Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY

WE WERE seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maidbrought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way:Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired forfrom the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valleytragedy. Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and sceneryperfect. Leave Paddington by the 11:15."What do you say, dear?" said my wife, looking across at me. "Willyou go?""I really don't know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present.""Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking alittle pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you arealways so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes's cases.""I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through oneof them," I answered. "But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for I haveonly half an hour."My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect ofmaking me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple,so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, rattlingaway to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and downthe platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by hislong gray travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap."It is really very good of you to come, Watson," said he. "It makes aconsiderable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I canthoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed. Ifyou will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets."We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of paperswhich Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged andread, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were pastReading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and tossedthem up onto the rack."Have you heard anything of the case?" he asked."Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days.""The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just beenlooking through all the recent papers in order to master the particulars. Itseems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are soextremely difficult.""That sounds a little paradoxical.""But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. Themore featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is tobring it home. In this case, however, they have established a very seriouscase against the son of the murdered man.""It is a murder, then?""Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted until Ihave the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will explain the stateof things to you, as far as I have been able to understand it, in a very fewwords.[203] "Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, inHerefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. JohnTurner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago tothe old country. One of the farms which he held, that of Hatherley, was letto Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men hadknown each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural that whenthey came to settle down they should do so as near each other as possible.Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his tenant butstill remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as they werefrequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of eighteen, and Turnerhad an only daughter of the same age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have avoided the society of the neighbouringEnglish families and to have led retired lives, though both the McCarthyswere fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of theneighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants-a man and a girl. Turner hada considerable household, some half-dozen at the least. That is as much asI have been able to gather about the families. Now for the facts."On June 3d, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house atHatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the BoscombePool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the streamwhich runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been out with his servingman in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he must hurry,as he had an appointment of importance to keep at three. From thatappointment he never came back alive."From Hatherley Farmhouse to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of amile, and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One was anold woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was WilliamCrowder, a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both thesewitnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The gamekeeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr. McCarthy pass hehad seen his son, Mr. James McCarthy, going the same way with a gununder his arm. To the best of his belief, the father was actually in sight atthe time, and the son was following him. He thought no more of thematter until he heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred."The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder,the game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thicklywooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge. Agirl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the lodge-keeperof the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking flowers.She states that while she was there she saw, at the border of the wood andclose by the lake, Mr. McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to behaving a violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using verystrong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his hand as if tostrike his father. She was so frightened by their violence that she ran awayand told her mother when she reached home that she had left the twoMcCarthys quarrelling near Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid thatthey were going to fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr.McCarthy came running up to the lodge to say that he had found hisfather dead in the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. Hewas much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right handand sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On followinghim they found the dead body stretched out upon the grass beside thepool. The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy andblunt weapon. The injuries were such as might very well have been [204]inflicted by the butt-end of his son's gun, which was found lying on thegrass within a few paces of the body. Under these circumstances theyoung man was instantly arrested, and a verdict of 'wilful murder' havingbeen returned at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday broughtbefore the magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the nextassizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out before the coroner and the police-court.""I could hardly imagine a more damning case," I remarked. "If evercircumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so here.""Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing," answered Holmesthoughtfully. "It may seem to point very straight to one thing, but if youshift your own point of view a little, you may find it pointing in anequally uncompromising manner to something entirely different. It mustbe confessed, however, that the case looks exceedingly grave against theyoung man, and it is very possible that he is indeed the culprit. There areseveral people in the neighbourhood, however, and among them MissTurner, the daughter of the neighbouring land-owner, who believe in hisinnocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect inconnection with 'A Study in Scarlet', to work out the case in his interest.Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the case to me, and hence it isthat two middle-aged gentlemen are flying westward at fifty miles an hourinstead of quietly digesting their breakfasts at home.""I am afraid," said I, "that the facts are so obvious that you will findlittle credit to be gained out of this case.""There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," he answered,laughing. "Besides, we may chance to hit upon some other obvious factswhich may have been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You knowme too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall eitherconfirm or destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of employing, or even of understanding. To take the first example to hand, Ivery clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the righthand side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have notedeven so self-evident a thing as that.""How on earth- -""My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness whichcharacterizes you. You shave every morning, and in this season you shaveby the sunlight; but since your shaving is less and less complete as we getfarther back on the left side, until it becomes positively slovenly as we getround the angle of the jaw, it is surely very clear that that side is lessilluminated than the other. I could not imagine a man of your habitslooking at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a result.I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and inference.Therein lies my métier, and it is just possible that it may be of someservice in the investigation which lies before us. There are one or twominor points which were brought out in the inquest, and which are worthconsidering.""What are they?""It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after the returnto Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary informing him thathe was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not surprised to hear it, andthat it was no more than his deserts. This observation of his had thenatural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might have remainedin the minds of the coroner's jury.""It was a confession," I ejaculated."No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence."[205] "Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was atleast a most suspicious remark.""On the contrary," said Holmes, "it is the brightest rift which I can atpresent see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, he could not besuch an absolute imbecile as not to see that the circumstances were veryblack against him. Had he appeared surprised at his own arrest, or feignedindignation at it, I should have looked upon it as highly suspicious,because such surprise or anger would not be natural under thecircumstances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to a schemingman. His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either aninnocent man, or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and firmness.As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not unnatural if youconsider that he stood beside the dead body of his father, and that there isno doubt that he had that very day so far forgotten his filial duty as tobandy words with him, and even, according to the little girl whoseevidence is so important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The selfreproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark appear to me tobe the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a guilty one."I shook my head. "Many men have been hanged on far slighterevidence," I remarked."So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged.""What is the young man's own account of the matter?""It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. You will find it here, andmay read it for yourself."He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper,and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in whichthe unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what hadoccurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read itvery carefully. It ran in this way:Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was thencalled and gave evidence as follows: "I had been away from homefor three days at Bristol, and had only just returned upon themorning of last Monday, the 3d. My father was absent from homeat the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that hehad driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the groom. Shortly aftermy return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and, lookingout of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out of theyard, though I was not aware in which direction he was going. Ithen took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the BoscombePool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit-warren which is uponthe other side. On my way I saw William Crowder, the gamekeeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but he is mistaken inthinking that I was following my father. I had no idea that he wasin front of me. When about a hundred yards from the pool I hearda cry of 'Cooee!' which was a usual signal between my father andmyself. I then hurried forward, and found him standing by thepool. He appeared to be much surprised at seeing me and asked merather roughly what I was doing there. A conversation ensuedwhich led to high words and almost to blows, for my father was aman of a very violent temper. Seeing that his passion wasbecoming ungovernable, I left him and returned towards HatherleyFarm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, however, [206] when Iheard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to run backagain. I found my father expiring upon the ground, with his headterribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in my arms, but healmost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for some minutes, andthen made my way to Mr. Turner's lodge-keeper, his house beingthe nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one near my fatherwhen I returned, and I have no idea how he came by his injuries.He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and forbidding inhis manners; but he had, as far as I know, no active enemies. Iknow nothing further of the matter."The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you beforehe died?Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch someallusion to a rat.The Coroner: What did you understand by that?Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he wasdelirious.The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and yourfather had this final quarrel?Witness: I should prefer not to answer.The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it.Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assureyou that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed.The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point outto you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your caseconsiderably in any future proceedings which may arise.Witness: I must still refuse.The Coroner: I understand that the cry of "Cooee" was acommon signal between you and your father?Witness: It was.The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he sawyou, and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol?Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know.A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicionswhen you returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatallyinjured?Witness: Nothing definite. The Coroner: What do you mean?Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into theopen, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet I havea vague impression that as I ran forward something lay upon theground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be something gray incolour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose frommy father I looked round for it, but it was gone."Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?""Yes, it was gone.""You cannot say what it was?""No, I had a feeling something was there.""How far from the body?""A dozen yards or so.""And how far from the edge of the wood?""About the same.""Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozenyards of it?"[207] "Yes, but with my back towards it."This concluded the examination of the witness."I see," said I as I glanced down the column, "that the coroner in hisconcluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. He callsattention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his father havingsignalled to him before seeing him, also to his refusal to give details of hisconversation with his father, and his singular account of his father's dyingwords. They are all, as he remarks, very much against the son."Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon thecushioned seat. "Both you and the coroner have been at some pains," saidhe, "to single out the very strongest points in the young man's favour.Don't you see that you alternately give him credit for having too muchimagination and too little? Too little, if he could not invent a cause ofquarrel which would give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if heevolved from his own inner consciousness anything so outre as a dyingreference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth. No, sir, I shallapproach this case from the point of view that what this young man saysis true, and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us. And nowhere is my pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this caseuntil we are on the scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see thatwe shall be there in twenty minutes."It was nearly four o'clock when we at last, after passing through thebeautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, foundourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A lean, ferret-like man,furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the platform. In spite ofthe light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which he wore in deferenceto his rustic surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognizing Lestrade, ofScotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a roomhad already been engaged for us."I have ordered a carriage," said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea. "Iknew your energetic nature, and that you would not be happy until you had been on the scene of the crime.""It was very nice and complimentary of you," Holmes answered. "It isentirely a question of barometric pressure."Lestrade looked startled. "I do not quite follow," he said."How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud in thesky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking, and the sofais very much superior to the usual country hotel abomination. I do notthink that it is probable that I shall use the carriage to-night."Lestrade laughed indulgently. "You have, no doubt, already formedyour conclusions from the newspapers," he said. "The case is as plain as apikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer it becomes. Still, ofcourse, one can't refuse a lady, and such a very positive one, too. She hadheard of you, and would have your opinion, though I repeatedly told herthat there was nothing which you could do which I had not already done.Why, bless my soul! here is her carriage at the door."He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the mostlovely young women that I have ever seen in my life. Her violet eyesshining, her lips parted, a pink flush upon her cheeks, all thought of hernatural reserve lost in her overpowering excitement and concern.[208] "Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" she cried, glancing from one to theother of us, and finally, with a woman's quick intuition, fastening uponmy companion, "I am so glad that you have come. I have driven down totell you so. I know that James didn't do it. I know it, and I want you tostart upon your work knowing it, too. Never let yourself doubt upon thatpoint. We have known each other since we were little children, and Iknow his faults as no one else does; but he is too tender-hearted to hurt afly. Such a charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him." "I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner," said Sherlock Holmes. "Youmay rely upon my doing all that I can.""But you have read the evidence. You have formed some conclusion?Do you not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not yourself think thathe is innocent?""I think that it is very probable.""There, now!" she cried, throwing back her head and looking defiantlyat Lestrade. "You hear! He gives me hopes."Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am afraid that my colleague hasbeen a little quick in forming his conclusions," he said."But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never did it. Andabout his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the reason why he wouldnot speak about it to the coroner was because I was concerned in it.""In what way?" asked Holmes."It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had manydisagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that thereshould be a marriage between us. James and I have always loved eachother as brother and sister; but of course he is young and has seen verylittle of life yet, and- and-well, he naturally did not wish to do anythinglike that yet. So there were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them.""And your father?" asked Holmes. "Was he in favour of such a union?""No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in favourof it." A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as Holmes shot oneof his keen, questioning glances at her."Thank you for this information," said he. "May I see your father if Icall to-morrow?""I am afraid the doctor won't allow it.""The doctor?""Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong for yearsback, but this has broken him down completely. He has taken to his bed, and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his nervous system isshattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive who had known dad inthe old days in Victoria.""Ha! In Victoria! That is important.""Yes, at the mines.""Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turner madehis money.""Yes, certainly.""Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to me.""You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt you willgo to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him thatI know him to be innocent.""I will, Miss Turner.""I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if I leavehim. [209] Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking." She hurriedfrom the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we heard the wheelsof her carriage rattle off down the street."I am ashamed of you, Holmes," said Lestrade with dignity after a fewminutes' silence. "Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound todisappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I call it cruel.""I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy," said Holmes."Have you an order to see him in prison?""Yes, but only for you and me.""Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have stilltime to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?""Ample.""Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, but Ishall only be away a couple of hours."I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through thestreets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I lay uponthe sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel. The punyplot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to the deepmystery through which we were groping, and I found my attention wander so continually from the fiction to the fact, that I at last flung itacross the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration of theevents of the day. Supposing that this unhappy young man's story wereabsolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely unforeseen andextraordinary calamity could have occurred between the time when heparted from his father, and the moment when, drawn back by his screams,he rushed into the glade? It was something terrible and deadly. Whatcould it be? Might not the nature of the injuries reveal something to mymedical instincts? I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper,which contained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon'sdeposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left parietal boneand the left half of the occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blowfrom a blunt weapon. I marked the spot upon my own head. Clearly sucha blow must have been struck from behind. That was to some extent infavour of the accused, as when seen quarrelling he was face to face withhis father. Still, it did not go for very much, for the older man might haveturned his back before the blow fell. Still, it might be worth while to callHolmes's attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dying reference to arat. What could that mean? It could not be delirium. A man dying from asudden blow does not commonly become delirious. No, it was more likelyto be an attempt to explain how he met his fate. But what could itindicate? I cudgelled my brains to find some possible explanation. Andthen the incident of the gray cloth seen by young McCarthy. If that weretrue the murderer must have dropped some part of his dress, presumablyhis overcoat, in his flight, and must have had the hardihood to return andto carry it away at the instant when the son was kneeling with his backturned not a dozen paces off. What a tissue of mysteries andimprobabilities the whole thing was! I did not wonder at Lestrade'sopinion, and yet I had so much faith in Sherlock Holmes's insight that Icould not lose hope as long as every fresh fact seemed to strengthen hisconviction of young McCarthy's innocence.It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone, forLestrade was staying in lodgings in the town."The glass still keeps very high," he remarked as he sat down. "It is of[210] importance that it should not rain before we are able to go over theground. On the other hand, a man should be at his very best and keenestfor such nice work as that, and I did not wish to do it when fagged by along journey. I have seen young McCarthy.""And what did you learn from him?""Nothing.""Could he throw no light?""None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew who haddone it and was screening him or her, but I am convinced now that he isas puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very quick-witted youth, thoughcomely to look at and, I should think, sound at heart.""I cannot admire his taste," I remarked, "if it is indeed a fact that hewas averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as this MissTurner.""Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow is madly, insanely, in love with her, but some two years ago, when he was only a lad, andbefore he really knew her, for she had been away five years at a boardingschool, what does the idiot do but get into the clutches of a barmaid inBristol and marry her at a registry office? No one knows a word of thematter, but you can imagine how maddening it must be to him to beupbraided for not doing what he would give his very eyes to do, but whathe knows to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer frenzy of this sortwhich made him throw his hands up into the air when his father, at theirlast interview, was goading him on to propose to Miss Turner. On theother hand, he had no means of supporting himself, and his father, whowas by all accounts a very hard man, would have thrown him over utterlyhad he known the truth. It was with his barmaid wife that he had spent thelast three days in Bristol, and his father did not know where he was. Markthat point. It is of importance. Good has come out of evil, however, forthe barmaid, finding from the papers that he is in serious trouble andlikely to be hanged, has thrown him over utterly and has written to him tosay that she has a husband already in the Bermuda Dockyard, so that thereis really no tie between them. I think that that bit of news has consoledyoung McCarthy for all that he has suffered.""But if he is innocent, who has done it?""Ah! who? I would call your attention very particularly to two points.One is that the murdered man had an appointment with someone at thepool, and that the someone could not have been his son, for his son wasaway, and he did not know when he would return. The second is that themurdered man was heard to cry 'Cooee!' before he knew that his son hadreturned. Those are the crucial points upon which the case depends. Andnow let us talk about George Meredith, if you please, and we shall leaveall minor matters until to-morrow."There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning brokebright and cloudless. At nine o'clock Lestrade called for us with thecarriage, and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe Pool."There is serious news this morning," Lestrade observed. "It is said thatMr. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that his life is despaired of.""An elderly man, I presume?" said Holmes."About sixty; but his constitution has been shattered by his life abroad,and he has been in failing health for some time. This business has had avery bad effect upon him. He was an old friend of McCarthy's, and, I mayadd, a great benefactor to him, for I have learned that he gave himHatherley Farm rent free."[211] "Indeed! That is interesting," said Holmes."Oh, yes! In a hundred other ways he has helped him. Everybody abouthere speaks of his kindness to him.""Really! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this McCarthy,who appears to have had little of his own, and to have been under suchobligations to Turner, should still talk of marrying his son to Turner'sdaughter, who is, presumably, heiress to the estate, and that in such a verycocksure manner, as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all elsewould follow? It is the more strange, since we know that Turner himselfwas averse to the idea. The daughter told us as much. Do you not deduce something from that?""We have got to the deductions and the inferences," said Lestrade,winking at me. "I find it hard enough to tackle facts, Holmes, withoutflying away after theories and fancies.""You are right," said Holmes demurely; "you do find it very hard totackle the facts.""Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it difficult toget hold of," replied Lestrade with some warmth."And that is- -""That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that alltheories to the contrary are the merest moonshine.""Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog," said Holmes, laughing."But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley Farm upon the left.""Yes, that is it." It was a widespread, comfortable-looking building,two-storied, slate-roofed, with great yellow blotches of lichen upon thegray walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys, however, gaveit a stricken look, as though the weight of this horror still lay heavy uponit. We called at the door, when the maid, at Holmes's request, showed usthe boots which her master wore at the time of his death, and also a pairof the son's, though not the pair which he had then had. Having measuredthese very carefully from seven or eight different points, Holmes desiredto be led to the court-yard, from which we all followed the winding trackwhich led to Boscombe Pool.Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scentas this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of BakerStreet would have failed to recognize him. His face flushed and darkened.His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes shone outfrom beneath them with a steely glitter. His face was bent downward, hisshoulders bowed, his lips compressed, and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long, sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to dilate with apurely animal lust for the chase, and his mind was so absolutelyconcentrated upon the matter before him that a question or remark fellunheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a quick, impatientsnarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his way along the track whichran through the meadows, and so by way of the woods to the BoscombePool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that district, and there weremarks of many feet, both upon the path and amid the short grass whichbounded it on either side. Sometimes Holmes would hurry on, sometimesstop dead, and once he made quite a little detour into the meadow.Lestrade and I walked behind him, the detective indifferent andcontemptuous, while I watched my friend with the interest which sprangfrom the conviction that every one of his actions was directed towards adefinite end.[212] The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water somefifty yards across, is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley Farmand the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods whichlined it upon the farther side we could see the red, jutting pinnacles whichmarked the site of the rich land-owner's dwelling. On the Hatherley sideof the pool the woods grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt ofsodden grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and thereeds which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which thebody had been found, and, indeed, so moist was the ground, that I couldplainly see the traces which had been left by the fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager face and peering eyes, very manyother things were to be read upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like adog who is picking up a scent, and then turned upon my companion."What did you go into the pool for?" he asked."I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon orother trace. But how on earth- -""Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its inwardtwist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and there it vanishesamong the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all have been had I been herebefore they came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all over it. Here iswhere the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they have covered alltracks for six or eight feet round the body. But here are three separatetracks of the same feet." He drew out a lens and lay down upon hiswaterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather to himselfthan to us. "These are young McCarthy's feet. Twice he was walking, andonce he ran swiftly, so that the soles are deeply marked and the heelshardly visible. That bears out his story. He ran when he saw his father onthe ground. Then here are the father's feet as he paced up and down.What is this, then? It is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening.And this? Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quiteunusual boots! They come, they go, they come again-of course that wasfor the cloak. Now where did they come from?" He ran up and down,sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we were well withinthe edge of the wood and under the shadow of a great beech, the largesttree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced his way to the farther side ofthis and lay down once more upon his face with a little cry of satisfaction.For a long time he remained there, turning over the leaves and driedsticks, gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope andexamining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of the treeas far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among the moss, andthis also he carefully examined and retained. Then he followed a pathwaythrough the wood until he came to the highroad, where all traces were lost."It has been a case of considerable interest," he remarked, returning tohis natural manner. "I fancy that this gray house on the right must be thelodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back to our luncheon.You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you presently."It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove backinto Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he had pickedup in the wood."This may interest you, Lestrade," he remarked, holding it out. "Themurder was done with it.""I see no marks."[213] "There are none.""How do you know, then?""The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few days.There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It correspondswith the injuries. There is no sign of any other weapon.""And the murderer?""Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears thick-soledshooting-boots and a gray cloak, smokes Indian cigars, uses a cigarholder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket. There are several otherindications, but these may be enough to aid us in our search."Lestrade laughed. "I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," he said."Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a hard-headedBritish jury.""Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly. "You work your ownmethod, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, and shallprobably return to London by the evening train.""And leave your case unfinished?""No, finished.""But the mystery?""It is solved.""Who was the criminal, then?""The gentleman I describe.""But who is he?""Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a populousneighbourhood."Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am a practical man," he said, "and Ireally cannot undertake to go about the country looking for a left-handedgentleman with a game-leg. I should become the laughing-stock ofScotland Yard.""All right," said Holmes quietly. "I have given you the chance. Hereare your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before I leave."Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where wefound lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in thought witha pained expression upon his face, as one who finds himself in aperplexing position."Look here, Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared; "just sitdown in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don't know quitewhat to do, and I should value your advice. Light a cigar and let meexpound.""Pray do so.""Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly, although theyimpressed me in his favour and you against him. One was the fact that hisfather should, according to his account, cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him.The other was his singular dying reference to a rat. He mumbled severalwords, you understand, but that was all that caught the son's ear. Nowfrom this double point our research must commence, and we will begin itby presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true.""What of this 'Cooee!' then?""Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The son, asfar as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that he was withinearshot. The 'Cooee!' was meant to attract the attention of whoever it wasthat he had the appointment with. But 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australiancry, and one which is used between Australians. There is a strongpresumption that the person whom [214] McCarthy expected to meet himat Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia.""What of the rat, then?"Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened itout on the table. "This is a map of the Colony of Victoria," he said. "Iwired to Bristol for it last night." He put his hand over part of the map."What do you read?""ARAT," I read."And now?" He raised his hand."BALLARAT.""Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his sononly caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter the name of hismurderer. So and so, of Ballarat.""It is wonderful!" I exclaimed."It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field downconsiderably. The possession of a gray garment was a third point which,granting the son's statement to be correct, was a certainty. We have comenow out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an Australianfrom Ballarat with a gray cloak.""Certainly.""And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only beapproached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could hardlywander.""Quite so.""Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of theground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that imbecile Lestrade,as to the personality of the criminal.""But how did you gain them?""You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles.""His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length of hisstride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces.""Yes, they were peculiar boots.""But his lameness?""The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than his left.He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped-he was lame.""But his left-handedness." "You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded by thesurgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from immediately behind,and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can that be unless it were by aleft-handed man? He had stood behind that tree during the interviewbetween the father and son. He had even smoked there. I found the ash ofa cigar, which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me topronounce as an Indian cigar. I have, as you know, devoted someattention to this, and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found theash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss wherehe had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety which are rolled inRotterdam.""And the cigar-holder?""I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he used aholder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the cut was not a cleanone, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife.""Holmes," I said, "you have drawn a net round this man from which hecannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as ifyou had cut the [215] cord which was hanging him. I see the direction inwhich all this points. The culprit is- -""Mr. John Turner," cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of oursitting-room, and ushering in a visitor.The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His slow,limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of decrepitude,and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and his enormous limbsshowed that he was possessed of unusual strength of body and ofcharacter. His tangled beard, grizzled hair, and outstanding, droopingeyebrows combined to give an air of dignity and power to his appearance,but his face was of an ashen white, while his lips and the corners of hisnostrils were tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a glancethat he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease."Pray sit down on the sofa," said Holmes gently. "You had my note?""Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you wished to seeme here to avoid scandal.""I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall.""And why did you wish to see me?" He looked across at my companionwith despair in his weary eyes, as though his question was alreadyanswered."Yes," said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. "It is so.I know all about McCarthy."The old man sank his face in his hands. "God help me!" he cried. "But Iwould not have let the young man come to harm. I give you my word thatI would have spoken out if it went against him at the Assizes.""I am glad to hear you say so," said Holmes gravely."I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It wouldbreak her heart-it will break her heart when she hears that I am arrested." "It may not come to that," said Holmes."What?""I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter whorequired my presence here, and I am acting in her interests. YoungMcCarthy must be got off, however.""I am a dying man," said old Turner. "I have had diabetes for years. Mydoctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month. Yet I wouldrather die under my own roof than in a jail."Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand and abundle of paper before him. "Just tell us the truth," he said. "I shall jotdown the facts. You will sign it, and Watson here can witness it. Then Icould produce your confession at the last extremity to save youngMcCarthy. I promise you that I shall not use it unless it is absolutelyneeded.""It's as well," said the old man; "it's a question whether I shall live tothe Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I should wish to spare Alice theshock. And now I will make the thing clear to you; it has been a long timein the acting, but will not take me long to tell."You didn't know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil incarnate. Itell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of such a man as he. Hisgrip has been upon me these twenty years, and he has blasted my life. I'lltell you first how I came to be in his power."It was in the early '60's at the diggings. I was a young chap then, hotblooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at anything; I got among badcompanions, took [216] to drink, had no luck with my claim, took to thebush, and in a word became what you would call over here a highwayrobber. There were six of us, and we had a wild, free life of it, sticking upa station from time to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to thediggings. Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our partyis still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang."One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, andwe lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers and six of us,so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at the firstvolley. Three of our boys were killed, however, before we got the swag. Iput my pistol to the head of the wagon-driver, who was this very manMcCarthy. I wish to the Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him,though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though toremember every feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthymen, and made our way over to England without being suspected. There Iparted from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet andrespectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in the market,and I set myself to do a little good with my money, to make up for theway in which I had earned it. I married, too, and though my wife diedyoung she left me my dear little Alice. Even when she was just a baby herwee hand seemed to lead me down the right path as nothing else had everdone. In a word, I turned over a new leaf and did my best to make up forthe past. All was going well when McCarthy laid his grip upon me."I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in RegentStreet with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his foot. "'Here we are, Jack,' says he, touching me on the arm; 'we'll be asgood as a family to you. There's two of us, me and my son, and you canhave the keeping of us. If you don't-it's a fine, law-abiding country isEngland, and there's always a policeman within hail.'"Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking themoff, and there they have lived rent free on my best land ever since. Therewas no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; turn where I would, therewas his cunning, grinning face at my elbow. It grew worse as Alice grewup, for he soon saw I was more afraid of her knowing my past than of thepolice. Whatever he wanted he must have, and whatever it was I gave himwithout question, land, money, houses, until at last he asked a thing whichI could not give. He asked for Alice."His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I wasknown to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him that his ladshould step into the whole property. But there I was firm. I would nothave his cursed stock mixed with mine; not that I had any dislike to thelad, but his blood was in him, and that was enough. I stood firm.McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do his worst. We were to meet atthe pool midway between our houses to talk it over."When I went down there I found him talking with his son, so I smokeda cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. But as I listenedto his talk all that was black and bitter in me seemed to come uppermost.He was urging his son to marry my daughter with as little regard for whatshe might think as if she were a slut from off the streets. It drove me madto think that I and all that I held most dear should be in the power of sucha man as this. Could I not snap the bond? I was already a dying and adesperate man. Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb, I knewthat my own fate was sealed. But my memory and my girl! Both could besaved if I could but silence that foul tongue. I did it, Mr. Holmes. [217] Iwould do it again. Deeply as I have sinned, I have led a life of martyrdomto atone for it. But that my girl should be entangled in the same mesheswhich held me was more than I could suffer. I struck him down with nomore compunction than if he had been some foul and venomous beast.His cry brought back his son; but I had gained the cover of the wood,though I was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped inmy flight. That is the true story, gentlemen, of all that occurred.""Well, it is not for me to judge you," said Holmes as the old mansigned the statement which had been drawn out. "I pray that we maynever be exposed to such a temptation.""I pray not, sir. And what do you intend to do?""In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you willsoon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes. Iwill keep your confession, and if McCarthy is condemned I shall beforced to use it. If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye; and yoursecret, whether you be alive or dead, shall be safe with us.""Farewell, then," said the old man solemnly. "Your own deathbeds,when they come, will be the easier for the thought of the peace which youhave given to mine." Tottering and shaking in all his giant frame, hestumbled slowly from the room."God help us!" said Holmes after a long silence. "Why does fate playsuch tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such a case as thisthat I do not think of Baxter's words, and say, 'There, but for the grace ofGod, goes Sherlock Holmes.'"James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of anumber of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes andsubmitted to the defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven monthsafter our interview, but he is now dead; and there is every prospect thatthe son and daughter may come to live happily together in ignorance ofthe black cloud which rests upon their past.