The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

from the missing man. They are all typewritten. In each case, not

  only are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's' tailless, but you will

  observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the fourteen

  other characteristics to which I have alluded are there as well."

  Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. "I

  cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes,"

  he said. "If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know

  when you have done it."

  "Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in

  the door. "I let you know, then, that I have caught him!"

  "What! where?" shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips

  and glancing about him like a rat in a trap.

  "Oh, it won't do--really it won't," said Holmes suavely. "There

  is no possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too

  transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said that

  it was impossible for me to solve so simple a question. That's

  right! Sit down and let us talk it over."

  Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a

  glitter of moisture on his brow. "It--it's not actionable," he

  stammered.

  "I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves,

  Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a

  petty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the

  course of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong."

  The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his

  breast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up

  on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands

  in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed,

  than to us.

  "The man married a woman very much older than himself for her

  money," said he, "and he enjoyed the use of the money of the

  daughter as long as she lived with them. It was a considerable

  sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would have

  made a serious difference. It was worth an effort to preserve it.

  The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionate

  and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it was evident that with

  her fair personal advantages, and her little income, she would

  not be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage would

  mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does her

  stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course of

  keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company of

  people of her own age. But soon he found that that would not

  answer forever. She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and

  finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain

  ball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives an

  idea more creditable to his head than to his heart. With the

  connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself,

  covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face with

  a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voice

  into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account of the

  girl's short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and keeps off

  other lovers by making love himself."

  "It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor. "We never

  thought that she would have been so carried away."

  "Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was very

  decidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her mind that

  her stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery never

  for an instant entered her mind. She was flattered by the

  gentleman's attentions, and the effect was increased by the

  loudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angel began

  to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as

  far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. There

  were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the

  girl's affections from turning towards anyone else. But the

  deception could not be kept up forever. These pretended journeys

  to France were rather cumbrous. The thing to do was clearly to

  bring the business to an end in such a dramatic manner that it

  would leave a permanent impression upon the young lady's mind and

  prevent her from looking upon any other suitor for some time to

  come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament, and

  hence also the allusions to a possibility of something happening

  on the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wished Miss

  Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as to

  his fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, she would not

  listen to another man. As far as the church door he brought her,

  and then, as he could go no farther, he conveniently vanished

  away by the old trick of stepping in at one door of a

  four-wheeler and out at the other. I think that was the chain of

  events, Mr. Windibank!"

  Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes

  had been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold

  sneer upon his pale face.

  "It may be so, or it may not. Mr. Holmes," said he, "but if you

  are so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is

  you who are breaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing

  actionable from the first, but as long as you keep that door

  locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and illegal

  constraint."

  "The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes, unlocking

  and throwing open the door, "yet there never was a man who

  deserved punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a

  friend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!"

  he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon

  the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to my client, but

  here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treat

  myself to--" He took two swift steps to the whip, but before he

  could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs,

  the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr.

  James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road.

  "There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes, laughing, as he

  threw himself down into his chair once more. "That fellow will

  rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad, and

  ends on a gallows. The case has, in some respects, been not

  entirely devoid of interest."

  "I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," I

  remarked.

  "Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr.

  Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curious

  conduct, and it was equally clear that the only man who really

  profited by the incident, as far as we could see, was the

  stepfather. Then the fact that the two men were never together,

  but that the one always appeared when the other was away, was

  suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice,

  which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My

  suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar actio
n in

  typewriting his signature, which, of course, inferred that his

  handwriting was so familiar to her that she would recognize even

  the smallest sample of it. You see all these isolated facts,

  together with many minor ones, all pointed in the same

  direction."

  "And how did you verify them?"

  "Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I

  knew the firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed

  description. I eliminated everything from it which could be the

  result of a disguise--the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I

  sent it to the firm, with a request that they would inform me

  whether it answered to the description of any of their

  travellers. I had already noticed the peculiarities of the

  typewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at his business

  address asking him if he would come here. As I expected, his

  reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but

  characteristic defects. The same post brought me a letter from

  Westhouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the

  description tallied in every respect with that of their employee,

  James Windibank. Voila tout!"

  "And Miss Sutherland?"

  "If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old

  Persian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tiger

  cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.'

  There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much

  knowledge of the world."

  ADVENTURE IV. THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY

  We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the

  maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran

  in this way:

  Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from

  the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy.

  Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect.

  Leave Paddington by the 11:15.

  "What do you say, dear?" said my wife, looking across at me.

  "Will you go?"

  "I really don't know what to say. I have a fairly long list at

  present."

  "Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking

  a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good,

  and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes's cases."

  "I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained

  through one of them," I answered. "But if I am to go, I must pack

  at once, for I have only half an hour."

  My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the

  effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were

  few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a

  cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock

  Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt

  figure made even gaunter and taller by his long gray

  travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap.

  "It is really very good of you to come, Watson," said he. "It

  makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on

  whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless

  or else biassed. If you will keep the two corner seats I shall

  get the tickets."

  We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of

  papers which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged

  and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until

  we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a

  gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack.

  "Have you heard anything of the case?" he asked.

  "Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days."

  "The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just

  been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the

  particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those

  simple cases which are so extremely difficult."

  "That sounds a little paradoxical."

  "But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a

  clew. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more

  difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they

  have established a very serious case against the son of the

  murdered man."

  "It is a murder, then?"

  "Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for

  granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into

  it. I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have

  been able to understand it, in a very few words.

  "Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in

  Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a

  Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned

  some years ago to the old country. One of the farms which he

  held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was

  also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the

  colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to

  settle down they should do so as near each other as possible.

  Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his

  tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect

  equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son,

  a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same

  age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have

  avoided the society of the neighboring English families and to

  have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of

  sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the

  neighborhood. McCarthy kept two servants--a man and a girl.

  Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the

  least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the

  families. Now for the facts.

  "On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at

  Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the

  Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out

  of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been

  out with his serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told

  the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of

  importance to keep at three. From that appointment he never came

  back alive.

  "From Hatherley Farm-house to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a

  mile, and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One

  was an old woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was

  William Crowder, a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both

  these witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The

  game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr.

  McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. James McCarthy, going the

  same way with a gun under his arm. To the best of his belief, the

  father was actually in sight at the time, and the son was

  following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in

  the evening of the tragedy that had occurred.

  "The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder,

  the game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly

  w
ooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the

  edge. A girl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of

  the lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the

  woods picking flowers. She states that while she was there she

  saw, at the border of the wood and close by the lake, Mr.

  McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to be having a

  violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very

  strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his

  hand as if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their

  violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached

  home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near

  Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going to

  fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came

  running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead

  in the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. He was

  much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right

  hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On

  following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the

  grass beside the pool. The head had been beaten in by repeated

  blows of some heavy and blunt weapon. The injuries were such as

  might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son's

  gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the

  body. Under these circumstances the young man was instantly

  arrested, and a verdict of 'wilful murder' having been returned

  at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought before the

  magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the next

  Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out

  before the coroner and the police-court."

  "I could hardly imagine a more damning case," I remarked. "If

  ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so

  here."

  "Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing," answered Holmes

  thoughtfully. "It may seem to point very straight to one thing,

  but if you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it

  pointing in an equally uncompromising manner to something

  entirely different. It must be confessed, however, that the case

  looks exceedingly grave against the young man, and it is very

  possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are several people

  in the neighborhood, however, and among them Miss Turner, the

  daughter of the neighboring landowner, who believe in his

  innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect

  in connection with 'A Study in Scarlet', to work out the case in

  his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the

  case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are

  flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly

  digesting their breakfasts at home."

  "I am afraid," said I, "that the facts are so obvious that you

  will find little credit to be gained out of this case."

  "There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," he

  answered, laughing. "Besides, we may chance to hit upon some

  other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious to

  Mr. Lestrade. You know me too well to think that I am boasting

  when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by

  means which he is quite incapable of employing, or even of

  understanding. To take the first example to hand, I very clearly

  perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand

  side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted

  even so self-evident a thing as that."

  "How on earth--"

  "My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness

  which characterizes you. You shave every morning, and in this

  season you shave by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less

  and less complete as we get farther back on the left side, until

  it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the

  jaw, it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated