Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

The Case-Book of Sherlock Holmes SHOSCOMBE OLD PLACE

SHERLOCK HOLMES had been bending for a long time over a low-powermicroscope. Now he straightened himself up and looked round at me intriumph."It is glue, Watson," said he. "Unquestionably it is glue. Have a look atthese scattered objects in the field!"I stooped to the eyepiece and focussed for my vision."Those hairs are threads from a tweed coat. The irregular gray massesare dust. There are epithelial scales on the left. Those brown blobs in thecentre are undoubtedly glue.""Well," I said, laughing, "I am prepared to take your word for it. Doesanything depend upon it?""It is a very fine demonstration," he answered. "In the St. Pancras caseyou may remember that a cap was found beside the dead policeman. Theaccused man denies that it is his. But he is a picture-frame maker whohabitually handles glue.""Is it one of your cases?""No; my friend, Merivale, of the Yard, asked me to look into the case.Since I ran down that coiner by the zinc and copper filings in the seam ofhis cuff they have begun to realize the importance of the microscope." Helooked impatiently at his watch. "I had a new client calling, but he isoverdue. By the way, Watson, you know something of racing?""I ought to. I pay for it with about half my wound pension." "Then I'll make you my 'Handy Guide to the Turf.' What about SirRobert Norberton? Does the name recall anything?""Well, I should say so. He lives at Shoscombe Old Place, and I know itwell, for my summer quarters were down there once. Norberton nearlycame within your province once.""How was that?""It was when he horsewhipped Sam Brewer, the well-known CurzonStreet money-lender, on Newmarket Heath. He nearly killed the man.""Ah, he sounds interesting! Does he often indulge in that way?""Well, he has the name of being a dangerous man. He is about the mostdaredevil rider in England-second in the Grand National a few yearsback. He is one of those men who have overshot their true generation. Heshould have been a [1103] buck in the days of the Regency-a boxer, anathlete, a plunger on the turf, a lover of fair ladies, and, by all account, sofar down Queer Street that he may never find his way back again.""Capital, Watson! A thumb-nail sketch. I seem to know the man. Now,can you give me some idea of Shoscombe Old Place?""Only that it is in the centre of Shoscombe Park, and that the famousShoscombe stud and training quarters are to be found there.""And the head trainer," said Holmes, "is John Mason. You need notlook surprised at my knowledge, Watson, for this is a letter from himwhich I am unfolding. But let us have some more about Shoscombe. Iseem to have struck a rich vein.""There are the Shoscombe spaniels," said I. "You hear of them at everydog show. The most exclusive breed in England. They are the specialpride of the lady of Shoscombe Old Place.""Sir Robert Norberton's wife, I presume!""Sir Robert has never married. Just as well, I think, considering hisprospects. He lives with his widowed sister, Lady Beatrice Falder.""You mean that she lives with him?""No, no. The place belonged to her late husband, Sir James. Norbertonhas no claim on it at all. It is only a life interest and reverts to herhusband's brother. Meantime, she draws the rents every year.""And brother Robert, I suppose, spends the said rents?""That is about the size of it. He is a devil of a fellow and must lead hera most uneasy life. Yet I have heard that she is devoted to him. But whatis amiss at Shoscombe?""Ah, that is just what I want to know. And here, I expect, is the manwho can tell us."The door had opened and the page had shown in a tall, clean-shavenman with the firm, austere expression which is only seen upon those whohave to control horses or boys. Mr. John Mason had many of both underhis sway, and he looked equal to the task. He bowed with cold selfpossession and seated himself upon the chair to which Holmes had wavedhim."You had my note, Mr. Holmes?""Yes, but it explained nothing.""It was too delicate a thing for me to put the details on paper. And toocomplicated. It was only face to face I could do it." "Well, we are at your disposal.""First of all, Mr. Holmes, I think that my employer, Sir Robert, hasgone mad."Holmes raised his eyebrows. "This is Baker Street, not Harley Street,"said he. "But why do you say so?""Well, sir, when a man does one queer thing, or two queer things, theremay be a meaning to it, but when everything he does is queer, then youbegin to wonder. I believe Shoscombe Prince and the Derby have turnedhis brain.""That is a colt you are running?""The best in England, Mr. Holmes. I should know, if anyone does.Now, I'll be plain with you, for I know you are gentlemen of honour andthat it won't go beyond the room. Sir Robert has got to win this Derby.He's up to the neck, and it's his last chance. Everything he could raise orborrow is on the horse -and at fine odds, [1104] too! You can get fortiesnow, but it was nearer the hundred when he began to back him.""But how is that if the horse is so good?""The public don't know how good he is. Sir Robert has been too cleverfor the touts. He has the Prince's half-brother out for spins. You can't tell'em apart. But there are two lengths in a furlong between them when itcomes to a gallop. He thinks of nothing but the horse and the race. Hiswhole life is on it. He's holding off the Jews till then. If the Prince failshim he is done.""It seems a rather desperate gamble, but where does the madness comein?""Well, first of all, you have only to look at him. I don't believe hesleeps at night. He is down at the stables at all hours. His eyes are wild. Ithas all been too much for his nerves. Then there is his conduct to LadyBeatrice!""Ah! What is that?""They have always been the best of friends. They had the same tastes,the two of them, and she loved the horses as much as he did. Every day atthe same hour she would drive down to see them-and, above all, sheloved the Prince. He would prick up his ears when he heard the wheels onthe gravel, and he would trot out each morning to the carriage to get hislump of sugar. But that's all over now.""Why?""Well, she seems to have lost all interest in the horses. For a week nowshe has driven past the stables with never so much as 'Good-morning'!""You think there has been a quarrel?""And a bitter, savage, spiteful quarrel at that. Why else would he giveaway her pet spaniel that she loved as if he were her child? He gave it afew days ago to old Barnes, what keeps the Green Dragon, three milesoff, at Crendall.""That certainly did seem strange.""Of course, with her weak heart and dropsy one couldn't expect thatshe could get about with him, but he spent two hours every evening in herroom. He might well do what he could, for she has been a rare goodfriend to him. But that's all over, too. He never goes near her. And she takes it to heart. She is brooding and sulky and drinking, Mr.Holmes-drinking like a fish.""Did she drink before this estrangement?""Well, she took her glass, but now it is often a whole bottle of anevening. So Stephens, the butler, told me. It's all changed, Mr. Holmes,and there is something damned rotten about it. But then, again, what ismaster doing down at the old church crypt at night? And who is the manthat meets him there?"Holmes rubbed his hands."Go on, Mr. Mason. You get more and more interesting.""It was the butler who saw him go. Twelve o'clock at night and raininghard. So next night I was up at the house and, sure enough, master was offagain. Stephens and I went after him, but it was jumpy work, for it wouldhave been a bad job if he had seen us. He's a terrible man with his fists ifhe gets started, and no respecter of persons. So we were shy of getting toonear, but we marked him down all right. It was the haunted crypt that hewas making for, and there was a man waiting for him there.""What is this haunted crypt?""Well, sir, there is an old ruined chapel in the park. It is so old thatnobody could fix its date. And under it there's a crypt which has a badname among us. It's a dark, damp, lonely place by day, but there are fewin that county that would [1105] have the nerve to go near it at night. Butmaster's not afraid. He never feared anything in his life. But what is hedoing there in the night-time?""Wait a bit!" said Holmes. "You say there is another man there. It mustbe one of your own stablemen, or someone from the house! Surely youhave only to spot who it is and question him?""It's no one I know.""How can you say that?""Because I have seen him, Mr. Holmes. It was on that second night. SirRobert turned and passed us-me and Stephens, quaking in the bushes liketwo bunny-rabbits, for there was a bit of moon that night. But we couldhear the other moving about behind. We were not afraid of him. So we upwhen Sir Robert was gone and pretended we were just having a walk likein the moonlight, and so we came right on him as casual and innocent asyou please. 'Hullo, mate! who may you be?' says I. I guess he had notheard us coming, so he looked over his shoulder with a face as if he hadseen the devil coming out of hell. He let out a yell, and away he went ashard as he could lick it in the darkness. He could run!-I'll give him that.In a minute he was out of sight and hearing, and who he was, or what hewas, we never found.""But you saw him clearly in the moonlight?""Yes, I would swear to his yellow face-a mean dog, I should say. Whatcould he have in common with Sir Robert?"Holmes sat for some time lost in thought."Who keeps Lady Beatrice Falder company?" he asked at last."There is her maid, Carrie Evans. She has been with her this five years.""And is, no doubt, devoted?"Mr. Mason shuffled uncomfortably."She's devoted enough," he answered at last. "But I won't say towhom.""Ah!" said Holmes."I can't tell tales out of school.""I quite understand, Mr. Mason. Of course, the situation is clearenough. From Dr. Watson's description of Sir Robert I can realize that nowoman is safe from him. Don't you think the quarrel between brother andsister may lie there?""Well, the scandal has been pretty clear for a long time.""But she may not have seen it before. Let us suppose that she hassuddenly found it out. She wants to get rid of the woman. Her brother willnot permit it. The invalid, with her weak heart and inability to get about,has no means of enforcing her will. The hated maid is still tied to her. Thelady refuses to speak, sulks, takes to drink. Sir Robert in his anger takesher pet spaniel away from her. Does not all this hang together?""Well, it might do-so far as it goes." "Exactly! As far as it goes. How would all that bear upon the visits bynight to the old crypt? We can't fit that into our plot.""No, sir, and there is something more that I can't fit in. Why should SirRobert want to dig up a dead body?"Holmes sat up abruptly."We only found it out yesterday-after I had written to you. YesterdaySir Robert had gone to London, so Stephens and I went down to the crypt.It was all in order, sir, except that in one corner was a bit of a humanbody.""You informed the police, I suppose?"[1106] Our visitor smiled grimly."Well, sir, I think it would hardly interest them. It was just the head anda few bones of a mummy. It may have been a thousand years old. But itwasn't there before. That I'll swear, and so will Stephens. It had beenstowed away in a corner and covered over with a board, but that cornerhad always been empty before.""What did you do with it?""Well, we just left it there.""That was wise. You say Sir Robert was away yesterday. Has hereturned?""We expect him back to-day.""When did Sir Robert give away his sister's dog?""It was just a week ago to-day. The creature was howling outside theold well-house, and Sir Robert was in one of his tantrums that morning.He caught it up, and I thought he would have killed it. Then he gave it toSandy Bain, the jockey, and told him to take the dog to old Barnes at theGreen Dragon, for he never wished to see it again."Holmes sat for some time in silent thought. He had lit the oldest andfoulest of his pipes."I am not clear yet what you want me to do in this matter, Mr. Mason,"he said at last. "Can't you make it more definite?""Perhaps this will make it more definite, Mr. Holmes," said our visitor.He took a paper from his pocket, and, unwrapping it carefully, heexposed a charred fragment of bone.Holmes examined it with interest."Where did you get it?""There is a central heating furnace in the cellar under Lady Beatrice'sroom. It's been off for some time, but Sir Robert complained of cold andhad it on again. Harvey runs it-he's one of my lads. This very morning hecame to me with this which he found raking out the cinders. He didn'tlike the look of it.""Nor do I," said Holmes. "What do you make of it, Watson?"It was burned to a black cinder, but there could be no question as to itsanatomical significance."It's the upper condyle of a human femur," said I."Exactly!" Holmes had become very serious. "When does this lad tendto the furnace?""He makes it up every evening and then leaves it.""Then anyone could visit it during the night?" "Yes, sir.""Can you enter it from outside?""There is one door from outside. There is another which leads up by astair to the passage in which Lady Beatrice's room is situated.""These are deep waters, Mr. Mason; deep and rather dirty. You say thatSir Robert was not at home last night?""No, sir.""Then, whoever was burning bones, it was not he.""That's true, sir.""What is the name of that inn you spoke of?""The Green Dragon.""Is there good fishing in that part of Berkshire?" The honest trainershowed [1107] very clearly upon his face that he was convinced that yetanother lunatic had come into his harassed life."Well, sir, I've heard there are trout in the mill-stream and pike in theHall lake.""That's good enough. Watson and I are famous fishermen-are we not,Watson? You may address us in future at the Green Dragon. We shouldreach it to-night. I need not say that we don't want to see you, Mr. Mason,but a note will reach us, and no doubt I could find you if I want you.When we have gone a little farther into the matter I will let you have aconsidered opinion."Thus it was that on a bright May evening Holmes and I found ourselvesalone in a first-class carriage and bound for the little "halt-on-demand"station of Shoscombe. The rack above us was covered with a formidablelitter of rods, reels, and baskets. On reaching our destination a short drivetook us to an old-fashioned tavern, where a sporting host, Josiah Barnes,entered eagerly into our plans for the extirpation of the fish of theneighbourhood."What about the Hall lake and the chance of a pike?" said Holmes.The face of the innkeeper clouded."That wouldn't do, sir. You might chance to find yourself in the lakebefore you were through.""How's that, then?""It's Sir Robert, sir. He's terrible jealous of touts. If you two strangerswere as near his training quarters as that he'd be after you as sure as fate.He ain't taking no chances, Sir Robert ain't.""I've heard he has a horse entered for the Derby.""Yes, and a good colt, too. He carries all our money for the race, and allSir Robert's into the bargain. By the way"-he looked at us withthoughtful eyes-"I suppose you ain't on the turf yourselves?""No, indeed. Just two weary Londoners who badly need some goodBerkshire air.""Well, you are in the right place for that. There is a deal of it lyingabout. But mind what I have told you about Sir Robert. He's the sort thatstrikes first and speaks afterwards. Keep clear of the park.""Surely, Mr. Barnes! We certainly shall. By the way, that was a mostbeautiful spaniel that was whining in the hall.""I should say it was. That was the real Shoscombe breed. There ain't a better in England.""I am a dog-fancier myself," said Holmes. "Now, if it is a fair question,what would a prize dog like that cost?""More than I could pay, sir. It was Sir Robert himself who gave me thisone. That's why I have to keep it on a lead. It would be off to the Hall in ajiffy if I gave it its head.""We are getting some cards in our hand, Watson," said Holmes whenthe landlord had left us. "It's not an easy one to play, but we may see ourway in a day or two. By the way, Sir Robert is still in London, I hear. Wemight, perhaps, enter the sacred domain to-night without fear of bodilyassault. There are one or two points on which I should like reassurance.""Have you any theory, Holmes?""Only this, Watson, that something happened a week or so ago whichhas cut deep into the life of the Shoscombe household. What is thatsomething? We can [1108] only guess at it from its effects. They seem tobe of a curiously mixed character. But that should surely help us. It isonly the colourless, uneventful case which is hopeless."Let us consider our data. The brother no longer visits the belovedinvalid sister. He gives away her favourite dog. Her dog, Watson! Doesthat suggest nothing to you?""Nothing but the brother's spite.""Well, it might be so. Or-well, there is an alternative. Now to continueour review of the situation from the time that the quarrel, if there is aquarrel, began. The lady keeps her room, alters her habits, is not seen savewhen she drives out with her maid, refuses to stop at the stables to greether favourite horse, and apparently takes to drink. That covers the case,does it not?""Save for the business in the crypt.""That is another line of thought. There are two, and I beg you will nottangle them. Line A, which concerns Lady Beatrice, has a vaguely sinisterflavour, has it not?""I can make nothing of it.""Well, now, let us take up line B, which concerns Sir Robert. He is madkeen upon winning the Derby. He is in the hands of the Jews, and may atany moment be sold up and his racing stables seized by his creditors. Heis a daring and desperate man. He derives his income from his sister. Hissister's maid is his willing tool. So far we seem to be on fairly safeground, do we not?""But the crypt?""Ah, yes, the crypt! Let us suppose, Watson-it is merely a scandaloussupposition, a hypothesis put forward for argument's sake-that Sir Roberthas done away with his sister.""My dear Holmes, it is out of the question.""Very possibly, Watson. Sir Robert is a man of an honourable stock.But you do occasionally find a carrion crow among the eagles. Let us fora moment argue upon this supposition. He could not fly the country untilhe had realized his fortune, and that fortune could only be realized bybringing off this coup with Shoscombe Prince. Therefore, he has still tostand his ground. To do this he would have to dispose of the body of his victim, and he would also have to find a substitute who wouldimpersonate her. With the maid as his confidante that would not beimpossible. The woman's body might be conveyed to the crypt, which isa place so seldom visited, and it might be secretly destroyed at night inthe furnace, leaving behind it such evidence as we have already seen.What say you to that, Watson?""Well, it is all possible if you grant the original monstrous supposition.""I think that there is a small experiment which we may try to-morrow,Watson, in order to throw some light on the matter. Meanwhile, if wemean to keep up our characters, I suggest that we have our host in for aglass of his own wine and hold some high converse upon eels and dace,which seems to be the straight road to his affections. We may chance tocome upon some useful local gossip in the process."In the morning Holmes discovered that we had come without our spoonbait for jack, which absolved us from fishing for the day. About eleveno'clock we started for a walk, and he obtained leave to take the blackspaniel with us."This is the place," said he as we came to two high park gates withheraldic griffins towering above them. "About midday, Mr. Barnesinforms me, the old [1109] lady takes a drive, and the carriage must slowdown while the gates are opened. When it comes through, and before itgathers speed, I want you, Watson, to stop the coachman with somequestion. Never mind me. I shall stand behind this holly-bush and seewhat I can see."It was not a long vigil. Within a quarter of an hour we saw the big openyellow barouche coming down the long avenue, with two splendid, highstepping gray carriage horses in the shafts. Holmes crouched behind hisbush with the dog. I stood unconcernedly swinging a cane in the roadway.A keeper ran out and the gates swung open.The carriage had slowed to a walk, and I was able to get a good look atthe occupants. A highly coloured young woman with flaxen hair andimpudent eyes sat on the left. At her right was an elderly person withrounded back and a huddle of shawls about her face and shoulders whichproclaimed the invalid. When the horses reached the highroad I held upmy hand with an authoritative gesture, and as the coachman pulled up Iinquired if Sir Robert was at Shoscombe Old Place.At the same moment Holmes stepped out and released the spaniel. Witha joyous cry it dashed forward to the carriage and sprang upon the step.Then in a moment its eager greeting changed to furious rage, and itsnapped at the black skirt above it."Drive on! Drive on!" shrieked a harsh voice. The coachman lashed thehorses, and we were left standing in the roadway."Well, Watson, that's done it," said Holmes as he fastened the lead tothe neck of the excited spaniel. "He thought it was his mistress, and hefound it was a stranger. Dogs don't make mistakes.""But it was the voice of a man!" I cried."Exactly! We have added one card to our hand, Watson, but it needscareful playing, all the same."My companion seemed to have no further plans for the day, and we didactually use our fishing tackle in the mill-stream, with the result that wehad a dish of trout for our supper. It was only after that meal that Holmesshowed signs of renewed activity. Once more we found ourselves uponthe same road as in the morning, which led us to the park gates. A tall,dark figure was awaiting us there, who proved to be our Londonacquaintance, Mr. John Mason, the trainer."Good-evening, gentlemen," said he. "I got your note, Mr. Holmes. SirRobert has not returned yet, but I hear that he is expected to-night.""How far is this crypt from the house?" asked Holmes."A good quarter of a mile.""Then I think we can disregard him altogether.""I can't afford to do that, Mr. Holmes. The moment he arrives he willwant to see me to get the last news of Shoscombe Prince.""I see! In that case we must work without you, Mr. Mason. You canshow us the crypt and then leave us."It was pitch-dark and without a moon, but Mason led us over the grass-lands until a dark mass loomed up in front of us which proved to be theancient chapel. We entered the broken gap which was once the porch, andour guide, stumbling among heaps of loose masonry, picked his way tothe corner of the building, where a steep stair led down into the crypt.Striking a match, he illuminated the melancholy place-dismal and evilsmelling, with ancient crumbling walls of rough-hewn stone, and piles ofcoffins, some of lead and some of stone, extending upon one [1110] sideright up to the arched and groined roof which lost itself in the shadowsabove our heads. Holmes had lit his lantern, which shot a tiny tunnel ofvivid yellow light upon the mournful scene. Its rays were reflected backfrom the coffin-plates, many of them adorned with the griffin and coronetof this old family which carried its honours even to the gate of Death."You spoke of some bones, Mr. Mason. Could you show them beforeyou go?""They are here in this corner." The trainer strode across and then stoodin silent surprise as our light was turned upon the place. "They are gone,"said he."So I expected," said Holmes, chuckling. "I fancy the ashes of themmight even now be found in that oven which had already consumed apart.""But why in the world would anyone want to burn the bones of a manwho has been dead a thousand years?" asked John Mason."That is what we are here to find out," said Holmes. "It may mean along search, and we need not detain you. I fancy that we shall get our solution before morning."When John Mason had left us, Holmes set to work making a verycareful examination of the graves, ranging from a very ancient one, whichappeared to be Saxon, in the centre, through a long line of Norman Hugosand Odos, until we reached the Sir William and Sir Denis Falder of theeighteenth century. It was an hour or more before Holmes came to aleaden coffin standing on end before the entrance to the vault. I heard hislittle cry of satisfaction and was aware from his hurried but purposefulmovements that he had reached a goal. With his lens he was eagerlyexamining the edges of the heavy lid. Then he drew from his pocket ashort jemmy, a box-opener, which he thrust into a chink, levering backthe whole front, which seemed to be secured by only a couple of clamps.There was a rending, tearing sound as it gave way, but it had hardlyhinged back and partly revealed the contents before we had an unforeseeninterruption.Someone was walking in the chapel above. It was the firm, rapid stepof one who came with a definite purpose and knew well the ground uponwhich he walked. A light streamed down the stairs, and an instant laterthe man who bore it was framed in the Gothic archway. He was a terriblefigure, huge in stature and fierce in manner. A large stable-lantern whichhe held in front of him shone upward upon a strong, heavily moustachedface and angry eyes, which glared round him into every recess of thevault, finally fixing themselves with a deadly stare upon my companionand myself."Who the devil are you?" he thundered. "And what are you doing uponmy property?" Then, as Holmes returned no answer, he took a couple ofsteps forward and raised a heavy stick which he carried. "Do you hearme?" he cried. "Who are you? What are you doing here?" His cudgelquivered in the air.But instead of shrinking Holmes advanced to meet him."I also have a question to ask you, Sir Robert," he said in his sternesttone. "Who is this? And what is it doing here?"He turned and tore open the coffin-lid behind him. In the glare of thelantern I saw a body swathed in a sheet from head to foot, with dreadful,witch-like features, all nose and chin, projecting at one end, the dim,glazed eyes staring from a discoloured and crumbling face.The baronet had staggered back with a cry and supported himselfagainst a stone sarcophagus."How came you to know of this?" he cried. And then, with some returnof his truculent manner: "What business is it of yours?"[1111] "My name is Sherlock Holmes," said my companion. "Possibly itis familiar to you. In any case, my business is that of every other goodcitizen-to uphold the law. It seems to me that you have much to answerfor."Sir Robert glared for a moment, but Holmes's quiet voice and cool,assured manner had their effect." 'Fore God, Mr. Holmes, it's all right," said he. "Appearances areagainst me, I'll admit, but I could act no otherwise.""I should be happy to think so, but I fear your explanations must bebefore the police."Sir Robert shrugged his broad shoulders."Well, if it must be, it must. Come up to the house and you can judgefor yourself how the matter stands."A quarter of an hour later we found ourselves in what I judge, from thelines of polished barrels behind glass covers, to be the gun-room of theold house. It was comfortably furnished, and here Sir Robert left us for afew moments. When he returned he had two companions with him; theone, the florid young woman whom we had seen in the carriage; the other, a small rat-faced man with a disagreeably furtive manner. These two worean appearance of utter bewilderment, which showed that the baronet hadnot yet had time to explain to them the turn events had taken."There," said Sir Robert with a wave of his hand, "are Mr. and Mrs.Norlett. Mrs. Norlett, under her maiden name of Evans, has for someyears been my sister's confidential maid. I have brought them herebecause I feel that my best course is to explain the true position to you,and they are the two people upon earth who can substantiate what I say.""Is this necessary, Sir Robert? Have you thought what you are doing?"cried the woman."As to me, I entirely disclaim all responsibility," said her husband.Sir Robert gave him a glance of contempt. "I will take allresponsibility," said he. "Now, Mr. Holmes, listen to a plain statement ofthe facts."You have clearly gone pretty deeply into my affairs or I should nothave found you where I did. Therefore, you know already, in allprobability, that I am running a dark horse for the Derby and thateverything depends upon my success. If I win, all is easy. If I lose-well, Idare not think of that!""I understand the position," said Holmes."I am dependent upon my sister, Lady Beatrice, for everything. But it iswell known that her interest in the estate is for her own life only. Formyself, I am deeply in the hands of the Jews. I have always known that ifmy sister were to die my creditors would be on to my estate like a flock ofvultures. Everything would be seized-my stables, my horses-everything.Well, Mr. Holmes, my sister did die just a week ago.""And you told no one!""What could I do? Absolute ruin faced me. If I could stave things offfor three weeks all would be well. Her maid's husband-this man here-isan actor. It came into our heads-it came into my head-that he could forthat short period personate my sister. It was but a case of appearing dailyin the carriage, for no one need enter her room save the maid. It was notdifficult to arrange. My sister died of the dropsy which had long afflictedher.""That will be for a coroner to decide."[1112] "Her doctor would certify that for months her symptoms havethreatened such an end.""Well, what did you do?""The body could not remain there. On the first night Norlett and Icarried it out to the old well-house, which is now never used. We werefollowed, however, by her pet spaniel, which yapped continually at thedoor, so I felt some safer place was needed. I got rid of the spaniel, andwe carried the body to the crypt of the church. There was no indignity orirreverence, Mr. Holmes. I do not feel that I have wronged the dead.""Your conduct seems to me inexcusable, Sir Robert."The baronet shook his head impatiently. "It is easy to preach," said he."Perhaps you would have felt differently if you had been in my position.One cannot see all one's hopes and all one's plans shattered at the lastmoment and make no effort to save them. It seemed to me that it would be no unworthy resting-place if we put her for the time in one of thecoffins of her husband's ancestors lying in what is still consecratedground. We opened such a coffin, removed the contents, and placed her asyou have seen her. As to the old relics which we took out, we could notleave them on the floor of the crypt. Norlett and I removed them, and hedescended at night and burned them in the central furnace. There is mystory, Mr. Holmes, though how you forced my hand so that I have to tellit is more than I can say."Holmes sat for some time lost in thought."There is one flaw in your narrative, Sir Robert," he said at last. "Yourbets on the race, and therefore your hopes for the future, would hold goodeven if your creditors seized your estate.""The horse would be part of the estate. What do they care for my bets?As likely as not they would not run him at all. My chief creditor is,unhappily, my most bitter enemy-a rascally fellow, Sam Brewer, whom Iwas once compelled to horsewhip on Newmarket Heath. Do you supposethat he would try to save me?""Well, Sir Robert," said Holmes, rising, "this matter must, of course, bereferred to the police. It was my duty to bring the facts to light, and there Imust leave it. As to the morality or decency of your conduct, it is not forme to express an opinion. It is nearly midnight, Watson, and I think wemay make our way back to our humble abode."It is generally known now that this singular episode ended upon ahappier note than Sir Robert's actions deserved. Shoscombe Prince didwin the Derby, the sporting owner did net eighty thousand pounds in bets,and the creditors did hold their hand until the race was over, when theywere paid in full, and enough was left to reestablish Sir Robert in a fairposition in life. Both police and coroner took a lenient view of thetransaction, and beyond a mild censure for the delay in registering thelady's decease, the lucky owner got away scatheless from this strangeincident in a career which has now outlived its shadows and promises toend in an honoured old age.