Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Valley of Fear Chapter 6 A DAWNING LIGHT

THE three detectives had many matters of detail into which to inquire; so Ireturned alone to our modest quarters at the village inn. But before doingso I took a stroll in the curious old-world garden which flanked the house.Rows of very ancient yew trees cut into strange designs girded it round.Inside was a beautiful stretch of lawn with an old sundial in the middle,the whole effect so soothing and restful that it was welcome to mysomewhat jangled nerves.In that deeply peaceful atmosphere one could forget, or remember onlyas some fantastic nightmare, that darkened study with the sprawling,bloodstained figure on the floor. And yet, as I strolled round it and tried tosteep my soul in its gentle balm, a strange incident occurred, whichbrought me back to the tragedy and left a sinister impression in my mind.I have said that a decoration of yew trees circled the garden. At the endfarthest from the house they thickened into a continuous hedge. On theother side of this hedge, concealed from the eyes of anyone approachingfrom the direction of the house, there was a stone seat. As I approachedthe spot I was aware of voices, some remark in the deep tones of a man,answered by a little ripple of feminine laughter.An instant later I had come round the end of the hedge and my eyes litupon Mrs. Douglas and the man Barker before they were aware of mypresence. Her appearance gave me a shock. In the dining room she hadbeen demure and discreet. Now all pretense of grief had passed awayfrom her. Her eyes shone with the joy of living, and her face still quiveredwith amusement at some remark of her companion. He sat forward, hishands clasped and his forearms on his knees, with an answering smileupon his bold, handsome face. In an instant -but it was just one instanttoo late-they resumed their solemn masks as my figure came into view. A[799] hurried word or two passed between them, and then Barker rose andcame towards me."Excuse me, sir," said he, "but am I addressing Dr. Watson?"I bowed with a coldness which showed, I dare say, very plainly theimpression which had been produced upon my mind."We thought that it was probably you, as your friendship with Mr.Sherlock Holmes is so well known. Would you mind coming over andspeaking to Mrs. Douglas for one instant?"I followed him with a dour face. Very clearly I could see in my mind'seye that shattered figure on the floor. Here within a few hours of thetragedy were his wife and his nearest friend laughing together behind abush in the garden which had been his. I greeted the lady with reserve. I had grieved with her grief in the dining room. Now I met her appealinggaze with an unresponsive eye."I fear that you think me callous and hard-hearted," said she.I shrugged my shoulders. "It is no business of mine," said I."Perhaps some day you will do me justice. If you only realized- -""There is no need why Dr. Watson should realize," said Barker quickly."As he has himself said, it is no possible business of his.""Exactly," said I, "and so I will beg leave to resume my walk.""One moment, Dr. Watson," cried the woman in a pleading voice."There is one question which you can answer with more authority thananyone else in the world, and it may make a very great difference to me.You know Mr. Holmes and his relations with the police better thananyone else can. Supposing that a matter were brought confidentially tohis knowledge, is it absolutely necessary that he should pass it on to thedetectives?""Yes, that's it," said Barker eagerly. "Is he on his own or is he entirelyin with them?""I really don't know that I should be justified in discussing such apoint.""I beg-I implore that you will, Dr. Watson! I assure you that you willbe helping us-helping me greatly if you will guide us on that point."There was such a ring of sincerity in the woman's voice that for theinstant I forgot all about her levity and was moved only to do her will."Mr. Holmes is an independent investigator," I said. "He is his ownmaster, and would act as his own judgment directed. At the same time, hewould naturally feel loyalty towards the officials who were working onthe same case, and he would not conceal from them anything whichwould help them in bringing a criminal to justice. Beyond this I can saynothing, and I would refer you to Mr. Holmes himself if you wanted fullerinformation."So saying I raised my hat and went upon my way, leaving them stillseated behind that concealing hedge. I looked back as I rounded the farend of it, and saw that they were still talking very earnestly together, and,as they were gazing after me, it was clear that it was our interview thatwas the subject of their debate."I wish none of their confidences," said Holmes, when I reported tohim what had occurred. He had spent the whole afternoon at the ManorHouse in consultation with his two colleagues, and returned about fivewith a ravenous appetite for a high tea which I had ordered for him. "Noconfidences, Watson; for they are mighty awkward if it comes to an arrestfor conspiracy and murder.""You think it will come to that?"He was in his most cheerful and debonair humour. "My dear Watson,when [800] I have exterminated that fourth egg I shall be ready to put youin touch with the whole situation. I don't say that we have fathomed it-farfrom it-but when we have traced the missing dumb-bell- -""The dumb-bell!""Dear me, Watson, is it possible that you have not penetrated the factthat the case hangs upon the missing dumb-bell? Well, well, you need not be downcast; for between ourselves I don't think that either InspectorMac or the excellent local practitioner has grasped the overwhelmingimportance of this incident. One dumb-bell, Watson! Consider an athletewith one dumb-bell! Picture to yourself the unilateral development, theimminent danger of a spinal curvature. Shocking, Watson, shocking!"He sat with his mouth full of toast and his eyes sparkling with mischief,watching my intellectual entanglement. The mere sight of his excellentappetite was an assurance of success; for I had very clear recollections ofdays and nights without a thought of food, when his baffled mind hadchafed before some problem while his thin, eager features became moreattenuated with the asceticism of complete mental concentration. Finallyhe lit his pipe, and sitting in the inglenook of the old village inn he talkedslowly and at random about his case, rather as one who thinks aloud thanas one who makes a considered statement."A lie, Watson-a great, big, thumping, obtrusive, uncompromising lie-that's what meets us on the threshold! There is our starting point. Thewhole story told by Barker is a lie. But Barker's story is corroborated byMrs. Douglas. Therefore she is lying also. They are both lying, and in aconspiracy. So now we have the clear problem. Why are they lying, andwhat is the truth which they are trying so hard to conceal? Let us try,Watson, you and I, if we can get behind the lie and reconstruct the truth."How do I know that they are lying? Because it is a clumsy fabricationwhich simply could not be true. Consider! According to the story given tous, the assassin had less than a minute after the murder had beencommitted to take that ring, which was under another ring, from the deadman's finger, to replace the other ring-a thing which he would surelynever have done-and to put that singular card beside his victim. I say thatthis was obviously impossible."You may argue-but I have too much respect for your judgment,Watson, to think that you will do so-that the ring may have been takenbefore the man was killed. The fact that the candle had been lit only ashort time shows that there had been no lengthy interview. Was Douglas,from what we hear of his fearless character, a man who would be likely togive up his wedding ring at such short notice, or could we conceive of hisgiving it up at all? No, no, Watson, the assassin was alone with the deadman for some time with the lamp lit. Of that I have no doubt at all."But the gunshot was apparently the cause of death. Therefore the shotmust have been fired some time earlier than we are told. But there couldbe no mistake about such a matter as that. We are in the presence,therefore, of a deliberate conspiracy upon the part of the two people whoheard the gunshot- of the man Barker and of the woman Douglas. Whenon the top of this I am able to show that the blood mark on the windowsillwas deliberately placed there by Barker, in order to give a false clue to thepolice, you will admit that the case grows dark against him."Now we have to ask ourselves at what hour the murder actually didoccur. Up [801] to half-past ten the servants were moving about the house;so it was certainly not before that time. At a quarter to eleven they had allgone to their rooms with the exception of Ames, who was in the pantry. Ihave been trying some experiments after you left us this afternoon, and I find that no noise which MacDonald can make in the study can penetrateto me in the pantry when the doors are all shut."It is otherwise, however, from the housekeeper's room. It is not so fardown the corridor, and from it I could vaguely hear a voice when it wasvery loudly raised. The sound from a shotgun is to some extent muffledwhen the discharge is at very close range, as it undoubtedly was in thisinstance. It would not be very loud, and yet in the silence of the night itshould have easily penetrated to Mrs. Allen's room. She is, as she has toldus, somewhat deaf; but none the less she mentioned in her evidence thatshe did hear something like a door slamming half an hour before thealarm was given. Half an hour before the alarm was given would be aquarter to eleven. I have no doubt that what she heard was the report ofthe gun, and that this was the real instant of the murder."If this is so, we have now to determine what Barker and Mrs. Douglas,presuming that they are not the actual murderers, could have been doingfrom quarter to eleven, when the sound of the shot brought them down,until quarter past eleven, when they rang the bell and summoned theservants. What were they doing, and why did they not instantly give thealarm? That is the question which faces us, and when it has beenanswered we shall surely have gone some way to solve our problem.""I am convinced myself," said I, "that there is an understandingbetween those two people. She must be a heartless creature to sit laughingat some jest within a few hours of her husband's murder.""Exactly. She does not shine as a wife even in her own account of whatoccurred. I am not a whole-souled admirer of womankind, as you areaware, Watson, but my experience of life has taught me that there are fewwives, having any regard for their husbands, who would let any man'sspoken word stand between them and that husband's dead body. Should Iever marry, Watson, I should hope to inspire my wife with some feelingwhich would prevent her from being walked off by a housekeeper whenmy corpse was lying within a few yards of her. It was badly stagemanaged; for even the rawest investigators must be struck by the absenceof the usual feminine ululation. If there had been nothing else, thisincident alone would have suggested a prearranged conspiracy to mymind.""You think then, definitely, that Barker and Mrs. Douglas are guilty ofthe murder?""There is an appalling directness about your questions, Watson," saidHolmes, shaking his pipe at me. "They come at me like bullets. If you putit that Mrs. Douglas and Barker know the truth about the murder, and areconspiring to conceal it, then I can give you a whole-souled answer. I amsure they do. But your more deadly proposition is not so clear. Let us fora moment consider the difficulties which stand in the way."We will suppose that this couple are united by the bonds of a guiltylove, and that they have determined to get rid of the man who standsbetween them. It is a large supposition; for discreet inquiry amongservants and others has failed to corroborate it in any way. On thecontrary, there is a good deal of evidence that the Douglases were veryattached to each other." [802] "That, I am sure, cannot be true," said I, thinking of the beautifulsmiling face in the garden."Well, at least they gave that impression. However, we will supposethat they are an extraordinarily astute couple, who deceive everyone uponthis point, and conspire to murder the husband. He happens to be a manover whose head some danger hangs- -""We have only their word for that."Holmes looked thoughtful. "I see, Watson. You are sketching out atheory by which everything they say from the beginning is false.According to your idea, there was never any hidden menace, or secretsociety, or Valley of Fear, or Boss MacSomebody, or anything else. Well,that is a good sweeping generalization. Let us see what that brings us to.They invent this theory to account for the crime. They then play up to theidea by leaving this bicycle in the park as proof of the existence of someoutsider. The stain on the windowsill conveys the same idea. So does thecard on the body, which might have been prepared in the house. That allfits into your hypothesis, Watson. But now we come on the nasty,angular, uncompromising bits which won't slip into their places. Why acut-off shotgun of all weapons-and an American one at that? How couldthey be so sure that the sound of it would not bring someone on to them?It's a mere chance as it is that Mrs. Allen did not start out to inquire forthe slamming door. Why did your guilty couple do all this, Watson?""I confess that I can't explain it.""Then again, if a woman and her lover conspire to murder a husband,are they going to advertise their guilt by ostentatiously removing hiswedding ring after his death? Does that strike you as very probable,Watson?""No, it does not.""And once again, if the thought of leaving a bicycle concealed outsidehad occurred to you, would it really have seemed worth doing when thedullest detective would naturally say this is an obvious blind, as thebicycle is the first thing which the fugitive needed in order to make hisescape.""I can conceive of no explanation.""And yet there should be no combination of events for which the wit ofman cannot conceive an explanation. Simply as a mental exercise,without any assertion that it is true, let me indicate a possible line ofthought. It is, I admit, mere imagination; but how often is imagination themother of truth?"We will suppose that there was a guilty secret, a really shameful secretin the life of this man Douglas. This leads to his murder by someone whois, we will suppose, an avenger, someone from outside. This avenger, forsome reason which I confess I am still at a loss to explain, took the deadman's wedding ring. The vendetta might conceivably date back to theman's first marriage, and the ring be taken for some such reason."Before this avenger got away, Barker and the wife had reached theroom. The assassin convinced them that any attempt to arrest him wouldlead to the publication of some hideous scandal. They were converted tothis idea, and preferred to let him go. For this purpose they probably lowered the bridge, which can be done quite noiselessly, and then raised itagain. He made his escape, and for some reason thought that he could doso more safely on foot than on the bicycle. He therefore left his machinewhere it would not be discovered until he had got safely away. So far weare within the bounds of possibility, are we not?"[803] "Well, it is possible, no doubt," said I, with some reserve."We have to remember, Watson, that whatever occurred is certainlysomething very extraordinary. Well, now, to continue our supposititiouscase, the couple -not necessarily a guilty couple-realize after themurderer is gone that they have placed themselves in a position in whichit may be difficult for them to prove that they did not themselves either dothe deed or connive at it. They rapidly and rather clumsily met thesituation. The mark was put by Barker's bloodstained slipper upon thewindowsill to suggest how the fugitive got away. They obviously werethe two who must have heard the sound of the gun; so they gave the alarmexactly as they would have done, but a good half hour after the event.""And how do you propose to prove all this?""Well, if there were an outsider, he may be traced and taken. Thatwould be the most effective of all proofs. But if not-well, the resources ofscience are far from being exhausted. I think that an evening alone in thatstudy would help me much.""An evening alone!""I propose to go up there presently. I have arranged it with theestimable Ames, who is by no means whole-hearted about Barker. I shallsit in that room and see if its atmosphere brings me inspiration. I'm abeliever in the genius loci. You smile, Friend Watson. Well, we shall see.By the way, you have that big unbrella of yours, have you not?""It is here.""Well, I'll borrow that if I may.""Certainly-but what a wretched weapon! If there is danger- -""Nothing serious, my dear Watson, or I should certainly ask for yourassistance. But I'll take the umbrella. At present I am only awaiting thereturn of our colleagues from Tunbridge Wells, where they are at presentengaged in trying for a likely owner to the bicycle."It was nightfall before Inspector MacDonald and White Mason cameback from their expedition, and they arrived exultant, reporting a greatadvance in our investigation."Man, I'll admeet that I had my doubts if there was ever an outsider,"said MacDonald; "but that's all past now. We've had the bicycleidentified, and we have a description of our man; so that's a long step onour journey.""It sounds to me like the beginning of the end," said Holmes. "I'm sureI congratulate you both with all my heart.""Well, I started from the fact that Mr. Douglas had seemed disturbedsince the day before, when he had been at Tunbridge Wells. It was atTunbridge Wells then that he had become conscious of some danger. Itwas clear, therefore, that if a man had come over with a bicycle it wasfrom Tunbridge Wells that he might be expected to have come. We tookthe bicycle over with us and showed it at the hotels. It was identified at once by the manager of the Eagle Commercial as belonging to a mannamed Hargrave, who had taken a room there two days before. Thisbicycle and a small valise were his whole belongings. He had registeredhis name as coming from London, but had given no address. The valisewas London made, and the contents were British; but the man himselfwas undoubtedly an American.""Well, well," said Holmes gleefully, "you have indeed done some solidwork [804] while I have been sitting spinning theories with my friend! It'sa lesson in being practical, Mr. Mac.""Ay, it's just that, Mr. Holmes," said the inspector with satisfaction."But this may all fit in with your theories," I remarked."That may or may not be. But let us hear the end, Mr. Mac. Was therenothing to identify this man?""So little that it was evident that he had carefully guarded himselfagainst identification. There were no papers or letters, and no markingupon the clothes. A cycle map of the county lay on his bedroom table. Hehad left the hotel after breakfast yesterday morning on his bicycle, and nomore was heard of him until our inquiries.""That's what puzzles me, Mr. Holmes," said White Mason. "If thefellow did not want the hue and cry raised over him, one would imaginethat he would have returned and remained at the hotel as an inoffensivetourist. As it is, he must know that he will be reported to the police by thehotel manager and that his disappearance will be connected with themurder.""So one would imagine. Still, he has been justified of his wisdom up todate, at any rate, since he has not been taken. But his description-what ofthat?"MacDonald referred to his notebook. "Here we have it so far as theycould give it. They don't seem to have taken any very particular stock ofhim; but still the porter, the clerk, and the chambermaid are all agreed thatthis about covers the points. He was a man about five foot nine in height,fifty or so years of age, his hair slightly grizzled, a grayish moustache, acurved nose, and a face which all of them described as fierce andforbidding.""Well, bar the expression, that might almost be a description ofDouglas himself," said Holmes. "He is just over fifty, with grizzled hairand moustache, and about the same height. Did you get anything else?""He was dressed in a heavy gray suit with a reefer jacket, and he wore ashort yellow overcoat and a soft cap.""What about the shotgun?""It is less than two feet long. It could very well have fitted into hisvalise. He could have carried it inside his overcoat without difficulty.""And how do you consider that all this bears upon the general case?""Well, Mr. Holmes," said MacDonald, "when we have got ourman-and you may be sure that I had his description on the wires withinfive minutes of hearing it-we shall be better able to judge. But, even as itstands, we have surely gone a long way. We know that an Americancalling himself Hargrave came to Tunbridge Wells two days ago withbicycle and valise. In the latter was a sawed-off shotgun; so he came with the deliberate purpose of crime. Yesterday morning he set off for thisplace on his bicycle, with his gun concealed in his overcoat. No one sawhim arrive, so far as we can learn; but he need not pass through the villageto reach the park gates, and there are many cyclists upon the road.Presumably he at once concealed his cycle among the laurels where it wasfound, and possibly lurked there himself, with his eye on the house,waiting for Mr. Douglas to come out. The shotgun is a strange weapon touse inside a house; but he had intended to use it outside, and there it hasvery obvious advantages, as it would be impossible to miss with it, andthe sound of shots is so common in an English sporting neighbourhoodthat no particular notice would be taken.""That is all very clear," said Holmes.[805] "Well, Mr. Douglas did not appear. What was he to do next? Heleft his bicycle and approached the house in the twilight. He found thebridge down and no one about. He took his chance, intending, no doubt,to make some excuse if he met anyone. He met no one. He slipped intothe first room that he saw, and concealed himself behind the curtain.Thence he could see the drawbridge go up, and he knew that his onlyescape was through the moat. He waited until quarter-past eleven, whenMr. Douglas upon his usual nightly round came into the room. He shothim and escaped, as arranged. He was aware that the bicycle would bedescribed by the hotel people and be a clue against him; so he left it thereand made his way by some other means to London or to some safe hidingplace which he had already arranged. How is that, Mr. Holmes?""Well, Mr. Mac, it is very good and very clear so far as it goes. That isyour end of the story. My end is that the crime was committed half anhour earlier than reported; that Mrs. Douglas and Barker are both in aconspiracy to conceal something; that they aided the murderer'sescape-or at least that they reached the room before he escaped-and thatthey fabricated evidence of his escape through the window, whereas in allprobability they had themselves let him go by lowering the bridge. That'smy reading of the first half."The two detectives shook their heads."Well, Mr. Holmes, if this is true, we only tumble out of one mysteryinto another," said the London inspector."And in some ways a worse one," added White Mason. "The lady hasnever been in America in all her life. What possible connection could shehave with an American assassin which would cause her to shelter him?""I freely admit the difficulties," said Holmes. "I propose to make a littleinvestigation of my own to-night, and it is just possible that it maycontribute something to the common cause.""Can we help you, Mr. Holmes?""No, no! Darkness and Dr. Watson's umbrella-my wants are simple.And Ames, the faithful Ames, no doubt he will stretch a point for me. Allmy lines of thought lead me back invariably to the one basicquestion-why should an athletic man develop his frame upon so unnaturalan instrument as a single dumb-bell?"It was late that night when Holmes returned from his solitary excursion.We slept in a double-bedded room, which was the best that the little country inn could do for us. I was already asleep when I was partlyawakened by his entrance."Well, Holmes," I murmured, "have you found anything out?"He stood beside me in silence, his candle in his hand. Then the tall, leanfigure inclined towards me. "I say, Watson," he whispered, "would yoube afraid to sleep in the same room with a lunatic, a man with softening ofthe brain, an idiot whose mind has lost its grip?""Not in the least," I answered in astonishment."Ah, that's lucky," he said, and not another word would he utter thatnight