Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

His Last Bow WISTERIA LODGE 1. THE SINGULAR EXPERIENCE OF MR. JOHN SCOTT ECCLES

I FIND it recorded in my notebook that it was a bleak and windy daytowards the end of March in the year 1892. Holmes had received atelegram while we sat at our lunch, and he had scribbled a reply. He madeno remark, but the matter remained in his thoughts, for he stood in frontof the fire afterwards with a thoughtful face, smoking his pipe, andcasting an occasional glance at the message. Suddenly he turned upon mewith a mischievous twinkle in his eyes."I suppose, Watson, we must look upon you as a man of letters," saidhe. "How do you define the word 'grotesque'?""Strange-remarkable," I suggested.He shook his head at my definition."There is surely something more than that," said he; "some underlyingsuggestion of the tragic and the terrible. If you cast your mind back tosome of those narratives with which you have afflicted a long-sufferingpublic, you will recognize how often the grotesque has deepened into thecriminal. Think of that little affair of the red-headed men. That wasgrotesque enough in the outset, and yet it ended in a desperate attempt at robbery. Or, again, there was that most grotesque affair of the five orangepips, which led straight to a murderous conspiracy. The word puts me onthe alert.""Have you it there?" I asked.He read the telegram aloud.[870] "Have just had most incredible and grotesque experience.May I consult you?"SCOTT ECCLES,"Post-Office, Charing Cross.""Man or woman?" I asked."Oh, man, of course. No woman would ever send a reply-paidtelegram. She would have come.""Will you see him?""My dear Watson, you know how bored I have been since we lockedup Colonel Carruthers. My mind is like a racing engine, tearing itself topieces because it is not connected up with the work for which it was built.Life is commonplace; the papers are sterile; audacity and romance seemto have passed forever from the criminal world. Can you ask me, then,whether I am ready to look into any new problem, however trivial it mayprove? But here, unless I am mistaken, is our client."A measured step was heard upon the stairs, and a moment later a stout,tall, gray-whiskered and solemnly respectable person was ushered into theroom. His life history was written in his heavy features and pompousmanner. From his spats to his gold-rimmed spectacles he was aConservative, a churchman, a good citizen, orthodox and conventional tothe last degree. But some amazing experience had disturbed his nativecomposure and left its traces in his bristling hair, his flushed, angrycheeks, and his flurried, excited manner. He plunged instantly into hisbusiness."I have had a most singular and unpleasant experience, Mr. Holmes,"said he. "Never in my life have I been placed in such a situation. It ismost improper-most outrageous. I must insist upon some explanation."He swelled and puffed in his anger."Pray sit down, Mr. Scott Eccles," said Holmes in a soothing voice."May I ask, in the first place, why you came to me at all?""Well, sir, it did not appear to be a matter which concerned the police,and yet, when you have heard the facts, you must admit that I could notleave it where it was. Private detectives are a class with whom I haveabsolutely no sympathy, but none the less, having heard your name- -""Quite so. But, in the second place, why did you not come at once?""What do you mean?"Holmes glanced at his watch."It is a quarter-past two," he said. "Your telegram was dispatched aboutone. But no one can glance at your toilet and attire without seeing thatyour disturbance dates from the moment of your waking."Our client smoothed down his unbrushed hair and felt his unshavenchin."You are right, Mr. Holmes. I never gave a thought to my toilet. I wasonly too glad to get out of such a house. But I have been running roundmaking inquiries before I came to you. I went to the house agents, youknow, and they said that Mr. Garcia's rent was paid up all right and thateverything was in order at Wisteria Lodge.""Come, come, sir," said Holmes, laughing. "You are like my friend, Dr.Watson, who has a bad habit of telling his stories wrong end foremost.Please arrange your thoughts and let me know, in their due sequence,exactly what those events are [871] which have sent you out unbrushedand unkempt, with dress boots and waistcoat buttoned awry, in search ofadvice and assistance."Our client looked down with a rueful face at his own unconventionalappearance."I'm sure it must look very bad, Mr. Holmes, and I am not aware thatin my whole life such a thing has ever happened before. But I will tell youthe whole queer business, and when I have done so you will admit, I amsure, that there has been enough to excuse me."But his narrative was nipped in the bud. There was a bustle outside, andMrs. Hudson opened the door to usher in two robust and official-lookingindividuals, one of whom was well known to us as Inspector Gregson ofScotland Yard, an energetic, gallant, and, within his limitations, a capableofficer. He shook hands with Holmes and introduced his comrade asInspector Baynes, of the Surrey Constabulary."We are hunting together, Mr. Holmes, and our trail lay in thisdirection." He turned his bulldog eyes upon our visitor. "Are you Mr.John Scott Eccles, of Popham House, Lee?""I am." "We have been following you about all the morning.""You traced him through the telegram, no doubt," said Holmes."Exactly, Mr. Holmes. We picked up the scent at Charing Cross PostOffice and came on here.""But why do you follow me? What do you want?""We wish a statement, Mr. Scott Eccles, as to the events which led upto the death last night of Mr. Aloysius Garcia, of Wisteria Lodge, nearEsher."Our client had sat up with staring eyes and every tinge of colour struckfrom his astonished face."Dead? Did you say he was dead?""Yes, sir, he is dead.""But how? An accident?""Murder, if ever there was one upon earth.""Good God! This is awful! You don't mean-you don't mean that I amsuspected?""A letter of yours was found in the dead man's pocket, and we know byit that you had planned to pass last night at his house.""So I did.""Oh, you did, did you?"Out came the official notebook."Wait a bit, Gregson," said Sherlock Holmes. "All you desire is a plainstatement, is it not?""And it is my duty to warn Mr. Scott Eccles that it may be used againsthim." "Mr. Eccles was going to tell us about it when you entered the room. Ithink, Watson, a brandy and soda would do him no harm. Now, sir, Isuggest that you take no notice of this addition to your audience, and thatyou proceed with your narrative exactly as you would have done had younever been interrupted."Our visitor had gulped off the brandy and the colour had returned to hisface. With a dubious glance at the inspector's notebook, he plunged atonce into his extraordinary statement."I am a bachelor," said he, "and being of a sociable turn I cultivate alarge number of friends. Among these are the family of a retired brewercalled Melville, living at Albemarle Mansion, Kensington. It was at histable that I met some weeks [872] ago a young fellow named Garcia. Hewas, I understood, of Spanish descent and connected in some way withthe embassy. He spoke perfect English, was pleasing in his manners, andas good-looking a man as ever I saw in my life."In some way we struck up quite a friendship, this young fellow and I.He seemed to take a fancy to me from the first, and within two days ofour meeting he came to see me at Lee. One thing led to another, and itended in his inviting me out to spend a few days at his house, WisteriaLodge, between Esher and Oxshott. Yesterday evening I went to Esher tofulfil this engagement."He had described his household to me before I went there. He livedwith a faithful servant, a countryman of his own, who looked after all hisneeds. This fellow could speak English and did his housekeeping for him.Then there was a wonderful cook, he said, a half-breed whom he hadpicked up in his travels, who could serve an excellent dinner. I rememberthat he remarked what a queer household it was to find in the heart ofSurrey, and that I agreed with him, though it has proved a good dealqueerer than I thought."I drove to the place-about two miles on the south side of Esher. Thehouse was a fair-sized one, standing back from the road, with a curvingdrive which was banked with high evergreen shrubs. It was an old,tumble-down building in a crazy state of disrepair. When the trap pulledup on the grass-grown drive in front of the blotched and weather-staineddoor, I had doubts as to my wisdom in visiting a man whom I knew soslightly. He opened the door himself, however, and greeted me with agreat show of cordiality. I was handed over to the manservant, amelancholy, swarthy individual, who led the way, my bag in his hand, tomy bedroom. The whole place was depressing. Our dinner was tête-à-tête,and though my host did his best to be entertaining, his thoughts seemed tocontinually wander, and he talked so vaguely and wildly that I couldhardly understand him. He continually drummed his fingers on the table,gnawed his nails, and gave other signs of nervous impatience. The dinneritself was neither well served nor well cooked, and the gloomy presenceof the taciturn servant did not help to enliven us. I can assure you thatmany times in the course of the evening I wished that I could invent someexcuse which would take me back to Lee."One thing comes back to my memory which may have a bearing uponthe business that you two gentlemen are investigating. I thought nothing of it at the time. Near the end of dinner a note was handed in by theservant. I noticed that after my host had read it he seemed even moredistrait and strange than before. He gave up all pretence at conversationand sat, smoking endless cigarettes, lost in his own thoughts, but he madeno remark as to the contents. About eleven I was glad to go to bed. Sometime later Garcia looked in at my door-the room was dark at the time-andasked me if I had rung. I said that I had not. He apologized for havingdisturbed me so late, saying that it was nearly one o'clock. I dropped offafter this and slept soundly all night."And now I come to the amazing part of my tale. When I woke it wasbroad daylight. I glanced at my watch, and the time was nearly nine. I hadparticularly asked to be called at eight, so I was very much astonished atthis forgetfulness. I sprang up and rang for the servant. There was noresponse. I rang again and again, with the same result. Then I came to theconclusion that the bell was out of order. I huddled on my clothes andhurried downstairs in an exceedingly bad temper to order some hot water.You can imagine my surprise when I found that there was no one there. Ishouted in the hall. There was no answer. Then I ran from room to [873]room. All were deserted. My host had shown me which was his bedroomthe night before, so I knocked at the door. No reply. I turned the handleand walked in. The room was empty, and the bed had never been slept in.He had gone with the rest. The foreign host, the foreign footman, theforeign cook, all had vanished in the night! That was the end of my visitto Wisteria Lodge."Sherlock Holmes was rubbing his hands and chuckling as he added thisbizarre incident to his collection of strange episodes."Your experience is, so far as I know, perfectly unique," said he. "MayI ask, sir, what you did then?""I was furious. My first idea was that I had been the victim of someabsurd practical joke. I packed my things, banged the hall door behindme, and set off for Esher, with my bag in my hand. I called at AllanBrothers', the chief land agents in the village, and found that it was fromthis firm that the villa had been rented. It struck me that the wholeproceeding could hardly be for the purpose of making a fool of me, andthat the main object must be to get out of the rent. It is late in March, soquarter-day is at hand. But this theory would not work. The agent wasobliged to me for my warning, but told me that the rent had been paid inadvance. Then I made my way to town and called at the Spanish embassy.The man was unknown there. After this I went to see Melville, at whosehouse I had first met Garcia, but I found that he really knew rather lessabout him than I did. Finally when I got your reply to my wire I came outto you, since I gather that you are a person who gives advice in difficultcases. But now, Mr. Inspector, I understand, from what you said whenyou entered the room, that you can carry the story on, and that sometragedy has occurred. I can assure you that every word I have said is thetruth, and that, outside of what I have told you, I know absolutely nothingabout the fate of this man. My only desire is to help the law in everypossible way.""I am sure of it, Mr. Scott Eccles-I am sure of it," said Inspector Gregson in a very amiable tone. "I am bound to say that everything whichyou have said agrees very closely with the facts as they have come to ournotice. For example, there was that note which arrived during dinner. Didyou chance to observe what became of it?""Yes, I did. Garcia rolled it up and threw it into the fire.""What do you say to that, Mr. Baynes?"The country detective was a stout, puffy, red man, whose face was onlyredeemed from grossness by two extraordinarily bright eyes, almosthidden behind the heavy creases of cheek and brow. With a slow smile hedrew a folded and discoloured scrap of paper from his pocket."It was a dog-grate, Mr. Holmes, and he overpitched it. I picked thisout unburned from the back of it."Holmes smiled his appreciation."You must have examined the house very carefully to find a singlepellet of paper.""I did, Mr. Holmes. It's my way. Shall I read it, Mr. Gregson?"The Londoner nodded."The note is written upon ordinary cream-laid paper withoutwatermark. It is a quarter-sheet. The paper is cut off in two snips with ashort-bladed scissors. It has been folded over three times and sealed withpurple wax, put on hurriedly and pressed down with some flat oval object.It is addressed to Mr. Garcia, Wisteria Lodge. It says:[874] "Our own colours, green and white. Green open, whiteshut. Main stair, first corridor, seventh right, green baize.Godspeed. D.It is a woman's writing, done with a sharp-pointed pen, but the address is either done with another pen or by someone else. It is thicker and bolder,as you see.""A very remarkable note," said Holmes, glancing it over. "I mustcompliment you, Mr. Baynes, upon your attention to detail in yourexamination of it. A few trifling points might perhaps be added. The ovalseal is undoubtedly a plain sleeve-link-what else is of such a shape? Thescissors were bent nail scissors. Short as the two snips are, you candistinctly see the same slight curve in each."The country detective chuckled."I thought I had squeezed all the juice out of it, but I see there was alittle over," he said. "I'm bound to say that I make nothing of the noteexcept that there was something on hand, and that a woman, as usual, wasat the bottom of it."Mr. Scott Eccles had fidgeted in his seat during this conversation."I am glad you found the note, since it corroborates my story," said he."But I beg to point out that I have not yet heard what has happened to Mr.Garcia, nor what has become of his household.""As to Garcia," said Gregson, "that is easily answered. He was founddead this morning upon Oxshott Common, nearly a mile from his home.His head had been smashed to pulp by heavy blows of a sandbag or somesuch instrument, which had crushed rather than wounded. It is a lonelycorner, and there is no house within a quarter of a mile of the spot. He hadapparently been struck down first from behind, but his assailant had goneon beating him long after he was dead. It was a most furious assault.There are no footsteps nor any clue to the criminals.""Robbed?""No, there was no attempt at robbery.""This is very painful-very painful and terrible," said Mr. Scott Ecclesin a querulous voice, "but it is really uncommonly hard upon me. I hadnothing to do with my host going off upon a nocturnal excursion andmeeting so sad an end. How do I come to be mixed up with the case?""Very simply, sir," Inspector Baynes answered. "The only documentfound in the pocket of the deceased was a letter from you saying that youwould be with him on the night of his death. It was the envelope of thisletter which gave us the dead man's name and address. It was after ninethis morning when we reached his house and found neither you noranyone else inside it. I wired to Mr. Gregson to run you down in Londonwhile I examined Wisteria Lodge. Then I came into town, joined Mr.Gregson, and here we are.""I think now," said Gregson, rising, "we had best put this matter into anofficial shape. You will come round with us to the station, Mr. ScottEccles, and let us have your statement in writing.""Certainly, I will come at once. But I retain your services, Mr. Holmes.I desire you to spare no expense and no pains to get at the truth."My friend turned to the country inspector."I suppose that you have no objection to my collaborating with you,Mr. Baynes?""Highly honoured, sir, I am sure.""You appear to have been very prompt and business-like in all that you have done. Was there any clue, may I ask, as to the exact hour that theman met his death?"[875] "He had been there since one o'clock. There was rain about thattime, and his death had certainly been before the rain.""But that is perfectly impossible, Mr. Baynes," cried our client. "Hisvoice is unmistakable. I could swear to it that it was he who addressed mein my bedroom at that very hour.""Remarkable, but by no means impossible," said Holmes, smiling."You have a clue?" asked Gregson."On the face of it the case is not a very complex one, though it certainlypresents some novel and interesting features. A further knowledge of factsis necessary before I would venture to give a final and definite opinion.By the way, Mr. Baynes, did you find anything remarkable besides thisnote in your examination of the house?"The detective looked at my friend in a singular way."There were," said he, "one or two very remarkable things. Perhapswhen I have finished at the police-station you would care to come out andgive me your opinion of them.""I am entirely at your service," said Sherlock Holmes, ringing the bell."You will show these gentlemen out, Mrs. Hudson, and kindly send theboy with this telegram. He is to pay a five-shilling reply."We sat for some time in silence after our visitors had left. Holmessmoked hard, with his brows drawn down over his keen eyes, and hishead thrust forward in the eager way characteristic of the man."Well, Watson," he asked, turning suddenly upon me, "what do youmake of it?""I can make nothing of this mystification of Scott Eccles.""But the crime?""Well, taken with the disappearance of the man's companions, I shouldsay that they were in some way concerned in the murder and had fledfrom justice.""That is certainly a possible point of view. On the face of it you mustadmit, however, that it is very strange that his two servants should havebeen in a conspiracy against him and should have attacked him on the onenight when he had a guest. They had him alone at their mercy every othernight in the week.""Then why did they fly?""Quite so. Why did they fly? There is a big fact. Another big fact is theremarkable experience of our client, Scott Eccles. Now, my dear Watson,is it beyond the limits of human ingenuity to furnish an explanation whichwould cover both these big facts? If it were one which would also admitof the mysterious note with its very curious phraseology, why, then itwould be worth accepting as a temporary hypothesis. If the fresh factswhich come to our knowledge all fit themselves into the scheme, then ourhypothesis may gradually become a solution.""But what is our hypothesis?"Holmes leaned back in his chair with half-closed eyes."You must admit, my dear Watson, that the idea of a joke isimpossible. There were grave events afoot, as the sequel showed, and the coaxing of Scott Eccles to Wisteria Lodge had some connection withthem.""But what possible connection?""Let us take it link by link. There is, on the face of it, somethingunnatural about this strange and sudden friendship between the youngSpaniard and Scott Eccles. It was the former who forced the pace. Hecalled upon Eccles at the other end of London on the very day after hefirst met him, and he kept in close touch [876] with him until he got himdown to Esher. Now, what did he want with Eccles? What could Ecclessupply? I see no charm in the man. He is not particularly intelligent-not aman likely to be congenial to a quick-witted Latin. Why, then, was hepicked out from all the other people whom Garcia met as particularlysuited to his purpose? Has he any one outstanding quality? I say that hehas. He is the very type of conventional British respectability, and thevery man as a witness to impress another Briton. You saw yourself howneither of the inspectors dreamed of questioning his statement,extraordinary as it was.""But what was he to witness?""Nothing, as things turned out, but everything had they gone anotherway. That is how I read the matter.""I see, he might have proved an alibi.""Exactly, my dear Watson; he might have proved an alibi. We willsuppose, for argument's sake, that the household of Wisteria Lodge areconfederates in some design. The attempt, whatever it may be, is to comeoff, we will say, before one o'clock. By some juggling of the clocks it isquite possible that they may have got Scott Eccles to bed earlier than hethought, but in any case it is likely that when Garcia went out of his wayto tell him that it was one it was really not more than twelve. If Garciacould do whatever he had to do and be back by the hour mentioned he hadevidently a powerful reply to any accusation. Here was this irreproachableEnglishman ready to swear in any court of law that the accused was in hishouse all the time. It was an insurance against the worst.""Yes, yes, I see that. But how about the disappearance of the others?""I have not all my facts yet, but I do not think there are any insuperabledifficulties. Still, it is an error to argue in front of your data. You findyourself insensibly twisting them round to fit your theories.""And the message?""How did it run? 'Our own colours, green and white.' Sounds likeracing. 'Green open, white shut.' That is clearly a signal. 'Main stair, firstcorridor, seventh right, green baize.' This is an assignation. We may finda jealous husband at the bottom of it all. It was clearly a dangerous quest.She would not have said 'Godspeed' had it not been so. 'D'-that shouldbe a guide.""The man was a Spaniard. I suggest that 'D' stands for Dolores, acommon female name in Spain.""Good, Watson, very good-but quite inadmissible. A Spaniard wouldwrite to a Spaniard in Spanish. The writer of this note is certainly English.Well, we can only possess our souls in patience until this excellentinspector comes back for us. Meanwhile we can thank our lucky fate which has rescued us for a few short hours from the insufferable fatiguesof idleness."An answer had arrived to Holmes's telegram before our Surrey officerhad returned. Holmes read it and was about to place it in his notebookwhen he caught a glimpse of my expectant face. He tossed it across with alaugh."We are moving in exalted circles," said he.The telegram was a list of names and addresses:Lord Harringby, The Dingle; Sir George Ffolliott, OxshottTowers; Mr. Hynes Hynes, J. P., Purdey Place; Mr. James BakerWilliams, Forton Old Hall; Mr. Henderson, High Gable; Rev.Joshua Stone, Nether Walsling.[877] "This is a very obvious way of limiting our field of operations,"said Holmes. "No doubt Baynes, with his methodical mind, has alreadyadopted some similar plan.""I don't quite understand.""Well, my dear fellow, we have already arrived at the conclusion thatthe message received by Garcia at dinner was an appointment or anassignation. Now, if the obvious reading of it is correct, and in order tokeep this tryst one has to ascend a main stair and seek the seventh door ina corridor, it is perfectly clear that the house is a very large one. It isequally certain that this house cannot be more than a mile or two fromOxshott, since Garcia was walking in that direction and hoped, accordingto my reading of the facts, to be back in Wisteria Lodge in time to avail himself of an alibi, which would only be valid up to one o'clock. As thenumber of large houses close to Oxshott must be limited, I adopted theobvious method of sending to the agents mentioned by Scott Eccles andobtaining a list of them. Here they are in this telegram, and the other endof our tangled skein must lie among them."It was nearly six o'clock before we found ourselves in the pretty Surreyvillage of Esher, with Inspector Baynes as our companion.Holmes and I had taken things for the night, and found comfortablequarters at the Bull. Finally we set out in the company of the detective onour visit to Wisteria Lodge. It was a cold, dark March evening, with asharp wind and a fine rain beating upon our faces, a fit setting for the wildcommon over which our road passed and the tragic goal to which it led us.