The Return of Sherlock Holmes

postponed until fresh papers are prepared, and since this

  cannot be done without explanation there will ensue a

  hideous scandal, which will throw a cloud not only on the

  college, but on the University. Above all things I desire

  to settle the matter quietly and discreetly."

  "I shall be happy to look into it and to give you such

  advice as I can," said Holmes, rising and putting on his

  overcoat. "The case is not entirely devoid of interest.

  Had anyone visited you in your room after the papers came

  to you?"

  "Yes; young Daulat Ras, an Indian student who lives on the

  same stair, came in to ask me some particulars about the

  examination."

  "For which he was entered?"

  "Yes."

  "And the papers were on your table?"

  "To the best of my belief they were rolled up."

  "But might be recognised as proofs?"

  "Possibly."

  "No one else in your room?"

  "No."

  "Did anyone know that these proofs would be there?"

  "No one save the printer."

  "Did this man Bannister know?"

  "No, certainly not. No one knew."

  "Where is Bannister now?"

  "He was very ill, poor fellow. I left him collapsed in the

  chair. I was in such a hurry to come to you."

  "You left your door open?"

  "I locked up the papers first."

  "Then it amounts to this, Mr. Soames, that unless the

  Indian student recognised the roll as being proofs, the man

  who tampered with them came upon them accidentally without

  knowing that they were there."

  "So it seems to me."

  Holmes gave an enigmatic smile.

  "Well," said he, "let us go round. Not one of your cases,

  Watson -- mental, not physical. All right; come if you

  want to. Now, Mr. Soames -- at your disposal!"

  The sitting-room of our client opened by a long, low,

  latticed window on to the ancient lichen-tinted court of

  the old college. A Gothic arched door led to a worn stone

  staircase. On the ground floor was the tutor's room.

  Above were three students, one on each story. It was

  already twilight when we reached the scene of our problem.

  Holmes halted and looked earnestly at the window. Then he

  approached it, and, standing on tiptoe with his neck

  craned, he looked into the room.

  "He must have entered through the door. There is no

  opening except the one pane," said our learned guide.

  "Dear me!" said Holmes, and he smiled in a singular way as

  he glanced at our companion. "Well, if there is nothing to

  be learned here we had best go inside."

  The lecturer unlocked the outer door and ushered us into

  his room. We stood at the entrance while Holmes made an

  examination of the carpet.

  "I am afraid there are no signs here," said he. "One could

  hardly hope for any upon so dry a day. Your servant seems

  to have quite recovered. You left him in a chair, you say;

  which chair?"

  "By the window there."

  "I see. Near this little table. You can come in now.

  I have finished with the carpet. Let us take the little

  table first. Of course, what has happened is very clear.

  The man entered and took the papers, sheet by sheet, from

  the central table. He carried them over to the window

  table, because from there he could see if you came across

  the courtyard, and so could effect an escape."

  "As a matter of fact he could not," said Soames, "for I

  entered by the side door."

  "Ah, that's good! Well, anyhow, that was in his mind.

  Let me see the three strips. No finger impressions -- no!

  Well, he carried over this one first and he copied it.

  How long would it take him to do that, using every possible

  contraction? A quarter of an hour, not less. Then he

  tossed it down and seized the next. He was in the midst of

  that when your return caused him to make a very hurried

  retreat -- _very_ hurried, since he had not time to replace

  the papers which would tell you that he had been there.

  You were not aware of any hurrying feet on the stair as you

  entered the outer door?"

  "No, I can't say I was."

  "Well, he wrote so furiously that he broke his pencil,

  and had, as you observe, to sharpen it again. This is of

  interest, Watson. The pencil was not an ordinary one.

  It was above the usual size, with a soft lead; the outer

  colour was dark blue, the maker's name was printed in

  silver lettering, and the piece remaining is only about an

  inch and a half long. Look for such a pencil, Mr. Soames,

  and you have got your man. When I add that he possesses a

  large and very blunt knife, you have an additional aid."

  Mr. Soames was somewhat overwhelmed by this flood of

  information. "I can follow the other points," said he,

  "but really in this matter of the length ----"

  Holmes held out a small chip with the letters NN and a

  space of clear wood after them.

  "You see?"

  "No, I fear that even now ----"

  "Watson, I have always done you an injustice. There are

  others. What could this NN be? It is at the end of a

  word. You are aware that Johann Faber is the most common

  maker's name. Is it not clear that there is just as much

  of the pencil left as usually follows the Johann?" He held

  the small table sideways to the electric light. "I was

  hoping that if the paper on which he wrote was thin some

  trace of it might come through upon this polished surface.

  No, I see nothing. I don't think there is anything more to

  be learned here. Now for the central table. This small

  pellet is, I presume, the black, doughy mass you spoke of.

  Roughly pyramidal in shape and hollowed out, I perceive.

  As you say, there appear to be grains of sawdust in it.

  Dear me, this is very interesting. And the cut -- a

  positive tear, I see. It began with a thin scratch and

  ended in a jagged hole. I am much indebted to you for

  directing my attention to this case, Mr. Soames. Where

  does that door lead to?"

  "To my bedroom."

  "Have you been in it since your adventure?"

  "No; I came straight away for you."

  "I should like to have a glance round. What a charming,

  old-fashioned room! Perhaps you will kindly wait a minute

  until I have examined the floor. No, I see nothing. What

  about this curtain? You hang your clothes behind it. If

  anyone were forced to conceal himself in this room he must

  do it there, since the bed is too low and the wardrobe too

  shallow. No one there, I suppose?"

  As Holmes drew the curtain I was aware, from some little

  rigidity and alertness of his attitude, that he was

  prepared for an emergency. As a matter of fact the drawn

  curtain disclosed nothing but three or four suits of

  clothes hanging from a line of pegs. Holmes turned away

  and stooped suddenly to the floor.

  "Ha
lloa! What's this?" said he.

  It was a small pyramid of black, putty-like stuff, exactly

  like the one upon the table of the study. Holmes held it

  out on his open palm in the glare of the electric light.

  "Your visitor seems to have left traces in your bedroom as

  well as in your sitting-room, Mr. Soames."

  "What could he have wanted there?"

  "I think it is clear enough. You came back by an

  unexpected way, and so he had no warning until you were at

  the very door. What could he do? He caught up everything

  which would betray him and he rushed into your bedroom to

  conceal himself."

  "Good gracious, Mr. Holmes, do you mean to tell me that all

  the time I was talking to Bannister in this room we had the

  man prisoner if we had only known it?"

  "So I read it."

  "Surely there is another alternative, Mr. Holmes. I don't

  know whether you observed my bedroom window?"

  "Lattice-paned, lead framework, three separate windows,

  one swinging on hinge and large enough to admit a man."

  "Exactly. And it looks out on an angle of the courtyard so

  as to be partly invisible. The man might have effected his

  entrance there, left traces as he passed through the

  bedroom, and, finally, finding the door open have escaped

  that way."

  Holmes shook his head impatiently.

  "Let us be practical," said he. "I understand you to say

  that there are three students who use this stair and are in

  the habit of passing your door?"

  "Yes, there are."

  "And they are all in for this examination?"

  "Yes."

  "Have you any reason to suspect any one of them more than

  the others?"

  Soames hesitated.

  "It is a very delicate question," said he. "One hardly

  likes to throw suspicion where there are no proofs."

  "Let us hear the suspicions. I will look after the

  proofs."

  "I will tell you, then, in a few words the character of the

  three men who inhabit these rooms. The lower of the three

  is Gilchrist, a fine scholar and athlete; plays in the

  Rugby team and the cricket team for the college, and got

  his Blue for the hurdles and the long jump. He is a fine,

  manly fellow. His father was the notorious Sir Jabez

  Gilchrist, who ruined himself on the turf. My scholar has

  been left very poor, but he is hard-working and

  industrious. He will do well.

  "The second floor is inhabited by Daulat Ras, the Indian.

  He is a quiet, inscrutable fellow, as most of those Indians

  are. He is well up in his work, though his Greek is his

  weak subject. He is steady and methodical.

  "The top floor belongs to Miles McLaren. He is a brilliant

  fellow when he chooses to work -- one of the brightest

  intellects of the University, but he is wayward,

  dissipated, and unprincipled. He was nearly expelled over

  a card scandal in his first year. He has been idling all

  this term, and he must look forward with dread to the

  examination."

  "Then it is he whom you suspect?"

  "I dare not go so far as that. But of the three he is

  perhaps the least unlikely."

  "Exactly. Now, Mr. Soames, let us have a look at your

  servant, Bannister."

  He was a little, white-faced, clean-shaven, grizzly-haired

  fellow of fifty. He was still suffering from this sudden

  disturbance of the quiet routine of his life. His plump

  face was twitching with his nervousness, and his fingers

  could not keep still.

  "We are investigating this unhappy business, Bannister,"

  said his master.

  "Yes, sir."

  "I understand," said Holmes, "that you left your key in the

  door?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Was it not very extraordinary that you should do this on

  the very day when there were these papers inside?"

  "It was most unfortunate, sir. But I have occasionally

  done the same thing at other times."

  "When did you enter the room?"

  "It was about half-past four. That is Mr. Soames's tea time."

  "How long did you stay?"

  "When I saw that he was absent I withdrew at once."

  "Did you look at these papers on the table?"

  "No, sir; certainly not."

  "How came you to leave the key in the door?"

  "I had the tea-tray in my hand. I thought I would come

  back for the key. Then I forgot."

  "Has the outer door a spring lock?"

  "No, sir."

  "Then it was open all the time?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "Anyone in the room could get out?"

  "Yes, sir."

  "When Mr. Soames returned and called for you, you were very

  much disturbed?"

  "Yes, sir. Such a thing has never happened during the many

  years that I have been here. I nearly fainted, sir."

  "So I understand. Where were you when you began to feel

  bad?"

  "Where was I, sir? Why, here, near the door."

  "That is singular, because you sat down in that chair over

  yonder near the corner. Why did you pass these other

  chairs?"

  "I don't know, sir. It didn't matter to me where I sat."

  "I really don't think he knew much about it, Mr. Holmes.

  He was looking very bad -- quite ghastly."

  "You stayed here when your master left?"

  "Only for a minute or so. Then I locked the door and went

  to my room."

  "Whom do you suspect?"

  "Oh, I would not venture to say, sir. I don't believe

  there is any gentleman in this University who is capable of

  profiting by such an action. No, sir, I'll not believe it."

  "Thank you; that will do," said Holmes. "Oh, one more word.

  You have not mentioned to any of the three gentlemen whom you

  attend that anything is amiss?"

  "No, sir; not a word."

  "You haven't seen any of them?"

  "No, sir."

  "Very good. Now, Mr. Soames, we will take a walk in the

  quadrangle, if you please."

  Three yellow squares of light shone above us in the

  gathering gloom."

  "Your three birds are all in their nests," said Holmes,

  looking up. "Halloa! What's that? One of them seems

  restless enough."

  It was the Indian, whose dark silhouette appeared suddenly

  upon his blind. He was pacing swiftly up and down his room.

  "I should like to have a peep at each of them," said

  Holmes. "Is it possible?"

  "No difficulty in the world," Soames answered. "This set

  of rooms is quite the oldest in the college, and it is not

  unusual for visitors to go over them. Come along, and I

  will personally conduct you."

  "No names, please!" said Holmes, as we knocked at

  Gilchrist's door. A tall, flaxen-haired, slim young fellow

  opened it, and made us welcome when he understood our

  errand. There were some really curious pieces of mediaeval

  {1} domestic architecture within. Holmes was so charmed

  with one of them that he insisted on drawing it on his

&
nbsp; note-book, broke his pencil, had to borrow one from our

  host, and finally borrowed a knife to sharpen his own. The

  same curious accident happened to him in the rooms of the

  Indian -- a silent, little, hook-nosed fellow, who eyed us

  askance and was obviously glad when Holmes's architectural

  studies had come to an end. I could not see that in either

  case Holmes had come upon the clue for which he was

  searching. Only at the third did our visit prove abortive.

  The outer door would not open to our knock, and nothing

  more substantial than a torrent of bad language came from

  behind it. "I don't care who you are. You can go to

  blazes!" roared the angry voice. "To-morrow's the exam.,

  and I won't be drawn by anyone."

  "A rude fellow," said our guide, flushing with anger as we

  withdrew down the stair. "Of course, he did not realize

  that it was I who was knocking, but none the less his

  conduct was very uncourteous, and, indeed, under the

  circumstances rather suspicious."

  Holmes's response was a curious one.

  "Can you tell me his exact height?" he asked.

  "Really, Mr. Holmes, I cannot undertake to say.

  He is taller than the Indian, not so tall as Gilchrist.

  I suppose five foot six would be about it."

  "That is very important," said Holmes. "And now, Mr. Soames,

  I wish you good-night."

  Our guide cried aloud in his astonishment and dismay.

  "Good gracious, Mr. Holmes, you are surely not going to

  leave me in this abrupt fashion! You don't seem to realize

  the position. To-morrow is the examination. I must take

  some definite action to-night. I cannot allow the

  examination to be held if one of the papers has been

  tampered with. The situation must be faced."

  "You must leave it as it is. I shall drop round early

  to-morrow morning and chat the matter over. It is possible

  that I may be in a position then to indicate some course of

  action. Meanwhile you change nothing -- nothing at all."

  "Very good, Mr. Holmes."

  "You can be perfectly easy in your mind. We shall

  certainly find some way out of your difficulties. I will

  take the black clay with me, also the pencil cuttings.

  Good-bye."

  When we were out in the darkness of the quadrangle we again

  looked up at the windows. The Indian still paced his room.

  The others were invisible.

  "Well, Watson, what do you think of it?" Holmes asked, as

  we came out into the main street. "Quite a little parlour

  game -- sort of three-card trick, is it not? There are

  your three men. It must be one of them. You take your

  choice. Which is yours?"

  "The foul-mouthed fellow at the top. He is the one with

  the worst record. And yet that Indian was a sly fellow

  also. Why should he be pacing his room all the time?"

  "There is nothing in that. Many men do it when they are

  trying to learn anything by heart."

  "He looked at us in a queer way."

  "So would you if a flock of strangers came in on you when

  you were preparing for an examination next day, and every

  moment was of value. No, I see nothing in that. Pencils,

  too, and knives -- all was satisfactory. But that fellow

  _does_ puzzle me."

  "Who?"

  "Why, Bannister, the servant. What's his game in the

  matter?"

  "He impressed me as being a perfectly honest man."

  "So he did me. That's the puzzling part. Why should a

  perfectly honest man -- well, well, here's a large

  stationer's. We shall begin our researches here."

  There were only four stationers of any consequence in the

  town, and at each Holmes produced his pencil chips and bid

  high for a duplicate. All were agreed that one could be

  ordered, but that it was not a usual size of pencil and

  that it was seldom kept in stock. My friend did not appear

  to be depressed by his failure, but shrugged his shoulders