Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Return of Sherlock Holmes THE SOLITARY CYCLIST

FROM the years 1894 to 1901 inclusive, Mr. Sherlock Holmes was a verybusy man. It is safe to say that there was no public case of any difficultyin which he was not consulted during those eight years, and there werehundreds of private cases, some of them of the most intricate andextraordinary character, in which he played a prominent part. Manystartling successes and a few unavoidable failures were the outcome ofthis long period of continuous work. As I have preserved very full notesof all these cases, and was myself personally engaged in many of them, itmay be imagined that it is no easy task to know which I should select tolay before the public. I shall, however, preserve my former rule, and givethe preference to those cases which derive their interest not so much fromthe brutality of the crime as from the ingenuity and dramatic quality of thesolution. For this reason I will now lay before the reader the factsconnected with Miss Violet Smith, the solitary cyclist of Charlington, andthe curious sequel of our investigation, which culminated in [527]unexpected tragedy. It is true that the circumstance did not admit of anystriking illustration of those powers for which my friend was famous, butthere were some points about the case which made it stand out in thoselong records of crime from which I gather the material for these littlenarratives.On referring to my notebook for the year 1895, I find that it was upon Saturday, the 23d of April, that we first heard of Miss Violet Smith. Hervisit was, I remember, extremely unwelcome to Holmes, for he wasimmersed at the moment in a very abstruse and complicated problemconcerning the peculiar persecution to which John Vincent Harden, thewell known tobacco millionaire, had been subjected. My friend, wholoved above all things precision and concentration of thought, resentedanything which distracted his attention from the matter in hand. And yet,without a harshness which was foreign to his nature, it was impossible torefuse to listen to the story of the young and beautiful woman, tall,graceful, and queenly, who presented herself at Baker Street late in theevening, and implored his assistance and advice. It was vain to urge thathis time was already fully occupied, for the young lady had come with thedetermination to tell her story, and it was evident that nothing short offorce could get her out of the room until she had done so. With a resignedair and a somewhat weary smile, Holmes begged the beautiful intruder totake a seat, and to inform us what it was that was troubling her."At least it cannot be your health," said he, as his keen eyes darted overher; "so ardent a bicyclist must be full of energy."She glanced down in surprise at her own feet, and I observed the slightroughening of the side of the sole caused by the friction of the edge of thepedal."Yes, I bicycle a good deal, Mr. Holmes, and that has something to dowith my visit to you to-day."My friend took the lady's ungloved hand, and examined it with as closean attention and as little sentiment as a scientist would show to aspecimen."You will excuse me, I am sure. It is my business," said he, as hedropped it. "I nearly fell into the error of supposing that you weretypewriting. Of course, it is obvious that it is music. You observe thespatulate finger-ends, Watson, which is common to both professions?There is a spirituality about the face, however"-she gently turned ittowards the light-"which the typewriter does not generate. This lady is amusician.""Yes, Mr. Holmes, I teach music.""In the country, I presume, from your complexion.""Yes, sir, near Farnham, on the borders of Surrey.""A beautiful neighbourhood, and full of the most interestingassociations. You remember, Watson, that it was near there that we tookArchie Stamford, the forger. Now, Miss Violet, what has happened toyou, near Farnham, on the borders of Surrey?"The young lady, with great clearness and composure, made thefollowing curious statement:"My father is dead, Mr. Holmes. He was James Smith, who conductedthe orchestra at the old Imperial Theatre. My mother and I were leftwithout a relation in the world except one uncle, Ralph Smith, who wentto Africa twenty-five years ago, and we have never had a word from himsince. When father died, we were left very poor, but one day we were toldthat there was an advertisement in the Times, inquiring for ourwhereabouts. You can imagine how excited we were, for we thought thatsomeone had left us a fortune. We went at once to the lawyer whose namewas [528] given in the paper. There we met two gentlemen, Mr. Carruthersand Mr. Woodley, who were home on a visit from South Africa. Theysaid that my uncle was a friend of theirs, that he had died some monthsbefore in great poverty in Johannesburg, and that he had asked them withhis last breath to hunt up his relations, and see that they were in no want.It seemed strange to us that Uncle Ralph, who took no notice of us whenhe was alive, should be so careful to look after us when he was dead, butMr. Carruthers explained that the reason was that my uncle had just heardof the death of his brother, and so felt responsible for our fate.""Excuse me," said Holmes. "When was this interview?""Last December-four months ago.""Pray proceed.""Mr. Woodley seemed to me to be a most odious person. He was forever making eyes at me-a coarse, puffy-faced, red-moustached youngman, with his hair plastered down on each side of his forehead. I thoughtthat he was perfectly hateful-and I was sure that Cyril would not wish meto know such a person.""Oh, Cyril is his name!" said Holmes, smiling.The young lady blushed and laughed."Yes, Mr. Holmes, Cyril Morton, an electrical engineer, and we hope tobe married at the end of the summer. Dear me, how did I get talking abouthim? What I wished to say was that Mr. Woodley was perfectly odious,but that Mr. Carruthers, who was a much older man, was more agreeable.He was a dark, sallow, clean-shaven, silent person, but he had polite manners and a pleasant smile. He inquired how we were left, and onfinding that we were very poor, he suggested that I should come and teachmusic to his only daughter, aged ten. I said that I did not like to leave mymother, on which he suggested that I should go home to her every weekend, and he offered me a hundred a year, which was certainly splendidpay. So it ended by my accepting, and I went down to Chiltern Grange,about six miles from Farnham. Mr. Carruthers was a widower, but he hadengaged a lady housekeeper, a very respectable, elderly person, calledMrs. Dixon, to look after his establishment. The child was a dear, andeverything promised well. Mr. Carruthers was very kind and verymusical, and we had most pleasant evenings together. Every week-end Iwent home to my mother in town."The first flaw in my happiness was the arrival of the red-moustachedMr. Woodley. He came for a visit of a week, and oh! it seemed threemonths to me. He was a dreadful person-a bully to everyone else, but tome something infinitely worse. He made odious love to me, boasted of hiswealth, said that if I married him I could have the finest diamonds inLondon, and finally, when I would have nothing to do with him, he seizedme in his arms one day after dinner -he was hideously strong-and sworethat he would not let me go until I had kissed him. Mr. Carruthers came inand tore him from me, on which he turned upon his own host, knockinghim down and cutting his face open. That was the end of his visit, as youcan imagine. Mr. Carruthers apologized to me next day, and assured methat I should never be exposed to such an insult again. I have not seen Mr.Woodley since."And now, Mr. Holmes, I come at last to the special thing which hascaused me to ask your advice to-day. You must know that every Saturdayforenoon I ride on my bicycle to Farnham Station, in order to get the12:22 to town. The road from Chiltern Grange is a lonely one, and at onespot it is particularly so, for it lies for over a mile between CharlingtonHeath upon one side and the woods which lie round Charlington Hallupon the other. You could not find a more lonely tract of [529] roadanywhere, and it is quite rare to meet so much as a cart, or a peasant, untilyou reach the high road near Crooksbury Hill. Two weeks ago I waspassing this place, when I chanced to look back over my shoulder, andabout two hundred yards behind me I saw a man, also on a bicycle. Heseemed to be a middle-aged man, with a short, dark beard. I looked backbefore I reached Farnham, but the man was gone, so I thought no moreabout it. But you can imagine how surprised I was, Mr. Holmes, when, onmy return on the Monday, I saw the same man on the same stretch ofroad. My astonishment was increased when the incident occurred again,exactly as before, on the following Saturday and Monday. He always kepthis distance and did not molest me in any way, but still it certainly wasvery odd. I mentioned it to Mr. Carruthers, who seemed interested in whatI said, and told me that he had ordered a horse and trap, so that in future Ishould not pass over these lonely roads without some companion."The horse and trap were to have come this week, but for some reasonthey were not delivered, and again I had to cycle to the station. That wasthis morning. You can think that I looked out when I came to Charlington Heath, and there, sure enough, was the man, exactly as he had been thetwo weeks before. He always kept so far from me that I could not clearlysee his face, but it was certainly someone whom I did not know. He wasdressed in a dark suit with a cloth cap. The only thing about his face that Icould clearly see was his dark beard. To-day I was not alarmed, but I wasfilled with curiosity, and I determined to find out who he was and what hewanted. I slowed down my machine, but he slowed down his. Then Istopped altogether, but he stopped also. Then I laid a trap for him. Thereis a sharp turning of the road, and I pedalled very quickly round this, andthen I stopped and waited. I expected him to shoot round and pass mebefore he could stop. But he never appeared. Then I went back and lookedround the corner. I could see a mile of road, but he was not on it. To makeit the more extraordinary, there was no side road at this point down whichhe could have gone."Holmes chuckled and rubbed his hands. "This case certainly presentssome features of its own," said he. "How much time elapsed betweenyour turning the corner and your discovery that the road was clear?""Two or three minutes.""Then he could not have retreated down the road, and you say thatthere are no side roads?""None.""Then he certainly took a footpath on one side or the other.""It could not have been on the side of the heath, or I should have seenhim.""So, by the process of exclusion, we arrive at the fact that he made his way toward Charlington Hall, which, as I understand, is situated in itsown grounds on one side of the road. Anything else?""Nothing, Mr. Holmes, save that I was so perplexed that I felt I shouldnot be happy until I had seen you and had your advice."Holmes sat in silence for some little time."Where is the gentleman to whom you are engaged?" he asked at last."He is in the Midland Electrical Company, at Coventry.""He would not pay you a surprise visit?""Oh, Mr. Holmes! As if I should not know him!""Have you had any other admirers?""Several before I knew Cyril."[530] "And since?""There was this dreadful man, Woodley, if you can call him anadmirer.""No one else?"Our fair client seemed a little confused."Who was he?" asked Holmes."Oh, it may be a mere fancy of mine; but it had seemed to mesometimes that my employer, Mr. Carruthers, takes a great deal of interestin me. We are thrown rather together. I play his accompaniments in theevening. He has never said anything. He is a perfect gentleman. But a girlalways knows.""Ha!" Holmes looked grave. "What does he do for a living?""He is a rich man.""No carriages or horses?""Well, at least he is fairly well-to-do. But he goes into the city two orthree times a week. He is deeply interested in South African gold shares.""You will let me know any fresh development, Miss Smith. I am verybusy just now, but I will find time to make some inquiries into your case.In the meantime, take no step without letting me know. Good-bye, and Itrust that we shall have nothing but good news from you.""It is part of the settled order of Nature that such a girl should havefollowers," said Holmes, as he pulled at his meditative pipe, "but forchoice not on bicycles in lonely country roads. Some secretive lover,beyond all doubt. But there are curious and suggestive details about thecase, Watson.""That he should appear only at that point?""Exactly. Our first effort must be to find who are the tenants ofCharlington Hall. Then, again, how about the connection betweenCarruthers and Woodley, since they appear to be men of such a differenttype? How came they both to be so keen upon looking up Ralph Smith'srelations? One more point. What sort of a menage is it which pays doublethe market price for a governess but does not keep a horse, although sixmiles from the station? Odd, Watson-very odd!""You will go down?""No, my dear fellow, you will go down. This may be some triflingintrigue, and I cannot break my other important research for the sake of it.On Monday you will arrive early at Farnham; you will conceal yourselfnear Charlington Heath; you will observe these facts for yourself, and act as your own judgment advises. Then, having inquired as to the occupantsof the Hall, you will come back to me and report. And now, Watson, notanother word of the matter until we have a few solid stepping-stones onwhich we may hope to get across to our solution."We had ascertained from the lady that she went down upon the Mondayby the train which leaves Waterloo at 9:50, so I started early and caughtthe 9:13. At Farnham Station I had no difficulty in being directed toCharlington Heath. It was impossible to mistake the scene of the younglady's adventure, for the road runs between the open heath on one sideand an old yew hedge upon the other, surrounding a park which isstudded with magnificent trees. There was a main gateway of lichenstudded stone, each side pillar surmounted by mouldering heraldicemblems, but besides this central carriage drive I observed several pointswhere there were gaps in the hedge and paths leading through them. Thehouse was invisible from the road, but the surroundings all spoke ofgloom and decay.The heath was covered with golden patches of flowering gorse,gleaming magnificently in the light of the bright spring sunshine. Behindone of these clumps I [531] took up my position, so as to command boththe gateway of the Hall and a long stretch of the road upon either side. Ithad been deserted when I left it, but now I saw a cyclist riding down itfrom the opposite direction to that in which I had come. He was clad in adark suit, and I saw that he had a black beard. On reaching the end of theCharlington grounds, he sprang from his machine and led it through a gapin the hedge, disappearing from my view.A quarter of an hour passed, and then a second cyclist appeared. Thistime it was the young lady coming from the station. I saw her look abouther as she came to the Charlington hedge. An instant later the manemerged from his hiding-place, sprang upon his cycle, and followed her.In all the broad landscape those were the only moving figures, thegraceful girl sitting very straight upon her machine, and the man behindher bending low over his handle-bar with a curiously furtive suggestion inevery movement. She looked back at him and slowed her pace. He slowedalso. She stopped. He at once stopped, too, keeping two hundred yardsbehind her. Her next movement was as unexpected as it was spirited. Shesuddenly whisked her wheels round and dashed straight at him. He was asquick as she, however, and darted off in desperate flight. Presently shecame back up the road again, her head haughtily in the air, not deigning totake any further notice of her silent attendant. He had turned also, and stillkept his distance until the curve of the road hid them from my sight.I remained in my hiding-place, and it was well that I did so, forpresently the man reappeared, cycling slowly back. He turned in at theHall gates, and dismounted from his machine. For some minutes I couldsee him standing among the trees. His hands were raised, and he seemedto be settling his necktie. Then he mounted his cycle, and rode away fromme down the drive towards the Hall. I ran across the heath and peeredthrough the trees. Far away I could catch glimpses of the old graybuilding with its bristling Tudor chimneys, but the drive ran through adense shrubbery, and I saw no more of my man. However, it seemed to me that I had done a fairly good morning'swork, and I walked back in high spirits to Farnham. The local house agentcould tell me nothing about Charlington Hall, and referred me to a wellknown firm in Pall Mall. There I halted on my way home, and met withcourtesy from the representative. No, I could not have Charlington Hallfor the summer. I was just too late. It had been let about a month ago. Mr.Williamson was the name of the tenant. He was a respectable, elderlygentleman. The polite agent was afraid he could say no more, as theaffairs of his clients were not matters which he could discuss.Mr. Sherlock Holmes listened with attention to the long report which Iwas able to present to him that evening, but it did not elicit that word ofcurt praise which I had hoped for and should have valued. On thecontrary, his austere face was even more severe than usual as hecommented upon the things that I had done and the things that I had not."Your hiding-place, my dear Watson, was very faulty. You should havebeen behind the hedge, then you would have had a close view of thisinteresting person. As it is, you were some hundreds of yards away andcan tell me even less than Miss Smith. She thinks she does not know theman; I am convinced she does. Why, otherwise, should he be sodesperately anxious that she should not get so near him as to see hisfeatures? You describe him as bending over the handle-bar. Concealmentagain, you see. You really have done remarkably badly. He returns to thehouse, and you want to find out who he is. You come to a London houseagent!"[532] "What should I have done?" I cried, with some heat."Gone to the nearest public-house. That is the centre of country gossip.They would have told you every name, from the master to the scullerymaid. Williamson? It conveys nothing to my mind. If he is an elderly manhe is not this active cyclist who sprints away from that young lady'sathletic pursuit. What have we gained by your expedition? Theknowledge that the girl's story is true. I never doubted it. That there is aconnection between the cyclist and the Hall. I never doubted that either.That the Hall is tenanted by Williamson. Who's the better for that? Well,well, my dear sir, don't look so depressed. We can do little more untilnext Saturday, and in the meantime I may make one or two inquiriesmyself."Next morning, we had a note from Miss Smith, recounting shortly andaccurately the very incidents which I had seen, but the pith of the letterlay in the postscript:I am sure that you will respect my confidence, Mr. Holmes,when I tell you that my place here has become difficult, owing tothe fact that my employer has proposed marriage to me. I amconvinced that his feelings are most deep and most honourable. Atthe same time, my promise is of course given. He took my refusalvery seriously, but also very gently. You can understand, however,that the situation is a little strained."Our young friend seems to be getting into deep waters," said Holmes, thoughtfully, as he finished the letter. "The case certainly presents morefeatures of interest and more possibility of development than I hadoriginally thought. I should be none the worse for a quiet, peaceful day inthe country, and I am inclined to run down this afternoon and test one ortwo theories which I have formed."Holmes's quiet day in the country had a singular termination, for hearrived at Baker Street late in the evening, with a cut lip and a discolouredlump upon his forehead, besides a general air of dissipation which wouldhave made his own person the fitting object of a Scotland Yardinvestigation. He was immensely tickled by his own adventures andlaughed heartily as he recounted them."I get so little active exercise that it is always a treat," said he. "You areaware that I have some proficiency in the good old British sport ofboxing. Occasionally, it is of service; to-day, for example, I should havecome to very ignominious grief without it."I begged him to tell me what had occurred."I found that country pub which I had already recommended to yournotice, and there I made my discreet inquiries. I was in the bar, and agarrulous landlord was giving me all that I wanted. Williamson is a whitebearded man, and he lives alone with a small staff of servants at the Hall.There is some rumor that he is or has been a clergyman, but one or twoincidents of his short residence at the Hall struck me as peculiarlyunecclesiastical. I have already made some inquiries at a clerical agency,and they tell me that there was a man of that name in orders, whose careerhas been a singularly dark one. The landlord further informed me thatthere are usually week-end visitors-'a warm lot, sir'-at the Hall, andespecially one gentleman with a red moustache, Mr. Woodley by name,who was always there. We had got as far as this, when who should walkin but the gentleman himself, who had been drinking his beer in the taproom and had heard the whole conversation. Who was I? What did Iwant? What did I mean by asking questions? He had a fine flow oflanguage, and his adjectives were very vigorous. He ended a string ofabuse by a vicious back-hander, which I failed to entirely avoid. The nextfew minutes were delicious. It was a straight left against a sloggingruffian. I emerged as you see me. Mr. Woodley [533] went home in a cart.So ended my country trip, and it must be confessed that, howeverenjoyable, my day on the Surrey border has not been much moreprofitable than your own."The Thursday brought us another letter from our client.You will not be surprised, Mr. Holmes [said she] to hear that Iam leaving Mr. Carruthers's employment. Even the high paycannot reconcile me to the discomforts of my situation. OnSaturday I come up to town, and I do not intend to return. Mr.Carruthers has got a trap, and so the dangers of the lonely road, ifthere ever were any dangers, are now over.As to the special cause of my leaving, it is not merely thestrained situation with Mr. Carruthers, but it is the reappearance ofthat odious man, Mr. Woodley. He was always hideous, but helooks more awful than ever now, for he appears to have had anaccident, and he is much disfigured. I saw him out of the window,but I am glad to say I did not meet him. He had a long talk withMr. Carruthers, who seemed much excited afterwards. Woodleymust be staying in the neighbourhood, for he did not sleep here,and yet I caught a glimpse of him again this morning, slinkingabout in the shrubbery. I would sooner have a savage wild animalloose about the place. I loathe and fear him more than I can say.How can Mr. Carruthers endure such a creature for a moment?However, all my troubles will be over on Saturday."So I trust, Watson, so I trust," said Holmes, gravely. "There is somedeep intrigue going on round that little woman, and it is our duty to seethat no one molests her upon that last journey. I think, Watson, that wemust spare time to run down together on Saturday morning and make sure that this curious and inclusive investigation has no untoward ending."I confess that I had not up to now taken a very serious view of the case,which had seemed to me rather grotesque and bizarre than dangerous.That a man should lie in wait for and follow a very handsome woman isno unheard-of thing, and if he has so little audacity that he not only darednot address her, but even fled from her approach, he was not a veryformidable assailant. The ruffian Woodley was a very different person,but, except on one occasion, he had not molested our client, and now hevisited the house of Carruthers without intruding upon her presence. Theman on the bicycle was doubtless a member of those week-end parties atthe Hall of which the publican had spoken, but who he was, or what hewanted, was as obscure as ever. It was the severity of Holmes's mannerand the fact that he slipped a revolver into his pocket before leaving ourrooms which impressed me with the feeling that tragedy might prove tolurk behind this curious train of events.A rainy night had been followed by a glorious morning, and the heathcovered countryside, with the glowing clumps of flowering gorse, seemedall the more beautiful to eyes which were weary of the duns and drabs andslate grays of London. Holmes and I walked along the broad, sandy roadinhaling the fresh morning air and rejoicing in the music of the birds andthe fresh breath of the spring. From a rise of the road on the shoulder ofCrooksbury Hill, we could see the grim Hall bristling out from amidst theancient oaks, which, old as they were, were still younger than the buildingwhich they surrounded. Holmes pointed down the long tract of roadwhich wound, a reddish yellow band, between the brown of the heath andthe budding green of the woods. Far away, a black dot, we could see avehicle moving in our direction. Holmes gave an exclamation ofimpatience.[534] "I have given a margin of half an hour," said he. "If that is hertrap, she must be making for the earlier train. I fear, Watson, that she willbe past Charlington before we can possibly meet her."From the instant that we passed the rise, we could no longer see thevehicle, but we hastened onward at such a pace that my sedentary lifebegan to tell upon me, and I was compelled to fall behind. Holmes,however, was always in training, for he had inexhaustible stores ofnervous energy upon which to draw. His springy step never slowed untilsuddenly, when he was a hundred yards in front of me, he halted, and Isaw him throw up his hand with a gesture of grief and despair. At thesame instant an empty dog-cart, the horse cantering, the reins trailing,appeared round the curve of the road and rattled swiftly towards us."Too late, Watson, too late!" cried Holmes, as I ran panting to his side."Fool that I was not to allow for that earlier train! It's abduction, Watson-abduction! Murder! Heaven knows what! Block the road! Stop the horse!That's right. Now, jump in, and let us see if I can repair the consequencesof my own blunder."We had sprung into the dog-cart, and Holmes, after turning the horse,gave it a sharp cut with the whip, and we flew back along the road. As weturned the curve, the whole stretch of road between the Hall and the heathwas opened up. I grasped Holmes's arm."That's the man!" I gasped.A solitary cyclist was coming towards us. His head was down and hisshoulders rounded, as he put every ounce of energy that he possessed onto the pedals. He was flying like a racer. Suddenly he raised his beardedface, saw us close to him, and pulled up, springing from his machine.That coal-black beard was in singular contrast to the pallor of his face,and his eyes were as bright as if he had a fever. He stared at us and at thedog-cart. Then a look of amazement came over his face."Halloa! Stop there!" he shouted, holding his bicycle to block our road."Where did you get that dog-cart? Pull up, man!" he yelled, drawing apistol from his side pocket. "Pull up, I say, or, by George, I'll put a bulletinto your horse."Holmes threw the reins into my lap and sprang down from the cart."You're the man we want to see. Where is Miss Violet Smith?" he said,in his quick, clear way."That's what I'm asking you. You're in her dog-cart. You ought toknow where she is." "We met the dog-cart on the road. There was no one in it. We droveback to help the young lady.""Good Lord! Good Lord! What shall I do?" cried the stranger, in anecstasy of despair. "They've got her, that hell-hound Woodley and theblackguard parson. Come, man, come, if you really are her friend. Standby me and we'll save her, if I have to leave my carcass in CharlingtonWood."He ran distractedly, his pistol in his hand, towards a gap in the hedge.Holmes followed him, and I, leaving the horse grazing beside the road,followed Holmes."This is where they came through," said he, pointing to the marks ofseveral feet upon the muddy path. "Halloa! Stop a minute! Who's this inthe bush?"It was a young fellow about seventeen, dressed like an ostler, withleather cords and gaiters. He lay upon his back, his knees drawn up, aterrible cut upon his head. He was insensible, but alive. A glance at hiswound told me that it had not penetrated the bone."That's Peter, the groom," cried the stranger. "He drove her. The beasts[535] have pulled him off and clubbed him. Let him lie; we can't do himany good, but we may save her from the worst fate that can befall awoman."We ran frantically down the path, which wound among the trees. Wehad reached the shrubbery which surrounded the house when Holmespulled up."They didn't go to the house. Here are their marks on the left-here,beside the laurel bushes. Ah! I said so."As he spoke, a woman's shrill scream-a scream which vibrated with afrenzy of horror-burst from the thick, green clump of bushes in front ofus. It ended suddenly on its highest note with a choke and a gurgle."This way! This way! They are in the bowling-alley," cried thestranger, darting through the bushes. "Ah, the cowardly dogs! Follow me,gentlemen! Too late! too late! by the living Jingo!"We had broken suddenly into a lovely glade of greensward surroundedby ancient trees. On the farther side of it, under the shadow of a mightyoak, there stood a singular group of three people. One was a woman, ourclient, drooping and faint, a handkerchief round her mouth. Opposite herstood a brutal, heavy-faced, red-moustached young man, his gaitered legsparted wide, one arm akimbo, the other waving a riding crop, his wholeattitude suggestive of triumphant bravado. Between them an elderly, graybearded man, wearing a short surplice over a light tweed suit, hadevidently just completed the wedding service, for he pocketed his prayerbook as we appeared, and slapped the sinister bridegroom upon the backin jovial congratulation."They're married?" I gasped."Come on!" cried our guide; "come on!" He rushed across the glade,Holmes and I at his heels. As we approached, the lady staggered againstthe trunk of the tree for support. Williamson, the ex-clergyman, bowed tous with mock politeness, and the bully, Woodley, advanced with a shoutof brutal and exultant laughter."You can take your beard off, Bob," said he. "I know you, rightenough. Well, you and your pals have just come in time for me to be ableto introduce you to Mrs. Woodley."Our guide's answer was a singular one. He snatched off the dark beardwhich had disguised him and threw it on the ground, disclosing a long,sallow, clean-shaven face below it. Then he raised his revolver andcovered the young ruffian, who was advancing upon him with hisdangerous riding crop swinging in his hand."Yes," said our ally, "I am Bob Carruthers, and I'll see this womanrighted, if I have to swing for it. I told you what I'd do if you molestedher, and, by the Lord! I'll be as good as my word.""You're too late. She's my wife.""No, she's your widow."His revolver cracked, and I saw the blood spurt from the front ofWoodley's waistcoat. He spun round with a scream and fell upon hisback, his hideous red face turning suddenly to a dreadful mottled pallor.The old man, still clad in his surplice, burst into such a string of foul oathsas I have never heard, and pulled out a revolver of his own, but, before hecould raise it, he was looking down the barrel of Holmes's weapon."Enough of this," said my friend, coldly. "Drop that pistol! Watson,pick it up! Hold it to his head! Thank you. You, Carruthers, give me thatrevolver. We'll have no more violence. Come, hand it over!""Who are you, then?"[536] "My name is Sherlock Holmes.""Good Lord!""You have heard of me, I see. I will represent the official police untiltheir arrival. Here, you!" he shouted to a frightened groom, who hadappeared at the edge of the glade. "Come here. Take this note as hard asyou can ride to Farnham." He scribbled a few words upon a leaf from hisnotebook. "Give it to the superintendent at the police-station. Until hecomes, I must detain you all under my personal custody."The strong, masterful personality of Holmes dominated the tragicscene, and all were equally puppets in his hands. Williamson andCarruthers found themselves carrying the wounded Woodley into thehouse, and I gave my arm to the frightened girl. The injured man was laidon his bed, and at Holmes's request I examined him. I carried my reportto where he sat in the old tapestry-hung dining-room with his twoprisoners before him."He will live," said I. "What!" cried Carruthers, springing out of his chair. "I'll go upstairsand finish him first. Do you tell me that that girl, that angel, is to be tiedto Roaring Jack Woodley for life?""You need not concern yourself about that," said Holmes. "There aretwo very good reasons why she should, under no circumstances, be hiswife. In the first place, we are very safe in questioning Mr. Williamson'sright to solemnize a marriage.""I have been ordained," cried the old rascal."And also unfrocked.""Once a clergyman, always a clergyman.""I think not. How about the licence?""We had a licence for the marriage. I have it here in my pocket.""Then you got it by a trick. But, in any case, a forced marriage is nomarriage, but it is a very serious felony, as you will discover before youhave finished. You'll have time to think the point out during the next tenyears or so, unless I am mistaken. As to you, Carruthers, you would havedone better to keep your pistol in your pocket.""I begin to think so, Mr. Holmes, but when I thought of all theprecaution I had taken to shield this girl-for I loved her, Mr. Holmes, andit is the only time that ever I knew what love was-it fairly drove me madto think that she was in the power of the greatest brute and bully in SouthAfrica-a man whose name is a holy terror from Kimberley toJohannesburg. Why, Mr. Holmes, you'll hardly believe it, but ever sincethat girl has been in my employment I never once let her go past thishouse, where I knew the rascals were lurking, without following her onmy bicycle, just to see that she came to no harm. I kept my distance fromher, and I wore a beard, so that she should not recognize me, for she is agood and high-spirited girl, and she wouldn't have stayed in myemployment long if she had thought that I was following her about thecountry roads.""Why didn't you tell her of her danger?""Because then, again, she would have left me, and I couldn't bear toface that. Even if she couldn't love me, it was a great deal to me just tosee her dainty form about the house, and to hear the sound of her voice.""Well," said I, "you call that love, Mr. Carruthers, but I should call itselfishness.""Maybe the two things go together. Anyhow, I couldn't let her go.Besides, with this crowd about, it was well that she should have someonenear to look after her. Then, when the cable came, I knew they werebound to make a move.""What cable?"[537] Carruthers took a telegram from his pocket."That's it," said he.It was short and concise:THE OLD MAN IS DEAD."Hum!" said Holmes. "I think I see how things worked, and I canunderstand how this message would, as you say, bring them to a head. But while you wait, you might tell me what you can."The old reprobate with the surplice burst into a volley of bad language."By heaven!" said he, "if you squeal on us, Bob Carruthers, I'll serveyou as you served Jack Woodley. You can bleat about the girl to yourheart's content, for that's your own affair, but if you round on your pals tothis plain-clothes copper, it will be the worst day's work that ever youdid.""Your reverence need not be excited," said Holmes, lighting a cigarette."The case is clear enough against you, and all I ask is a few details for myprivate curiosity. However, if there's any difficulty in your telling me, I'lldo the talking, and then you will see how far you have a chance ofholding back your secrets. In the first place, three of you came from SouthAfrica on this game-you Williamson, you Carruthers, and Woodley.""Lie number one," said the old man; "I never saw either of them untiltwo months ago, and I have never been in Africa in my life, so you canput that in your pipe and smoke it, Mr. Busybody Holmes!""What he says is true," said Carruthers."Well, well, two of you came over. His reverence is our ownhomemade article. You had known Ralph Smith in South Africa. You hadreason to believe he would not live long. You found out that his niecewould inherit his fortune. How's that-eh?"Carruthers nodded and Williamson swore."She was next of kin, no doubt, and you were aware that the old fellowwould make no will.""Couldn't read or write," said Carruthers."So you came over, the two of you, and hunted up the girl. The ideawas that one of you was to marry her, and the other have a share of theplunder. For some reason, Woodley was chosen as the husband. Why wasthat?""We played cards for her on the voyage. He won.""I see. You got the young lady into your service, and there Woodleywas to do the courting. She recognized the drunken brute that he was, andwould have nothing to do with him. Meanwhile, your arrangement wasrather upset by the fact that you had yourself fallen in love with the lady.You could no longer bear the idea of this ruffian owning her?""No, by George, I couldn't!""There was a quarrel between you. He left you in a rage, and began tomake his own plans independently of you.""It strikes me, Williamson, there isn't very much that we can tell thisgentleman," cried Carruthers, with a bitter laugh. "Yes, we quarreled, andhe knocked me down. I am level with him on that, anyhow. Then I lostsight of him. That was when he picked up with this outcast padre here. Ifound that they had set up housekeeping together at this place on the linethat she had to pass for the station. I kept my eye on her after that, for Iknew there was some devilry in the wind. I saw them from [538] time totime, for I was anxious to know what they were after. Two days agoWoodley came up to my house with this cable, which showed that RalphSmith was dead. He asked me if I would stand by the bargain. I said Iwould not. He asked me if I would marry the girl myself and give him a share. I said I would willingly do so, but that she would not have me. Hesaid, 'Let us get her married first, and after a week or two she may seethings a bit different.' I said I would have nothing to do with violence. Sohe went off cursing, like the foul-mouthed blackguard that he was, andswearing that he would have her yet. She was leaving me this week-end,and I had got a trap to take her to the station, but I was so uneasy in mymind that I followed her on my bicycle. She had got a start, however, andbefore I could catch her, the mischief was done. The first thing I knewabout it was when I saw you two gentlemen driving back in her dog-cart."Holmes rose and tossed the end of his cigarette into the grate. "I havebeen very obtuse, Watson," said he. "When in your report you said thatyou had seen the cyclist as you thought arrange his necktie in theshrubbery, that alone should have told me all. However, we maycongratulate ourselves upon a curious and, in some respects, a uniquecase. I perceive three of the county constabulary in the drive, and I amglad to see that the little ostler is able to keep pace with them, so it islikely that neither he nor the interesting bridegroom will be permanentlydamaged by their morning's adventures. I think, Watson, that in yourmedical capacity, you might wait upon Miss Smith and tell her that if sheis sufficiently recovered, we shall be happy to escort her to her mother'shome. If she is not quite convalescent, you will find that a hint that wewere about to telegraph to a young electrician in the Midlands wouldprobably complete the cure. As to you, Mr. Carruthers, I think that youhave done what you could to make amends for your share in an evil plot.There is my card, sir, and if my evidence can be of help in your trial, itshall be at your disposal."In the whirl of our incessant activity, it has often been difficult for me,as the reader has probably observed, to round off my narratives, and togive those final details which the curious might expect. Each case hasbeen the prelude to another, and the crisis once over, the actors havepassed for ever out of our busy lives. I find, however, a short note at theend of my manuscript dealing with this case, in which I have put it uponrecord that Miss Violet Smith did indeed inherit a large fortune, and thatshe is now the wife of Cyril Morton, the senior partner of Morton &Kennedy, the famous Westminster electricians. Williamson and Woodleywere both tried for abduction and assault, the former getting seven yearsand the latter ten. Of the fate of Carruthers, I have no record, but I amsure that his assault was not viewed very gravely by the court, sinceWoodley had the reputation of being a most dangerous ruffian, and I thinkthat a few months were sufficient to satisfy the demands of justice