Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes THE REIGATE PUZZLE

IT WAS some time before the health of my friend Mr. Sherlock Holmesrecovered from the strain caused by his immense exertions in the springof '87. The whole question of the Netherland-Sumatra Company and ofthe colossal schemes of Baron Maupertuis are too recent in the minds ofthe public, and are too intimately concerned with politics and finance tobe fitting subjects for this series of sketches. They led, however, in anindirect fashion to a singular and complex problem which gave my friendan opportunity of demonstrating the value of a fresh weapon among themany with which he waged his lifelong battle against crime.On referring to my notes I see that it was upon the fourteenth of Aprilthat I received a telegram from Lyons which informed me that Holmeswas lying ill in the Hotel Dulong. Within twenty-four hours I was in hissick-room and was relieved to find that there was nothing formidable inhis symptoms. Even his iron constitution, however, had broken downunder the strain of an investigation which had extended over two months,during which period he had never worked less than fifteen hours a dayand had more than once, as he assured me, kept to his task for five days ata stretch. Even the triumphant issue of his labours could not save himfrom reaction after so terrible an exertion, and at a time when Europe wasringing with his name and when his room was literally ankle-deep withcongratulatory telegrams I found him a prey to the blackest depression.Even the knowledge that he had succeeded where the police of threecountries had failed, and that he had outmanoeuvred at every point themost accomplished swindler in Europe, was insufficient to rouse himfrom his nervous prostration.Three days later we were back in Baker Street together; but it wasevident that my friend would be much the better for a change, and thethought of a week of springtime in the country was full of attractions tome also. My old friend, Colonel Hayter, who had come under myprofessional care in Afghanistan, had now taken a house near Reigate inSurrey and had frequently asked me to come down to him upon a visit.On the last occasion he had remarked that if my friend would only comewith me he would be glad to extend his hospitality to him also. A littlediplomacy was needed, but when Holmes understood that theestablishment was a bachelor one, and that he would be allowed thefullest freedom, he fell in with my plans and a week after our return fromLyons we were under the colonel's roof. Hayter was a fine old soldierwho had seen much of the world, and he soon found, as I had expected,that Holmes and he had much in common.On the evening of our arrival we were sitting in the colonel's gun-roomafter dinner, Holmes stretched upon the sofa, while Hayter and I looked over his little armory of Eastern weapons."By the way," said he suddenly, "I think I'll take one of these pistolsupstairs with me in case we have an alarm.""An alarm!" said I."Yes, we've had a scare in this part lately. Old Acton, who is one ofour county magnates, had his house broken into last Monday. No greatdamage done, but the fellows are still at large."[399] "No clue?" asked Holmes, cocking his eye at the colonel."None as yet. But the affair is a petty one, one of our little countrycrimes, which must seem too small for your attention, Mr. Holmes, afterthis great international affair."Holmes waved away the compliment, though his smile showed that ithad pleased him."Was there any feature of interest?""I fancy not. The thieves ransacked the library and got very little fortheir pains. The whole place was turned upside down, drawers burst open,and presses ransacked, with the result that an odd volume of Pope'sHomer, two plated candlesticks, an ivory letter-weight, a small oakbarometer, and a ball of twine are all that have vanished.""What an extraordinary assortment!" I exclaimed."Oh, the fellows evidently grabbed hold of everything they could get."Holmes grunted from the sofa."The county police ought to make something of that," said he; "why, itis surely obvious that- -"But I held up a warning finger."You are here for a rest, my dear fellow. For heaven's sake don't getstarted on a new problem when your nerves are all in shreds."Holmes shrugged his shoulders with a glance of comic resignationtowards the colonel, and the talk drifted away into less dangerouschannels.It was destined, however, that all my professional caution should bewasted, for next morning the problem obtruded itself upon us in such away that it was impossible to ignore it, and our country visit took a turnwhich neither of us could have anticipated. We were at breakfast whenthe colonel's butler rushed in with all his propriety shaken out of him."Have you heard the news, sir?" he gasped. "At the Cunningham's, sir!""Burglary!" cried the colonel, with his coffee-cup in mid-air."Murder!"The colonel whistled. "By Jove!" said he. "Who's killed, then? The J.P. or his son?""Neither, sir. It was William the coachman. Shot through the heart, sir,and never spoke again.""Who shot him, then?""The burglar, sir. He was off like a shot and got clean away. He'd justbroke in at the pantry window when William came on him and met hisend in saving his master's property.""What time?""It was last night, sir, somewhere about twelve.""Ah, then, we'll step over afterwards," said the colonel, coolly settlingdown to his breakfast again. "It's a baddish business," he added when thebutler had gone; "he's our leading man about here, is old Cunningham,and a very decent fellow too. He'll be cut up over this, for the man hasbeen in his service for years and was a good servant. It's evidently thesame villains who broke into Acton's.""And stole that very singular collection," said Holmes thoughtfully."Precisely.""Hum! It may prove the simplest matter in the world, but all the sameat first [400] glance this is just a little curious, is it not? A gang of burglarsacting in the country might be expected to vary the scene of theiroperations, and not to crack two cribs in the same district within a fewdays. When you spoke last night of taking precautions I remember that itpassed through my mind that this was probably the last parish in Englandto which the thief or thieves would be likely to turn their attention-whichshows that I have still much to learn.""I fancy it's some local practitioner," said the colonel. "In that case, ofcourse, Acton's and Cunningham's are just the places he would go for,since they are far the largest about here.""And richest?""Well, they ought to be, but they've had a lawsuit for some years whichhas sucked the blood out of both of them, I fancy. Old Acton has someclaim on half Cunningham's estate, and the lawyers have been at it withboth hands." "If it's a local villain there should not be much difficulty in runninghim down," said Holmes with a yawn. "All right, Watson, I don't intendto meddle.""Inspector Forrester, sir," said the butler, throwing open the door.The official, a smart, keen-faced young fellow, stepped into the room."Good-morning, Colonel," said he. "I hope I don't intrude, but we hearthat Mr. Holmes of Baker Street is here."The colonel waved his hand towards my friend, and the inspectorbowed."We thought that perhaps you would care to step across, Mr. Holmes.""The fates are against you, Watson," said he, laughing. "We werechatting about the matter when you came in, Inspector. Perhaps you canlet us have a few details." As he leaned back in his chair in the familiarattitude I knew that the case was hopeless."We had no clue in the Acton affair. But here we have plenty to go on,and there's no doubt it is the same party in each case. The man was seen.""Ah!""Yes, sir. But he was off like a deer after the shot that killed poorWilliam Kirwan was fired. Mr. Cunningham saw him from the bedroomwindow, and Mr. Alec Cunningham saw him from the back passage. Itwas quarter to twelve when the alarm broke out. Mr. Cunningham hadjust got into bed, and Mr. Alec was smoking a pipe in his dressing-gown.They both heard William, the coachman, calling for help, and Mr. Alecran down to see what was the matter. The back door was open, and as hecame to the foot of the stairs he saw two men wrestling together outside.One of them fired a shot, the other dropped, and the murderer rushed across the garden and over the hedge. Mr. Cunningham, looking out of hisbedroom, saw the fellow as he gained the road, but lost sight of him atonce. Mr. Alec stopped to see if he could help the dying man, and so thevillain got clean away. Beyond the fact that he was a middle-sized manand dressed in some dark stuff, we have no personal clue; but we aremaking energetic inquiries, and if he is a stranger we shall soon find himout.""What was this William doing there? Did he say anything before hedied?""Not a word. He lives at the lodge with his mother, and as he was avery faithful fellow we imagine that he walked up to the house with theintention of seeing that all was right there. Of course this Acton businesshas put everyone on their guard. The robber must have just burst open thedoor-the lock has been forced-when William came upon him."[401] "Did William say anything to his mother before going out?""She is very old and deaf, and we can get no information from her. Theshock has made her half-witted, but I understand that she was never verybright. There is one very important circumstance, however. Look at this!"He took a small piece of torn paper from a notebook and spread it outupon his knee."This was found between the finger and thumb of the dead man. Itappears to be a fragment torn from a larger sheet. You will observe thatthe hour mentioned upon it is the very time at which the poor fellow methis fate. You see that his murderer might have torn the rest of the sheetfrom him or he might have taken this fragment from the murderer. Itreads almost as though it were an appointment."Holmes took up the scrap of paper, a facsimile of which is herereproduced."Presuming that it is an appointment," continued the inspector, "it is ofcourse a conceivable theory that this William Kirwan, though he had thereputation of being an honest man, may have been in league with thethief. He may have met him there, may even have helped him to break inthe door, and then they may have fallen out between themselves.""This writing is of extraordinary interest," said Holmes, who had beenexamining it with intense concentration. "These are much deeper watersthan I had thought." He sank his head upon his hands, while the inspectorsmiled at the effect which his case had had upon the famous Londonspecialist."Your last remark," said Holmes presently, "as to the possibility ofthere being an understanding between the burglar and the servant, and thisbeing a note of appointment from one to the other, is an ingenious and not entirely impossible supposition. But this writing opens up- -" He sank hishead into his hands again and remained for some minutes in the deepestthought. When he raised his face again I was surprised to see that hischeek was tinged with colour, and his eyes as bright as before his illness.He sprang to his feet with all his old energy."I'll tell you what," said he, "I should like to have a quiet little glanceinto the details of this case. There is something in it which fascinates meextremely. If you will permit me, Colonel, I will leave my friend Watsonand you, and I will step round with the inspector to test the truth of one ortwo little fancies of mine. I will be with you again in half an hour."An hour and a half had elapsed before the inspector returned alone."Mr. Holmes is walking up and down in the field outside," said he. "Hewants us all four to go up to the house together.""To Mr. Cunningham's?""Yes, sir.""What for?"[402] The inspector shrugged his shoulders. "I don't quite know, sir.Between ourselves, I think Mr. Holmes has not quite got over his illnessyet. He's been behaving very queerly, and he is very much excited.""I don't think you need alarm yourself," said I. "I have usually foundthat there was method in his madness.""Some folk might say there was madness in his method," muttered theinspector. "But he's all on fire to start, Colonel, so we had best go out ifyou are ready."We found Holmes pacing up and down in the field, his chin sunk uponhis breast, and his hands thrust into his trousers pockets."The matter grows in interest," said he. "Watson, your country trip hasbeen a distinct success. I have had a charming morning.""You have been up to the scene of the crime, I understand," said thecolonel."Yes, the inspector and I have made quite a little reconnaissancetogether.""Any success?""Well, we have seen some very interesting things. I'll tell you what wedid as we walk. First of all, we saw the body of this unfortunate man. Hecertainly died from a revolver wound as reported.""Had you doubted it, then?""Oh, it is as well to test everything. Our inspection was not wasted. Wethen had an interview with Mr. Cunningham and his son, who were ableto point out the exact spot where the murderer had broken through thegarden-hedge in his flight. That was of great interest.""Naturally.""Then we had a look at this poor fellow's mother. We could get noinformation from her, however, as she is very old and feeble.""And what is the result of your investigations?""The conviction that the crime is a very peculiar one. Perhaps our visitnow may do something to make it less obscure. I think that we are bothagreed, Inspector, that the fragment of paper in the dead man's hand,bearing, as it does, the very hour of his death written upon it, is of extreme importance.""It should give a clue, Mr. Holmes.""It does give a clue. Whoever wrote that note was the man who broughtWilliam Kirwan out of his bed at that hour. But where is the rest of thatsheet of paper?""I examined the ground carefully in the hope of finding it," said theinspector."It was torn out of the dead man's hand. Why was someone so anxiousto get possession of it? Because it incriminated him. And what would hedo with it? Thrust it into his pocket, most likely, never noticing that acorner of it had been left in the grip of the corpse. If we could get the restof that sheet it is obvious that we should have gone a long way towardssolving the mystery.""Yes, but how can we get at the criminal's pocket before we catch thecriminal?""Well, well, it was worth thinking over. Then there is another obviouspoint. The note was sent to William. The man who wrote it could nothave taken it; otherwise, of course, he might have delivered his ownmessage by word of mouth. Who brought the note, then? Or did it comethrough the post?""I have made inquiries," said the inspector. "William received a letterby the afternoon post yesterday. The envelope was destroyed by him.""Excellent!" cried Holmes, clapping the inspector on the back. "You'veseen the postman. It is a pleasure to work with you. Well, here is thelodge, and if you will come up, Colonel, I will show you the scene of thecrime."[403] We passed the pretty cottage where the murdered man had livedand walked up an oak-lined avenue to the fine old Queen Anne house,which bears the date of Malplaquet upon the lintel of the door. Holmesand the inspector led us round it until we came to the side gate, which isseparated by a stretch of garden from the hedge which lines the road. Aconstable was standing at the kitchen door."Throw the door open, officer," said Holmes. "Now, it was on thosestairs that young Mr. Cunningham stood and saw the two men strugglingjust where we are. Old Mr. Cunningham was at that window-the secondon the left-and he saw the fellow get away just to the left of that bush. Sodid the son. They are both sure of it on account of the bush. Then Mr.Alec ran out and knelt beside the wounded man. The ground is very hard,you see, and there are no marks to guide us." As he spoke two men camedown the garden path, from round the angle of the house. The one was anelderly man, with a strong, deep-lined, heavy-eyed face; the other adashing young fellow, whose bright, smiling expression and showy dresswere in strange contrast with the business which had brought us there."Still at it, then?" said he to Holmes. "I thought you Londoners werenever at fault. You don't seem to be so very quick, after all.""Ah, you must give us a little time," said Holmes good-humouredly."You'll want it," said young Alec Cunningham. "Why, I don't see thatwe have any clue at all.""There's only one," answered the inspector. "We thought that if wecould only find- - Good heavens, Mr. Holmes! what is the matter?"My poor friend's face had suddenly assumed the most dreadfulexpression. His eyes rolled upward, his features writhed in agony, andwith a suppressed groan he dropped on his face upon the ground.Horrified at the suddenness and severity of the attack, we carried him intothe kitchen, where he lay back in a large chair and breathed heavily forsome minutes. Finally, with a shamefaced apology for his weakness, herose once more."Watson would tell you that I have only just recovered from a severeillness," he explained. "I am liable to these sudden nervous attacks.""Shall I send you home in my trap?" asked old Cunningham."Well, since I am here, there is one point on which I should like to feelsure. We can very easily verify it.""What is it?""Well, it seems to me that it is just possible that the arrival of this poorfellow William was not before, but after, the entrance of the burglar intothe house. You appear to take it for granted that although the door wasforced the robber never got in.""I fancy that is quite obvious," said Mr. Cunningham gravely. "Why,my son Alec had not yet gone to bed, and he would certainly have heardanyone moving about.""Where was he sitting?""I was smoking in my dressing-room.""Which window is that?""The last on the left, next my father's.""Both of your lamps were lit, of course?""Undoubtedly.""There are some very singular points here," said Holmes, smiling. "Is itnot extraordinary that a burglar-and a burglar who had some previous experience- [404] should deliberately break into a house at a time when hecould see from the lights that two of the family were still afoot?""He must have been a cool hand.""Well, of course, if the case were not an odd one we should not havebeen driven to ask you for an explanation," said young Mr. Alec. "But asto your ideas that the man had robbed the house before William tackledhim, I think it a most absurd notion. Wouldn't we have found the placedisarranged and missed the things which he had taken?""It depends on what the things were," said Holmes. "You mustremember that we are dealing with a burglar who is a very peculiarfellow, and who appears to work on lines of his own. Look, for example,at the queer lot of things which he took from Acton's-what was it?-a ballof string, a letter-weight, and I don't know what other odds and ends.""Well, we are quite in your hands, Mr. Holmes," said old Cunningham."Anything which you or the inspector may suggest will most certainly bedone.""In the first place," said Holmes, "I should like you to offer a reward-coming from yourself, for the officials may take a little time before theywould agree upon the sum, and these things cannot be done too promptly.I have jotted down the form here, if you would not mind signing it. Fiftypounds was quite enough, I thought.""I would willingly give five hundred," said the J. P., taking the slip ofpaper and the pencil which Holmes handed to him. "This is not quitecorrect, however," he added, glancing over the document."I wrote it rather hurriedly.""You see you begin, 'Whereas, at about a quarter to one on Tuesdaymorning an attempt was made,' and so on. It was at a quarter to twelve, asa matter of fact."I was pained at the mistake, for I knew how keenly Holmes would feelany slip of the kind. It was his specialty to be accurate as to fact, but hisrecent illness had shaken him, and this one little incident was enough toshow me that he was still far from being himself. He was obviouslyembarrassed for an instant, while the inspector raised his eyebrows, andAlec Cunningham burst into a laugh. The old gentleman corrected themistake, however, and handed the paper back to Holmes."Get it printed as soon as possible," he said; "I think your idea is anexcellent one."Holmes put the slip of paper carefully away into his pocketbook."And now," said he, "it really would be a good thing that we should allgo over the house together and make certain that this rather erratic burglardid not, after all, carry anything away with him."Before entering, Holmes made an examination of the door which hadbeen forced. It was evident that a chisel or strong knife had been thrust in,and the lock forced back with it. We could see the marks in the woodwhere it had been pushed in."You don't use bars, then?" he asked."We have never found it necessary.""You don't keep a dog?""Yes, but he is chained on the other side of the house." "When do the servants go to bed?""About ten.""I understand that William was usually in bed also at that hour?"[405] "Yes.""It is singular that on this particular night he should have been up.Now, I should be very glad if you would have the kindness to show usover the house, Mr. Cunningham."A stone-flagged passage, with the kitchens branching away from it, ledby a wooden staircase directly to the first floor of the house. It came outupon the landing opposite to a second more ornamental stair which cameup from the front hall. Out of this landing opened the drawing-room andseveral bedrooms, including those of Mr. Cunningham and his son.Holmes walked slowly, taking keen note of the architecture of the house.I could tell from his expression that he was on a hot scent, and yet I couldnot in the least imagine in what direction his inferences were leading him."My good sir," said Mr. Cunningham, with some impatience, "this issurely very unnecessary. That is my room at the end of the stairs, and myson's is the one beyond it. I leave it to your judgment whether it waspossible for the thief to have come up here without disturbing us.""You must try round and get on a fresh scent, I fancy," said the sonwith a rather malicious smile."Still, I must ask you to humour me a little further. I should like, forexample, to see how far the windows of the bedrooms command the front.This, I understand, is your son's room"-he pushed open the door-"andthat, I presume is the dressing-room in which he sat smoking when thealarm was given. Where does the window of that look out to?" Hestepped across the bedroom, pushed open the door, and glanced round theother chamber."I hope that you are satisfied now?" said Mr. Cunningham tartly."Thank you, I think I have seen all that I wished.""Then if it is really necessary we can go into my room.""If it is not too much trouble."The J. P. shrugged his shoulders and led the way into his own chamber,which was a plainly furnished and commonplace room. As we movedacross it in the direction of the window, Holmes fell back until he and Iwere the last of the group. Near the foot of the bed stood a dish of orangesand a carafe of water. As we passed it Holmes, to my unutterableastonishment, leaned over in front of me and deliberately knocked thewhole thing over. The glass smashed into a thousand pieces and the fruitrolled about into every corner of the room."You've done it now, Watson," said he coolly. "A pretty mess you'vemade of the carpet."I stooped in some confusion and began to pick up the fruit,understanding for some reason my companion desired me to take theblame upon myself. The others did the same and set the table on its legsagain."Hullo!" cried the inspector, "where's he got to?"Holmes had disappeared."Wait here an instant," said young Alec Cunningham. "The fellow isoff his head, in my opinion. Come with me, father, and see where he hasgot to!"They rushed out of the room, leaving the inspector, the colonel, and mestaring at each other." 'Pon my word, I am inclined to agree with Master Alec," said theofficial. "It may be the effect of this illness, but it seems to me that- -"His words were cut short by a sudden scream of "Help! Help! Murder!"With [406] a thrill I recognized the voice as that of my friend. I rushedmadly from the room on to the landing. The cries, which had sunk downinto a hoarse, inarticulate shouting, came from the room which we hadfirst visited. I dashed in, and on into the dressing-room beyond. The twoCunninghams were bending over the prostrate figure of Sherlock Holmes,the younger clutching his throat with both hands, while the elder seemedto be twisting one of his wrists. In an instant the three of us had torn themaway from him, and Holmes staggered to his feet, very pale and evidentlygreatly exhausted."Arrest these men, Inspector," he gasped."On what charge?""That of murdering their coachman, William Kirwan."The inspector stared about him in bewilderment. "Oh, come now, Mr.Holmes," said he at last, "I'm sure you don't really mean to- -""Tut, man, look at their faces!" cried Holmes curtly.Never certainly have I seen a plainer confession of guilt upon humancountenances. The older man seemed numbed and dazed, with a heavy,sullen expression upon his strongly marked face. The son, on the otherhand, had dropped all that jaunty, dashing style which had characterizedhim, and the ferocity of a dangerous wild beast gleamed in his dark eyesand distorted his handsome features. The inspector said nothing, but,stepping to the door, he blew his whistle. Two of his constables came atthe call."I have no alternative, Mr. Cunningham," said he. "I trust that this mayall prove to be an absurd mistake, but you can see that- - Ah, would you?Drop it!" He struck out with his hand, and a revolver which the youngerman was in the act of cocking clattered down upon the floor."Keep that," said Holmes, quietly putting his foot upon it; "you willfind it useful at the trial. But this is what we really wanted." He held up alittle crumpled piece of paper."The remainder of the sheet!" cried the inspector."Precisely.""And where was it?""Where I was sure it must be. I'll make the whole matter clear to youpresently. I think, Colonel, that you and Watson might return now, and Iwill be with you again in an hour at the furthest. The inspector and I must have a word with the prisoners, but you will certainly see me back atluncheon time."Sherlock Holmes was as good as his word, for about one o'clock herejoined us in the colonel's smoking-room. He was accompanied by alittle elderly gentleman, who was introduced to me as the Mr. Actonwhose house had been the scene of the original burglary."I wished Mr. Acton to be present while I demonstrated this smallmatter to you," said Holmes, "for it is natural that he should take a keeninterest in the details. I am afraid, my dear Colonel, that you must regretthe hour that you took in such a stormy petrel as I am.""On the contrary," answered the colonel warmly, "I consider it thegreatest privilege to have been permitted to study your methods ofworking. I confess that they quite surpass my expectations, and that I amutterly unable to account for your result. I have not yet seen the vestige ofa clue.""I am afraid that my explanation may disillusion you, but it has alwaysbeen [407] my habit to hide none of my methods, either from my friendWatson or from anyone who might take an intelligent interest in them.But, first, as I am rather shaken by the knocking about which I had in thedressing-room, I think that I shall help myself to a dash of your brandy,Colonel. My strength has been rather tried of late.""I trust you had no more of those nervous attacks."Sherlock Holmes laughed heartily. "We will come to that in its turn,"said he. "I will lay an account of the case before you in its due order,showing you the various points which guided me in my decision. Prayinterrupt me if there is any inference which is not perfectly clear to you."It is of the highest importance in the art of detection to be able torecognize, out of a number of facts, which are incidental and which vital.Otherwise your energy and attention must be dissipated instead of beingconcentrated. Now, in this case there was not the slightest doubt in mymind from the first that the key of the whole matter must be looked for inthe scrap of paper in the dead man's hand."Before going into this, I would draw your attention to the fact that, ifAlec Cunningham's narrative was correct, and if the assailant, aftershooting William Kirwan, had instantly fled, then it obviously could notbe he who tore the paper from the dead man's hand. But if it was not he, itmust have been Alec Cunningham himself, for by the time that the oldman had descended several servants were upon the scene. The point is asimple one, but the inspector had overlooked it because he had startedwith the supposition that these county magnates had had nothing to dowith the matter. Now, I make a point of never having any prejudices, andof following docilely wherever fact may lead me, and so, in the very firststage of the investigation, I found myself looking a little askance at thepart which had been played by Mr. Alec Cunningham."And now I made a very careful examination of the corner of paperwhich the inspector had submitted to us. It was at once clear to me that itformed part of a very remarkable document. Here it is. Do you not nowobserve something very suggestive about it?""It has a very irregular look," said the colonel."My dear sir," cried Holmes, "there cannot be the least doubt in theworld that it has been written by two persons doing alternate words.When I draw your attention to the strong t's of 'at' and 'to,' and ask youto compare them with the weak ones of 'quarter' and 'twelve,' you willinstantly recognize the fact. A very brief analysis of these four wordswould enable you to say with the utmost confidence that the 'learn' andthe 'maybe' are written in the stronger hand, and the 'what' in theweaker.""By Jove, it's as clear as day!" cried the colonel. "Why on earth shouldtwo men write a letter in such a fashion?""Obviously the business was a bad one, and one of the men whodistrusted the other was determined that, whatever was done, each shouldhave an equal hand in it. Now, of the two men, it is clear that the one whowrote the 'at' and 'to' was the ringleader.""How do you get at that?""We might deduce it from the mere character of the one hand ascompared with the other. But we have more assured reasons than that forsupposing it. If you examine this scrap with attention you will come to theconclusion that the [408] man with the stronger hand wrote all his wordsfirst, leaving blanks for the other to fill up. These blanks were not alwayssufficient, and you can see that the second man had a squeeze to fit his'quarter' in between the 'at' and the 'to,' showing that the latter werealready written. The man who wrote all his words first is undoubtedly theman who planned the affair.""Excellent!" cried Mr. Acton."But very superficial," said Holmes. "We come now, however, to apoint which is of importance. You may not be aware that the deduction ofa man's age from his writing is one which has been brought toconsiderable accuracy by experts. In normal cases one can place a man inhis true decade with tolerable confidence. I say normal cases, because illhealth and physical weakness reproduce the signs of old age, even whenthe invalid is a youth. In this case, looking at the bold, strong hand of theone, and the rather broken-backed appearance of the other, which stillretains its legibility although the t's have begun to lose their crossing, wecan say that the one was a young man and the other was advanced inyears without being positively decrepit.""Excellent!" cried Mr. Acton again."There is a further point, however, which is subtler and of greaterinterest. There is something in common between these hands. Theybelong to men who are blood-relatives. It may be most obvious to you inthe Greek e's, but to me there are many small points which indicate thesame thing. I have no doubt at all that a family mannerism can be tracedin these two specimens of writing. I am only, of course, giving you theleading results now of my examination of the paper. There were twentythree other deductions which would be of more interest to experts than toyou. They all tend to deepen the impression upon my mind that theCunninghams, father and son, had written this letter."Having got so far, my next step was, of course, to examine into thedetails of the crime, and to see how far they would help us. I went up tothe house with the inspector and saw all that was to be seen. The woundupon the dead man was, as I was able to determine with absoluteconfidence, fired from a revolver at the distance of something over fouryards. There was no powder-blackening on the clothes. Evidently,therefore, Alec Cunningham had lied when he said that the two men werestruggling when the shot was fired. Again, both father and son agreed asto the place where the man escaped into the road. At that point, however,as it happens, there is a broadish ditch, moist at the bottom. As there wereno indications of boot-marks about this ditch, I was absolutely sure notonly that the Cunninghams had again lied but that there had never beenany unknown man upon the scene at all."And now I have to consider the motive of this singular crime. To getat this, I endeavoured first of all to solve the reason of the originalburglary at Mr. Acton's. I understood, from something which the coloneltold us, that a lawsuit had been going on between you, Mr. Acton, and theCunninghams. Of course, it instantly occurred to me that they had brokeninto your library with the intention of getting at some document whichmight be of importance in the case.""Precisely so," said Mr. Acton. "There can be no possible doubt as totheir intentions. I have the clearest claim upon half of their present estate,and if they could have found a single paper-which, fortunately, was in thestrong-box of my solicitors-they would undoubtedly have crippled ourcase.""There you are," said Holmes, smiling. "It was a dangerous, recklessattempt [409] in which I seem to trace the influence of young Alec.Having found nothing, they tried to divert suspicion by making it appearto be an ordinary burglary, to which end they carried off whatever theycould lay their hands upon. That is all clear enough, but there was much that was still obscure. What I wanted, above all, was to get the missingpart of that note. I was certain that Alec had torn it out of the dead man'shand, and almost certain that he must have thrust it into the pocket of hisdressing-gown. Where else could he have put it? The only question waswhether it was still there. It was worth an effort to find out, and for thatobject we all went up to the house."The Cunninghams joined us, as you doubtless remember, outside thekitchen door. It was, of course, of the very first importance that theyshould not be reminded of the existence of this paper, otherwise theywould naturally destroy it without delay. The inspector was about to tellthem the importance which we attached to it when, by the luckiest chancein the world, I tumbled down in a sort of fit and so changed theconversation.""Good heavens!" cried the colonel, laughing, "do you mean to say allour sympathy was wasted and your fit an imposture?""Speaking professionally, it was admirably done," cried I, looking inamazement at this man who was forever confounding me with some newphase of his astuteness."It is an art which is often useful," said he. "When I recovered Imanaged, by a device which had perhaps some little merit of ingenuity, toget old Cunningham to write the word 'twelve,' so that I might compare itwith the 'twelve' upon the paper.""Oh, what an ass I have been!" I exclaimed."I could see that you were commiserating me over my weakness," saidHolmes, laughing. "I was sorry to cause you the sympathetic pain which Iknow that you felt. We then went upstairs together, and, having enteredthe room and seen the dressing-gown hanging up behind the door, Icontrived, by upsetting a table, to engage their attention for the momentand slipped back to examine the pockets. I had hardly got the paper,however-which was, as I had expected, in one of them-when the twoCunninghams were on me, and would, I verily believe, have murdered methen and there but for your prompt and friendly aid. As it is, I feel thatyoung man's grip on my throat now, and the father has twisted my wristround in the effort to get the paper out of my hand. They saw that I mustknow all about it, you see, and the sudden change from absolute securityto complete despair made them perfectly desperate."I had a little talk with old Cunningham afterwards as to the motive ofthe crime. He was tractable enough, though his son was a perfect demon,ready to blow out his own or anybody else's brains if he could have got tohis revolver. When Cunningham saw that the case against him was sostrong he lost all heart and made a clean breast of everything. It seemsthat William had secretly followed his two masters on the night whenthey made their raid upon Mr. Acton's and, having thus got them into hispower, proceeded, under threats of exposure, to levy blackmail uponthem. Mr. Alec, however, was a dangerous man to play games of that sortwith. It was a stroke of positive genius on his part to see in the burglaryscare which was convulsing the countryside an opportunity of plausiblygetting rid of the man whom he feared. William was decoyed up and shot,and had they only got the whole of the note and paid a little more attention to detail [411] in their accessories, it is very possible thatsuspicion might never have been aroused.""And the note?" I asked.Sherlock Holmes placed the subjoined paper before us."It is very much the sort of thing that I expected," said he. "Of course,we do not yet know what the relations may have been between AlecCunningham, William Kirwan, and Annie Morrison. The result showsthat the trap was skilfully baited. I am sure that you cannot fail to bedelighted with the traces of heredity shown in the p's and in the tails ofthe g's. The absence of the i-dots in the old man's writing is also mostcharacteristic. Watson, I think our quiet rest in the country has been adistinct success, and I shall certainly return much invigorated to Baker Street to-morrow."