mother said she would make it all right with him. I didn'tquite like that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave, ashe was only a few years older than me; but I didn't want to do anythingon the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where the company has itsFrench offices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of thewedding.""It missed him, then?""Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived.""Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for theFriday. Was it to be in church?""Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour's, near King'sCross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras Hotel.Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were two of us he put usboth into it and stepped himself into a four-wheeler, which happened tobe the only other cab in the street. We got to the church first, and whenthe four-wheeler drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, and when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was noone there! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had becomeof him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That was lastFriday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything since then tothrow any light upon what became of him.""It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated," saidHolmes."Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all themorning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true;and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I wasalways to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would claimhis pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning,but what has happened since gives a meaning to it.""Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that someunforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?""Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he would nothave talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened.""But you have no notion as to what it could have been?""None.""One more question. How did your mother take the matter?""She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again.""And your father? Did you tell him?""Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened,and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest couldanyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then leavingme? Now, if he had borrowed my money, or if he had married me and gotmy money settled on him, there might be some reason, but Hosmer wasvery independent about money and never would look at a shilling ofmine. And yet, what could have happened? And why could he not write?Oh, it drives me half-mad to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink at night."She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob heavilyinto it."I shall glance into the case for you," said Holmes, rising, "and I haveno doubt [196] that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight ofthe matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon itfurther. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from yourmemory, as he has done from your life.""Then you don't think I'll see him again?""I fear not.""Then what has happened to him?""You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accuratedescription of him and any letters of his which you can spare.""I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle," said she. "Here isthe slip and here are four letters from him.""Thank you. And your address?""No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell.""Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is yourfather's place of business?""He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers of Fenchurch Street.""Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You willleave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you.Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect yourlife.""You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true toHosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back."For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was somethingnoble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. Shelaid her little bundle of papers upon the table and went her way, with apromise to come again whenever she might be summoned.Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his finger-tips stillpressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his gazedirected upward to the ceiling. Then he took down from the rack the oldand oily clay pipe, which was to him as a counsellor, and, having lit it, heleaned back in his chair, with the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning upfrom him, and a look of infinite languor in his face."Quite an interesting study, that maiden," he observed. "I found hermore interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather atrite one. You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, inAndover in '77, and there was something of the sort at The Hague lastyear. Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which were new to me. But the maiden herself was most instructive.""You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisibleto me," I remarked."Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look,and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to realizethe importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, or the greatissues that may hang from a boot-lace. Now, what did you gather fromthat woman's appearance? Describe it.""Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with afeather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads sewnupon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her dress was brown,rather darker than coffee colour, with a little purple plush at the neck andsleeves. Her gloves were grayish and were worn through at the rightforefinger. Her boots I didn't observe. She had [197] small round, hanginggold earrings, and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar,comfortable, easy-going way."Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled."'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You havereally done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed everything ofimportance, but you have hit upon the method, and you have a quick eyefor colour. Never trust to general impressions, my boy, but concentrateyourself upon details. My first glance is always at a woman's sleeve. In aman it is perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As youobserve, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a most usefulmaterial for showing traces. The double line a little above the wrist,where the typewritist presses against the table, was beautifully defined.The sewing-machine, of the hand type, leaves a similar mark, but only onthe left arm, and on the side of it farthest from the thumb, instead of beingright across the broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and,observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I ventured aremark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed to surprise her.""It surprised me.""But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and interestedon glancing down to observe that, though the boots which she waswearing were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones; the onehaving a slightly decorated toe-cap, and the other a plain one. One wasbuttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other at thefirst, third, and fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwiseneatly dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned,it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry.""And what else?" I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by myfriend's incisive reasoning."I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving home butafter being fully dressed. You observed that her right glove was torn atthe forefinger, but you did not apparently see that both glove and fingerwere stained with violet ink. She had written in a hurry and dipped herpen too deep. It must have been this morning, or the mark would notremain clear upon the finger. All this is amusing, though ratherelementary, but I must go back to business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the advertised description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?"I held the little printed slip to the light."Missing [it said] on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentlemannamed Hosmer Angel. About five feet seven inches in height;strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in thecentre, bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tinted glasses,slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen, in blackfrock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert chain, andgray Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over elastic-sidedboots. Known to have been employed in an office in LeadenhallStreet. Anybody bringing--""That will do," said Holmes. "As to the letters," he continued, glancingover them, "they are very commonplace. Absolutely no clue in them toMr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There is one remarkablepoint, however, which will no doubt strike you.""They are typewritten," I remarked."Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the neat little[198] 'Hosmer Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, you see, but nosuperscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague. The pointabout the signature is very suggestive-in fact, we may call it conclusive.""Of what?""My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bearsupon the case?""I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able to denyhis signature if an action for breach of promise were instituted.""No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters, whichshould settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the other is to theyoung lady's stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking him whether he couldmeet us here at six o'clock to-morrow evening. It is just as well that weshould do business with the male relatives. And now, Doctor, we can donothing until the answers to those letters come, so we may put our littleproblem upon the shelf for the interim."I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powers ofreasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that he must havesome solid grounds for the assured and easy demeanour with which hetreated the singular mystery which he had been called upon to fathom.Once only had I known him to fail, in the case of the King of Bohemiaand of the Irene Adler photograph; but when I looked back to the weirdbusiness of 'The Sign of Four', and the extraordinary circumstancesconnected with 'A Study in Scarlet', I felt that it would be a strangetangle indeed which he could not unravel.I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the convictionthat when I came again on the next evening I would find that he held inhis hands all the clues which would lead up to the identity of thedisappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary Sutherland.A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention atthe time, and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon six o'clock that I found myself freeand was able to spring into a hansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraidthat I might be too late to assist at the denouement of the little mystery. Ifound Sherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thinform curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidable array ofbottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloricacid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was sodear to him."Well, have you solved it?" I asked as I entered."Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta.""No, no, the mystery!" I cried."Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. Therewas never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said yesterday, some ofthe details are of interest. The only drawback is that there is no law, I fear,that can touch the scoundrel.""Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting MissSutherland?"The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yetopened his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the passageand a tap at the door."This is the girl's stepfather, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "Hehas written to me to say that he would be here at six. Come in!"The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some thirtyyears of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a bland, insinuatingmanner, and a pair [199] of wonderfully sharp and penetrating gray eyes.He shot a questioning glance at each of us, placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a slight bow sidled down into the nearest chair."Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "I think that thistypewritten letter is from you, in which you made an appointment withme for six o'clock?""Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite my ownmaster, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland has troubled you aboutthis little matter, for I think it is far better not to wash linen of the sort inpublic. It was quite against my wishes that she came, but she is a veryexcitable, impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and she is not easilycontrolled when she has made up her mind on a point. Of course, I did notmind you so much, as you are not connected with the official police, but itis not pleasant to have a family misfortune like this noised abroad.Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could you possibly find thisHosmer Angel?""On the contrary," said Holmes quietly; "I have every reason to believethat I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel."Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. "I amdelighted to hear it," he said."It is a curious thing," remarked Holmes, "that a typewriter has reallyquite as much individuality as a man's handwriting. Unless they are quitenew, no two of them write exactly alike. Some letters get more worn thanothers, and some wear only on one side. Now, you remark in this note ofyours, Mr. Windibank, that in every case there is some little slurring overof the 'e,' and a slight defect in the tail of the 'r.' There are fourteen othercharacteristics, but those are the more obvious.""We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, and nodoubt it is a little worn," our visitor answered, glancing keenly at Holmeswith his bright little eyes."And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, Mr.Windibank," Holmes continued. "I think of writing another littlemonograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation to crime.It is a subject to which I have devoted some little attention. I have herefour letters which purport to come from the missing man. They are alltypewritten. In each case, not only are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's'tailless, but you will observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, thatthe fourteen other characteristics to which I have alluded are there aswell."Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. "I cannotwaste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes," he said. "If youcan catch the man, catch him, and let me know when you have done it.""Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in thedoor. "I let you know, then, that I have caught him!""What! where?" shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips andglancing about him like a rat in a trap."Oh, it won't do-really it won't," said Holmes suavely. "There is nopossible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too transparent, and itwas a very bad compliment when you said that it was impossible for meto solve so simple a question. That's right! Sit down and let us talk itover."[200] Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a glitterof moisture on his brow. "It-it's not actionable," he stammered."I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves,Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty wayas ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the course of events,and you will contradict me if I go wrong."The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon hisbreast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up on thecorner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands in his pockets,began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, than to us."The man married a woman very much older than himself for hermoney," said he, "and he enjoyed the use of the money of the daughter aslong as she lived with them. It was a considerable sum, for people in theirposition, and the loss of it would have made a serious difference. It wasworth an effort to preserve it. The daughter was of a good, amiabledisposition, but affectionate and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it wasevident that with her fair personal advantages, and her little income, shewould not be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage would mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does her stepfatherdo to prevent it? He takes the obvious course of keeping her at home andforbidding her to seek the company of people of her own age. But soon hefound that that would not answer forever. She became restive, insistedupon her rights, and finally announced her positive intention of going to acertain ball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives anidea more creditable to his head than to his heart. With the connivanceand assistance of his wife he disguised himself, covered those keen eyeswith tinted glasses, masked the face with a moustache and a pair of bushywhiskers, sunk that clear voice into an insinuating whisper, and doublysecure on account of the girl's short sight, he appears as Mr. HosmerAngel, and keeps off other lovers by making love himself.""It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor. "We never thought thatshe would have been so carried away.""Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was verydecidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her mind that herstepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery never for an instantentered her mind. She was flattered by the gentleman's attentions, and theeffect was increased by the loudly expressed admiration of her mother.Then Mr. Angel began to call, for it was obvious that the matter should bepushed as far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. Therewere meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the girl'saffections from turning towards anyone else. But the deception could notbe kept up forever. These pretended journeys to France were rathercumbrous. The thing to do was clearly to bring the business to an end insuch a dramatic manner that it would leave a permanent impression uponthe young lady's mind and prevent her from looking upon any other suitorfor some time to come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon aTestament, and hence also the allusions to a possibility of somethinghappening on the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wishedMiss Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as tohis fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, she would not listen toanother man. As far as the church door he brought her, and then, as hecould go no farther, he conveniently vanished away by the old trick [201]of stepping in at one door of a four-wheeler and out at the other. I thinkthat that was the chain of events, Mr. Windibank!"Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmeshad been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold sneer uponhis pale face."It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes," said he, "but if you are sovery sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is you who arebreaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing actionable fromthe first, but as long as you keep that door locked you lay yourself open toan action for assault and illegal constraint.""The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes, unlocking andthrowing open the door, "yet there never was a man who deservedpunishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a friend, he ought tolay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!" he continued, flushing up atthe sight of the bitter sneer upon the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to my client, but here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shalljust treat myself to- -" He took two swift steps to the whip, but before hecould grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs, the heavyhall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr. JamesWindibank running at the top of his speed down the road."There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes, laughing, as hethrew himself down into his chair once more. "That fellow will rise fromcrime to crime until he does something very bad, and ends on a gallows.The case has, in some respects, been not entirely devoid of interest.""I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," I remarked."Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. HosmerAngel must have some strong object for his curious conduct, and it wasequally clear that the only man who really profited by the incident, as faras we could see, was the stepfather. Then the fact that the two men werenever together, but that the one always appeared when the other wasaway, was suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice,which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My suspicionswere all confirmed by his peculiar action in typewriting his signature,which, of course, inferred that his handwriting was so familiar to her thatshe would recognize even the smallest sample of it. You see all theseisolated facts, together with many minor ones, all pointed in the samedirection.""And how did you verify them?""Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I knewthe firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed description, I eliminated everything from it which could be the result of a disguise-thewhiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I sent it to the firm, with a requestthat they would inform me whether it answered to the description of anyof their travellers. I had already noticed the peculiarities of the typewriter,and I wrote to the man himself at his business address, asking him if hewould come here. As I expected, his reply was typewritten and revealedthe same trivial but characteristic defects. The same post brought me aletter from Westhouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that thedescription tallied in every respect with that of their employee, JamesWindibank. Voila tout!""And Miss Sutherland?""If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the oldPersian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, anddanger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.' There is asmuch sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world."