had been seated for some hours in silence with his long, thin back curved
over a chemical vessel in which he was brewing a particularly malodorous
product. His head was sunk upon his breast, and he looked from my point of
view like a strange, lank bird, with dull gray plumage and a black top-knot.
"So, Watson," said he, suddenly, "you do not propose to invest in South African securities?"
I gave a start of astonishment. Accustomed as I was to Holmes's curious faculties, this sudden intrusion
into my most intimate thoughts was utterly inexplicable.
"How on earth do you know that?" I asked.
He wheeled round upon his stool, with a steaming test-tube in his hand, and a gleam of amusement in his deep-set eyes.
"Now, Watson, confess yourself utterly taken aback," said he.
"I ought to make you sign a paper to that effect."
"Because in five minutes you will say that it is all so absurdly simple."
"I am sure that I shall say nothing of the kind."
"You see, my dear Watson" -- he propped his test-tube in the rack, and
began to lecture with the air of a professor addressing his class --"it is
not really difficult to construct a series of inferences, each dependent
upon its predecessor and each simple in itself. If, after doing so, one
simply knocks out all the central inferences and presents one's audience
with the starting-point and the conclusion, one may produce a startling,
though possibly a meretricious, effect. Now, it was not really difficult,
by an inspection of the groove between your left forefinger and thumb, to
feel sure that you did NOT propose to invest your small capital in the gold fields."
"I see no connection."
"Very likely not; but I can quickly show you a close connection. Here are the missing
links of the very simple chain:
1. You had chalk between your left finger and thumb when you returned from
the club last night. 2. You put chalk there when you play billiards, to
steady the cue. 3. You never play billiards except with Thurston. 4. You
told me, four weeks ago, that Thurston had an option on some South African
property which would expire in a month, and which he desired you to share
with him. 5. Your check book is locked in my drawer, and you have not
asked for the key. 6. You do not propose to invest your money in this manner."
"How absurdly simple!" I cried.
"Quite so!" said he, a little nettled. "Every problem becomes very childish when once
it is explained to you. Here is an unexplained one. See what you can make
of that, friend Watson." He tossed a sheet of paper upon the table, and
turned once more to his chemical analysis.
I looked with amazement at the absurd hieroglyphics upon the paper.
"Why, Holmes, it is a child's drawing," I cried.
"Oh, that's your idea!"
"What else should it be?"
"That is what Mr. Hilton Cubitt, of Riding Thorpe Manor, Norfolk, is very anxious to know.
This little conundrum came by the first post, and he was to follow by the next train. There's a ring
at the bell, Watson. I should not be very much surprised if this were he."
A heavy step was heard upon the stairs, and an instant later there entered a tall, ruddy, clean-shaven gentleman,
whose clear eyes and florid cheeks told of a life led far from the fogs of
Baker Street. He seemed to bring a whiff of his strong, fresh, bracing,
east-coast air with him as he entered. Having shaken hands with each of
us, he was about to sit down, when his eye rested upon the paper with the
curious markings, which I had just examined and left upon the table.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, what do you make of these?" he cried. "They told me that you were fond of
queer mysteries, and I don't think you can find a queerer one than that. I sent the paper on
ahead, so that you might have time to study it before I came."
"It is certainly rather a curious production," said Holmes. "At first sight it would appear
to be some childish prank. It consists of a number of absurd little figures dancing across the paper
upon which they are drawn. Why should you attribute any importance to so grotesque an object?"
"I never should, Mr. Holmes. But my wife does. It is frightening her to
death. She says nothing, but I can see terror in her eyes. That's why I want to sift the matter to the bottom."
Holmes held up the paper so that the sunlight shone full upon it. It was a
page torn from a notebook. The markings were done in pencil, and ran in this way:
Holmes examined it for some time, and then, folding it carefully up, he placed it in his pocketbook.
"This promises to be a most interesting and unusual case," said he. "You gave me a few particulars in
your letter, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, but I should be very much obliged if you would kindly go over it all again
for the benefit of my friend, Dr. Watson."
"I'm not much of a story-teller," said our visitor, nervously clasping and unclasping his great, strong
hands. "You'll just ask me anything that I don't make clear. I'll begin at
the time of my marriage last year, but I want to say first of all that,
though I'm not a rich man, my people have been at Riding Thorpe for a
matter of five centuries, and there is no better known family in the
County of Norfolk. Last year I came up to London for the Jubilee, and I
stopped at a boarding-house in Russell Square, because Parker, the vicar
of our parish, was staying in it. There was an American young lady there
-- Patrick was the name -- Elsie Patrick. In some way we became friends,
until before my month was up I was as much in love as man could be. We
were quietly married at a registry office, and we returned to Norfolk a
wedded couple. You'll think it very mad, Mr. Holmes, that a man of a good
old family should marry a wife in this fashion, knowing nothing of her
past or of her people, but if you saw her and knew her, it would help you to understand.
"She was very straight about it, was Elsie. I can't say that she did not give me every chance of
getting out of it if I wished to do so. 'I have had some very disagreeable
associations in my life,' said she, 'I wish to forget all about them. I
would rather never allude to the past, for it is very painful to me. If
you take me, Hilton, you will take a woman who has nothing that she need
be personally ashamed of, but you will have to be content with my word for
it, and to allow me to be silent as to all that passed up to the time when
I became yours. If these conditions are too hard, then go back to Norfolk,
and leave me to the lonely life in which you found me.' It was only the
day before our wedding that she said those very words to me. I told her
that I was content to take her on her own terms, and I have been as good as my word.
"Well we have been married now for a year, and very happy we have been.
But about a month ago, at the end of June, I saw for the first time signs
of trouble. One day my wife received a letter from America. I saw the
American stamp. She turned deadly white, read the letter, and threw it
into the fire. She made no allusion to it afterwards, and I made none, for
a promise is a promise, but she has never known an easy hour from that
moment. There is always a look of fear upon her face -- a look as if she
were waiting and expecting. She would do better to trust me. She would
find that I was her best friend. But until she speaks, I can say nothing.
Mind you, she is a truthful woman, Mr. Holmes, and whatever trouble there
may have been in her past life it has been no fault of hers. I am only a
simple Norfolk squire, but there is not a man in England who ranks his
family honour more highly than I do. She knows it well, and she knew it
well before she married me. She would never bring any stain upon it -- of that I am sure.
"Well, now I come to the queer part of my story. About a week ago -- it was the Tuesday of last
week -- I found on one of the window-sills a number of absurd little
dancing figures like these upon the paper. They were scrawled with chalk.
I thought that it was the stable-boy who had drawn them, but the lad swore
he knew nothing about it. Anyhow, they had come there during the night. I
had them washed out, and I only mentioned the matter to my wife
afterwards. To my surprise, she took it very seriously, and begged me if
any more came to let her see them. None did come for a week, and then
yesterday morning I found this paper lying on the sundial in the garden. I
showed it to Elsie, and down she dropped in a dead faint. Since then she
has looked like a woman in a dream, half dazed, and with terror always
lurking in her eyes. It was then that I wrote and sent the paper to you,
Mr. Holmes. It was not a thing that I could take to the police, for they
would have laughed at me, but you will tell me what to do. I am not a rich
man, but if there is any danger threatening my little woman, I would spend my last copper to shield her."
He was a fine creature, this man of the old English soil -- simple,
straight, and gentle, with his great, earnest blue eyes and broad, comely
face. His love for his wife and his trust in her shone in his features.
Holmes had listened to his story with the utmost attention, and now he sat
for some time in silent thought.
"Don't you think, Mr. Cubitt," said he, at last, "that your best plan would be to make a direct appeal
to your wife, and to ask her to share her secret with you?"
Hilton Cubitt shook his massive head.
"A promise is a promise, Mr. Holmes. If Elsie wished to tell me she would. If not, it is not for me to
force her confidence. But I am justified in taking my own line -- and I will."
"Then I will help you with all my heart. In the first place, have you heard of
any strangers being seen in your neighbourhood?"
"I presume that it is a very quiet place. Any fresh face would cause comment?"
"In the immediate neighbourhood, yes. But we have several small watering-places not very far away.
And the farmers take in lodgers."
"These hieroglyphics have evidently a meaning. If it is a purely arbitrary one, it may be
impossible for us to solve it. If, on the other hand, it is systematic, I have no doubt that we
shall get to the bottom of it. But this particular sample is so short that
I can do nothing, and the facts which you have brought me are so
indefinite that we have no basis for an investigation. I would suggest
that you return to Norfolk, that you keep a keen lookout, and that you
take an exact copy of any fresh dancing men which may appear. It is a
thousand pities that we have not a reproduction of those which were done
in chalk upon the window-sill. Make a discreet inquiry also as to any
strangers in the neighbourhood. When you have collected some fresh
evidence, come to me again. That is the best advice which I can give you,
Mr. Hilton Cubitt. If there are any pressing fresh developments, I shall
be always ready to run down and see you in your Norfolk home."
The interview left Sherlock Holmes very thoughtful, and several times in the next few days
I saw him take his slip of paper from his notebook and look long and earnestly at the curious
figures inscribed upon it. He made no allusion to the affair, however,
until one afternoon a fortnight or so later. I was going out when he called me back.
"You had better stay here, Watson."
"Because I had a wire from Hilton Cubitt this morning. You remember Hilton Cubitt, of the
dancing men? He was to reach Liverpool Street at one-twenty. He may be here at any moment. I gather
from his wire that there have been some new incidents of importance."
We had not long to wait, for our Norfolk
squire came straight from the station as fast as a hansom could bring him.
He was looking worried and depressed, with tired eyes and a lined forehead.
"It's getting on my nerves, this business, Mr. Holmes," said he, as he sank, like
a wearied man, into an armchair. "It's bad enough to feel that you are surrounded by unseen,
unknown folk, who have some kind of design upon you, but when, in addition to that, you know
that it is just killing your wife by inches, then it becomes as much as flesh and blood can endure.
She's wearing away under it -- just wearing away before my eyes."
"Has she said anything yet?"
"No, Mr. Holmes, she has not. And yet there have been times when the poor girl has wanted to
speak, and yet could not quite bring herself to take the plunge. I have
tried to help her, but I daresay I did it clumsily, and scared her from
it. She has spoken about my old family, and our reputation in the county,
and our pride in our unsullied honour, and I always felt it was leading to
the point, but somehow it turned off before we got there."
"But you have found out something for yourself?"
"A good deal, Mr. Holmes. I have several fresh dancing-men pictures for you to examine, and,
what is more important, I have seen the fellow."
"What, the man who draws them?"
"Yes, I saw him at his work. But I will tell you everything in order. When I got back after
my visit to you, the very first thing I saw next morning was a fresh crop
of dancing men. They had been drawn in chalk upon the black wooden door of
the tool-house, which stands beside the lawn in full view of the front
windows. I took an exact copy, and here it is." He unfolded a paper and
laid it upon the table. Here is a copy of the hieroglyphics:
"Excellent!" said Holmes. "Excellent! Pray continue."
"When I had taken the copy, I rubbed out the marks, but, two mornings later, a
fresh inscription had appeared. I have a copy of it here":
Holmes rubbed his hands and chuckled with delight.
"Our material is rapidly accumulating," said he.
"Three days later a message was left scrawled upon paper, and placed under
a pebble upon the sundial. Here it is. The characters are, as you see,
exactly the same as the last one. After that I determined to lie in wait,
so I got out my revolver and I sat up in my study, which overlooks the
lawn and garden. About two in the morning I was seated by the window, all
being dark save for the moonlight outside, when I heard steps behind me,
and there was my wife in her dressing-gown. She implored me to come to
bed. I told her frankly that I wished to see who it was who played such
absurd tricks upon us. She answered that it was some senseless practical
joke, and that I should not take any notice of it.
"'If it really annoys you, Hilton, we might go and travel, you and I, and so avoid this nuisance.'
"'What, be driven out of our own house by a practical joker?' said I. 'Why, we should have the
whole county laughing at us.'
"'Well, come to bed,' said she, 'and we can discuss it in the morning.'
"Suddenly, as she spoke, I saw her white face grow whiter yet in the moonlight, and
her hand tightened upon my shoulder. Something was moving in the shadow of
the tool-house. I saw a dark, creeping figure which crawled round the
corner and squatted in front of the door. Seizing my pistol, I was rushing
out, when my wife threw her arms round me and held me with convulsive
strength. I tried to throw her off, but she clung to me most desperately.
At last I got clear, but by the time I had opened the door and reached the
house the creature was gone. He had left a trace of his presence, however,
for there on the door was the very same arrangement of dancing men which
had already twice appeared, and which I have copied on that paper. There
was no other sign of the fellow anywhere, though I ran all over the
grounds. And yet the amazing thing is that he must have been there all the
time, for when I examined the door again in the morning, he had scrawled
some more of his pictures under the line which I had already seen."
"Have you that fresh drawing?"
"Yes, it is very short, but I made a copy of it, and here it is."
Again he produced a paper. The new dance was in this form:
"Tell me," said Holmes -- and I could see by his eyes that he was much excited --"was this a mere
addition to the first or did it appear to be entirely separate?"
"It was on a different panel of the door."
"Excellent! This is far the most important of all for our purpose. It fills me with hopes.
Now, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, please continue your most interesting statement."
"I have nothing more to say, Mr. Holmes, except that I was angry with my wife that night for
having held me back when I might have caught the skulking rascal. She said that she feared
that I might come to harm. For an instant it had crossed my mind that
perhaps what she really feared was that HE might come to harm, for I could
not doubt that she knew who this man was, and what he meant by these
strange signals. But there is a tone in my wife's voice, Mr. Holmes, and a
look in her eyes which forbid doubt, and I am sure that it was indeed my
own safety that was in her mind. There's the whole case, and now I want
your advice as to what I ought to do. My own inclination is to put half a
dozen of my farm lads in the shrubbery, and when this fellow comes again
to give him such a hiding that he will leave us in peace for the future."
"I fear it is too deep a case for such simple remedies," said Holmes. "How long can you stay in London?"
"I must go back to-day. I would not leave my wife alone all night for anything. She is very nervous,
and begged me to come back."
"I daresay you are right. But if you could have stopped, I might possibly have been able to return with you
in a day or two. Meanwhile you will leave me these papers, and I think that it is very likely that I shall be
able to pay you a visit shortly and to throw some light upon your case."
Sherlock Holmes preserved his calm professional manner until our visitor had left
us, although it was easy for me, who knew him so well, to see that he was
profoundly excited. The moment that Hilton Cubitt's broad back had
disappeared through the door my comrade rushed to the table, laid out all
the slips of paper containing dancing men in front of him, and threw
himself into an intricate and elaborate calculation. For two hours I
watched him as he covered sheet after sheet of paper with figures and
letters, so completely absorbed in his task that he had evidently
forgotten my presence. Sometimes he was making progress and whistled and
sang at his work; sometimes he was puzzled, and would sit for long spells
with a furrowed brow and a vacant eye. Finally he sprang from his chair
with a cry of satisfaction, and walked up and down the room rubbing his
hands together. Then he wrote a long telegram upon a cable form. "If my
answer to this is as I hope, you will have a very pretty case to add to
your collection, Watson," said he. "I expect that we shall be able to go
down to Norfolk tomorrow, and to take our friend some very definite news
as to the secret of his annoyance."
I confess that I was filled with curiosity, but I was aware that Holmes
liked to make his disclosures at his own time and in his own way, so I
waited until it should suit him to take me into his confidence.
But there was a delay in that answering telegram, and two days of impatience followed,
during which Holmes pricked up his ears at every ring of the bell. On the evening of the second
there came a letter from Hilton Cubitt. All was quiet with him, save that a long inscription had
appeared that morning upon the pedestal of the sundial. He inclosed a copy of it, which is here reproduced:
Holmes bent over this grotesque frieze for some minutes, and then suddenly sprang to his feet
with an exclamation of surprise and dismay. His face was haggard with anxiety.
"We have let this affair go far enough," said he. "Is there a train to North Walsham to-night?"
I turned up the time-table. The last had just gone.
"Then we shall breakfast early and take the very first in the morning," said Holmes. "Our presence
is most urgently needed. Ah! here is our expected cablegram. One moment, Mrs. Hudson, there may be
an answer. No, that is quite as I expected. This message makes it even more essential that we should
not lose an hour in letting Hilton Cubitt know how matters stand, for it is a singular and a dangerous
web in which our simple Norfolk squire is entangled."
So, indeed, it proved, and as I come to the dark conclusion of a story which had seemed to me to
be only childish and bizarre, I experience once again the dismay and horror with which I was filled.
Would that I had some brighter ending to communicate to my readers, but these are the chronicles of
fact, and I must follow to their dark crisis the strange chain of events which for some days made Riding
Thorpe Manor a household word through the length and breadth of England.
We had hardly alighted at North Walsham, and mentioned the name of our destination, when the
station-master hurried towards us. "I suppose that you are the detectives from London?" said he.
A look of annoyance passed over Holmes's face.
"What makes you think such a thing?"
"Because Inspector Martin from Norwich has just passed through. But maybe
you are the surgeons. She's not dead -- or wasn't by last accounts. You
may be in time to save her yet -- though it be for the gallows."
Holmes's brow was dark with anxiety.
"We are going to Riding Thorpe Manor," said he, "but we have heard nothing of what has passed there."
"It's a terrible business," said the stationmaster. "They are shot, both Mr. Hilton Cubitt and his wife.
She shot him and then herself -- so the servants say. He's dead and her life is despaired of. Dear, dear, one
of the oldest families in the county of Norfolk, and one of the most honoured."
Without a word Holmes hurried to a carriage, and during the long seven
miles' drive he never opened his mouth. Seldom have I seen him so utterly
despondent. He had been uneasy during all our journey from town, and I had
observed that he had turned over the morning papers with anxious
attention, but now this sudden realization of his worst fears left him in
a blank melancholy. He leaned back in his seat, lost in gloomy
speculation. Yet there was much around to interest us, for we were passing
through as singular a countryside as any in England, where a few scattered
cottages represented the population of to-day, while on every hand
enormous square-towered churches bristled up from the flat green landscape
and told of the glory and prosperity of old East Anglia. At last the
violet rim of the German Ocean appeared over the green edge of the Norfolk
coast, and the driver pointed with his whip to two old brick and timber
gables which projected from a grove of trees. "That's Riding Thorpe Manor," said he.
As we drove up to the porticoed front door, I observed in front of it, beside
the tennis lawn, the black tool-house and the pedestalled sundial with which we had
such strange associations. A dapper little man, with a quick, alert manner and
a waxed moustache, had just descended from a high dog-cart. He introduced
himself as Inspector Martin, of the Norfolk Constabulary, and he was
considerably astonished when he heard the name of my companion.
"Why, Mr. Holmes, the crime was only committed at three this morning. How could you hear of it
in London and get to the spot as soon as I?"
"I anticipated it. I came in the hope of preventing it."
"Then you must have important evidence, of which we are ignorant, for they were said to be a most united couple."
"I have only the evidence of the dancing men," said Holmes. "I will explain the matter to you later.
Meanwhile, since it is too late to prevent this tragedy, I am very anxious that I should use the knowledge
which I possess in order to insure that justice be done. Will you associate me in your investigation,
or will you prefer that I should act independently?"
"I should be proud to feel that we were acting together, Mr. Holmes," said the inspector, earnestly.
"In that case I should be glad to hear the evidence and to examine the premises without an
instant of unnecessary delay."
Inspector Martin had the good sense to allow my friend to do things in his own
fashion, and contented himself with carefully noting the results. The
local surgeon, an old, white-haired man, had just come down from Mrs.
Hilton Cubitt's room, and he reported that her injuries were serious, but
not necessarily fatal. The bullet had passed through the front of her
brain, and it would probably be some time before she could regain
consciousness. On the question of whether she had been shot or had shot
herself, he would not venture to express any decided opinion. Certainly
the bullet had been discharged at very close quarters. There was only the
one pistol found in the room, two barrels of which had been emptied. Mr.
Hilton Cubitt had been shot through the heart. It was equally conceivable
that he had shot her and then himself, or that she had been the criminal,
for the revolver lay upon the floor midway between them.
"Has he been moved?" asked Holmes.
"We have moved nothing except the lady. We could not leave her lying wounded upon the floor."
"How long have you been here, Doctor?"
"Since four o'clock."
"Yes, the constable here."
"And you have touched nothing?"
"You have acted with great discretion. Who sent for you?"
"The housemaid, Saunders."
"Was it she who gave the alarm?"
"She and Mrs. King, the cook."
"Where are they now?"
"In the kitchen, I believe."
"Then I think we had better hear their story at once."
The old hall, oak-panelled and high-windowed, had been turned into a court
of investigation. Holmes sat in a great, old-fashioned chair, his
inexorable eyes gleaming out of his haggard face. I could read in them a
set purpose to devote his life to this quest until the client whom he had
failed to save should at last be avenged. The trim Inspector Martin, the
old, gray-headed country doctor, myself, and a stolid village policeman
made up the rest of that strange company.
The two women told their story clearly enough. They had been aroused from
their sleep by the sound of an explosion, which had been followed a minute
later by a second one. They slept in adjoining rooms, and Mrs. King had
rushed in to Saunders. Together they had descended the stairs. The door of
the study was open, and a candle was burning upon the table. Their master
lay upon his face in the centre of the room. He was quite dead. Near the
window his wife was crouching, her head leaning against the wall. She was
horribly wounded, and the side of her face was red with blood. She
breathed heavily, but was incapable of saying anything. The passage, as
well as the room, was full of smoke and the smell of powder. The window
was certainly shut and fastened upon the inside. Both women were positive
upon the point. They had at once sent for the doctor and for the
constable. Then, with the aid of the groom and the stable-boy, they had
conveyed their injured mistress to her room. Both she and her husband had
occupied the bed. She was clad in her dress-he in his dressing-gown, over
his night-clothes. Nothing had been moved in the study. So far as they
knew, there had never been any quarrel between husband and wife. They had
always looked upon them as a very united couple.
These were the main points of the servants'
evidence. In answer to Inspector Martin, they were clear that every door
was fastened upon the inside, and that no one could have escaped from the
house. In answer to Holmes, they both remembered that they were conscious
of the smell of powder from the moment that they ran out of their rooms
upon the top floor. "I commend that fact very carefully to your
attention," said Holmes to his professional colleague. "And now I think
that we are in a position to undertake a thorough examination of the room."
The study proved to be a small chamber, lined on three sides with books,
and with a writing-table facing an ordinary window, which looked out upon
the garden. Our first attention was given to the body of the unfortunate
squire, whose huge frame lay stretched across the room. His disordered
dress showed that he had been hastily aroused from sleep. The bullet had
been fired at him from the front, and had remained in his body, after
penetrating the heart. His death had certainly been instantaneous and
painless. There was no powder-marking either upon his dressing-gown or on
his hands. According to the country surgeon, the lady had stains upon her
face, but none upon her hand.
"The absence of the latter means nothing, though its presence may mean everything," said
Holmes. "Unless the powder from a badly fitting cartridge happens to spurt
backward, one may fire many shots without leaving a sign. I would suggest
that Mr. Cubitt's body may now be removed. I suppose, Doctor, you have not
recovered the bullet which wounded the lady?"
"A serious operation will be necessary before that can be done. But there
are still four cartridges in the revolver. Two have been fired and two
wounds inflicted, so that each bullet can be accounted for."
"So it would seem," said Holmes. "Perhaps you can account also for the bullet which has
so obviously struck the edge of the window?"
He had turned suddenly, and his long, thin finger was pointing to a hole which had been drilled right
through the lower window-sash, about an inch above the bottom.
"By George!" cried the inspector. "How ever did you see that?"
"Because I looked for it."
"Wonderful!" said the country doctor. "You are certainly right, sir. Then a third shot has been fired,
and therefore a third person must have been present. But who could that have been, and how could he have got away?"
"That is the problem which we are now about to solve," said Sherlock Holmes. "You remember, Inspector Martin,
when the servants said that on leaving their room they were at once conscious of a smell of powder, I remarked that
the point was an extremely important one?"
"Yes, sir; but I confess I did not quite follow you."
"It suggested that at the time of the firing, the window as well as the door of the room had been open.
Otherwise the fumes of powder could not have been blown so rapidly through the house. A draught in the room
was necessary for that. Both door and window were only open for a very short time, however."
"How do you prove that?"
"Because the candle was not guttered."
"Capital!" cried the inspector. "Capital!
"Feeling sure that the window had been open at the time of the tragedy, I conceived that there
might have been a third person in the affair, who stood outside this opening and fired through it.
Any shot directed at this person might hit the sash. I looked, and there, sure enough, was the bullet mark!"
"But how came the window to be shut and fastened?"
"The woman's first instinct would be to shut and fasten the window. But, halloa! What is this?"
It was a lady's hand-bag which stood upon the study table -- a trim little handbag of
crocodile-skin and silver. Holmes opened it and turned the contents out. There were twenty
fifty-pound notes of the Bank of England, held together by an india-rubber band -- nothing else.
"This must be preserved, for it will figure in the trial" said Holmes, as he handed the bag
with its contents to the inspector. "It is now necessary that we should try to throw some light
upon this third bullet, which has clearly, from the splintering of the wood, been fired from inside
the room. I should like to see Mrs. King, the cook, again. You said, Mrs. King, that you were awakened by a LOUD
explosion. When you said that, did you mean that it seemed to you to be louder than the second one?"
"Well, sir, it wakened me from my sleep, so it is hard to judge. But it did seem very loud."
"You don't think that it might have been two shots fired almost at the same instant?"
"I am sure I couldn't say, sir."
"I believe that it was undoubtedly so. I rather think, Inspector Martin, that we have now exhausted
all that this room can teach us. If you will kindly step round with me, we shall see what fresh evidence
the garden has to offer."
A flower-bed extended up to the study window, and we all broke into an
exclamation as we approached it. The flowers were trampled down, and the
soft soil was imprinted all over with footmarks. Large, masculine feet
they were, with peculiarly long, sharp toes. Holmes hunted about among the
grass and leaves like a retriever after a wounded bird. Then, with a cry
of satisfaction, he bent forward and picked up a little brazen cylinder.
"I thought so," said he, "the revolver had an ejector, and here is the
third cartridge. I really think, Inspector Martin, that our case is almost complete."
The country inspector's face had shown his intense amazement at the rapid and masterful progress of
Holmes's investigation. At first he had shown some disposition to assert his own position, but now he was
overcome with admiration, and ready to follow without question wherever Holmes led.
"Whom do you suspect?" he asked.
"I'll go into that later. There are several points in this problem which I have not
been able to explain to you yet. Now that I have got so far, I had best
proceed on my own lines, and then clear the whole matter up once and for all."
"Just as you wish, Mr. Holmes, so long as we get our man."
"I have no desire to make mysteries, but it is impossible at the moment of action to enter
into long and complex explanations. I have the threads of this affair all in my hand. Even if this
lady should never recover consciousness, we can still reconstruct the events of last night and insure
that justice be done. First of all, I wish to know whether there is any inn in this neighbourhood known
The servants were cross-questioned, but none of them had heard of such a
place. The stable-boy threw a light upon the matter by remembering that a
farmer of that name lived some miles off, in the direction of East Ruston.
"Is it a lonely farm?"
"Very lonely, sir."
"Perhaps they have not heard yet of all that happened here during the night?"
"Maybe not, sir."
Holmes thought for a little, and then a curious smile played over his face.
"Saddle a horse, my lad," said he. "I shall wish you to take a note to Elrige's Farm."
He took from his pocket the various slips of the dancing men. With these in front of him,
he worked for some time at the study-table. Finally he handed a note to the boy, with directions
to put it into the hands of the person to whom it was addressed, and especially to answer no
questions of any sort which might be put to him. I saw the outside of the note, addressed in
straggling, irregular characters, very unlike Holmes's usual precise hand. It was consigned to
Mr. Abe Slaney, Elriges Farm, East Ruston, Norfolk.
"I think, Inspector," Holmes remarked, "that you would do well to
telegraph for an escort, as, if my calculations prove to be correct, you
may have a particularly dangerous prisoner to convey to the county jail.
The boy who takes this note could no doubt forward your telegram. If there
is an afternoon train to town, Watson, I think we should do well to take
it, as I have a chemical analysis of some interest to finish, and this
investigation draws rapidly to a close."
When the youth had been dispatched with the note, Sherlock Holmes gave his
instructions to the servants. If any visitor were to call asking for Mrs.
Hilton Cubitt, no information should be given as to her condition, but he
was to be shown at once into the drawing-room. He impressed these points
upon them with the utmost earnestness. Finally he led the way into the
drawing-room, with the remark that the business was now out of our hands,
and that we must while away the time as best we might until we could see
what was in store for us. The doctor had departed to his patients, and
only the inspector and myself remained.
"I think that I can help you to pass an hour in an interesting and profitable
manner," said Holmes, drawing his chair up to the table, and spreading out
in front of him the various papers upon which were recorded the antics of
the dancing men. "As to you, friend Watson, I owe you every atonement for
having allowed your natural curiosity to remain so long unsatisfied. To
you, Inspector, the whole incident may appeal as a remarkable professional
study. I must tell you, first of all, the interesting circumstances
connected with the previous consultations which Mr. Hilton Cubitt has had
with me in Baker Street." He then shortly recapitulated the facts which
have already been recorded. "I have here in front of me these singular
productions, at which one might smile, had they not proved themselves to
be the forerunners of so terrible a tragedy. I am fairly familiar with all
forms of secret writings, and am myself the author of a trifling monograph
upon the subject, in which I analyze one hundred and sixty separate
ciphers, but I confess that this is entirely new to me. The object of
those who invented the system has apparently been to conceal that these
characters convey a message, and to give the idea that they are the mere
random sketches of children.
"Having once recognized, however, that the symbols stood for letters, and
having applied the rules which guide us in all forms of secret writings,
the solution was easy enough. The first message submitted to me was so
short that it was impossible for me to do more than to say, with some
confidence, that the symbol XXX stood for E. As you are aware, E is the
most common letter in the English alphabet, and it predominates to so
marked an extent that even in a short sentence one would expect to find it
most often. Out of fifteen symbols in the first message, four were the
same, so it was reasonable to set this down as E. It is true that in some
cases the figure was bearing a flag, and in some cases not, but it was
probable, from the way in which the flags were distributed, that they were
used to break the sentence up into words. I accepted this as a hypothesis,
and noted that E was represented by:
"But now came the real difficulty of the inquiry. The order of the English letters after E is
by no means well marked, and any preponderance which may be shown in an average
of a printed sheet may be reversed in a single short sentence. Speaking
roughly, T, A, O, I, N, S, H, R, D, and L are the numerical order in which
letters occur, but T, A, O, and I are very nearly abreast of each other,
and it would be an endless task to try each combination until a meaning
was arrived at. I therefore waited for fresh material. In my second
interview with Mr. Hilton Cubitt he was able to give me two other short
sentences and one message, which appeared -- since there was no flag -- to
be a single word. Here are the symbols:
Now, in the single word I have already got the two E's coming second
and fourth in a word of five letters. It might be 'sever,' or 'lever,' or 'never.'
There can be no question that the latter as a reply to an appeal is far the most
probable, and the circumstances pointed to its being a reply written by the lady.
Accepting it as correct, we are now able to say that the symbols:
stand respectively for N, V, and R.
"Even now I was in considerable difficulty, but a happy thought put me in
possession of several other letters. It occurred to me that if these
appeals came, as I expected, from someone who had been intimate with the
lady in her early life, a combination which contained two E's with three
letters between might very well stand for the name 'ELSIE.' On examination
I found that such a combination formed the termination of the message
which was three times repeated. It was certainly some appeal to 'Elsie.'
In this way I had got my L, S, and I. But what appeal could it be? There
were only four letters in the word which preceded 'Elsie,' and it ended in
E. Surely the word must be 'COME.' I tried all other four letters ending
in E, but could find none to fit the case. So now I was in possession of
C, O, and M, and I was in a position to attack the first message once
more, dividing it into words and putting dots for each symbol which was
still unknown. So treated, it worked out in this fashion:
.M .ERE ..E SL.NE.
"Now the first letter CAN only be A, which is a most useful discovery, since it occurs no fewer
than three times in this short sentence, and the H is also apparent in the second word. Now it becomes:
AM HERE A.E SLANE.
Or, filling in the obvious vacancies in the name:
AM HERE ABE SLANEY.
I had so many letters now that I could proceed with considerable confidence to the second message,
which worked out in this fashion:
A. ELRI. ES.
Here I could only make sense by putting T and G for the missing letters, and supposing that the name was
that of some house or inn at which the writer was staying."
Inspector Martin and I had listened with the utmost interest to the full and clear account of how my friend
had produced results which had led to so complete a command over our difficulties.
"What did you do then, sir?" asked the inspector.
"I had every reason to suppose that this Abe Slaney was an American, since Abe is an American
contraction, and since a letter from America had been the starting-point of all the trouble. I had
also every cause to think that there was some criminal secret in the matter. The lady's allusions
to her past, and her refusal to take her husband into her confidence, both pointed in that direction.
I therefore cabled to my friend, Wilson Hargreave, of the New York Police Bureau, who has more than
once made use of my knowledge of London crime. I asked him whether the name of Abe Slaney was known
to him. Here is his reply: 'The most dangerous crook in Chicago.' On the very evening upon which I had
his answer, Hilton Cubitt sent me the last message from Slaney. Working with known letters, it took this form:
.RE.ARE TO MEET THY GO.
The addition of a P and a D completed a message which showed me that the rascal was
proceeding from persuasion to threats, and my knowledge of the crooks of
Chicago prepared me to find that he might very rapidly put his words into
action. I at once came to Norfolk with my friend and colleague, Dr.
Watson, but, unhappily, only in time to find that the worst had already occurred."
"It is a privilege to be associated with you in the handling of a case," said the inspector,
warmly. "You will excuse me, however, if I speak frankly to you. You are
only answerable to yourself, but I have to answer to my superiors. If this
Abe Slaney, living at Elrige's, is indeed the murderer, and if he has made
his escape while I am seated here, I should certainly get into serious trouble."
"You need not be uneasy. He will not try to escape."
"How do you know?"
"To fly would be a confession of guilt."
"Then let us go arrest him."
"I expect him here every instant."
"But why should he come."
"Because I have written and asked him."
"But this is incredible, Mr. Holmes! Why should he come because you have asked him? Would not
such a request rather rouse his suspicions and cause him to fly?"
"I think I have known how to frame the letter," said Sherlock Holmes. "In fact, if I am not very
much mistaken, here is the gentleman himself coming up the drive."
A man was striding up the path which led to the door. He was a tall, handsome, swarthy fellow,
clad in a suit of gray flannel, with a Panama hat, a bristling black beard, and a great, aggressive
hooked nose, and flourishing a cane as he walked. He swaggered up a path as if as if the place belonged
to him, and we heard his loud, confident peal at the bell.
"I think, gentlemen," said Holmes, quietly, "that we had best take up our position behind the door.
Every precaution is necessary when dealing with such a fellow. You will need your handcuffs, Inspector.
You can leave the talking to me."
We waited in silence for a minute -- one of those minutes which one can never forget. Then the door
opened and the man stepped in. In an instant Holmes clapped a pistol to his head, and Martin slipped the
handcuffs over his wrists. It was all done so swiftly and deftly that the fellow was helpless before he knew
that he was attacked. He glared from one to the other of us with a pair of blazing black eyes. Then he burst
into a bitter laugh.
"Well, gentlemen, you have the drop on me this time. I seem to have knocked up against something hard.
But I came here in answer to a letter from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt. Don't tell me that she is in this? Don't tell
me that she helped to set a trap for me?"
"Mrs. Hilton Cubitt was seriously injured, and is at death's door."
The man gave a hoarse cry of grief, which rang through the house.
"You're crazy!" he cried, fiercely. "It was he that was hurt, not she. Who would have hurt
little Elsie? I may have threatened her -- God forgive me! -- but I would not have touched a hair
of her pretty head. Take it back -- you! Say that she is not hurt!"
"She was found badly wounded, by the side of her dead husband."
He sank with a deep groan on the settee and buried his face in his manacled
hands. For five minutes he was silent. Then he raised his face once more,
and spoke with the cold composure of despair.
"I have nothing to hide from you, gentlemen," said he. "If I shot the man
he had his shot at me, and there's no murder in that. But if you think I
could have hurt that woman, then you don't know either me or her. I tell
you, there was never a man in this world loved a woman more than I loved
her. I had a right to her. She was pledged to me years ago. Who was this
Englishman that he should come between us? I tell you that I had the first
right to her, and that I was only claiming my own.
"She broke away from your influence when she found the man that you are," said Holmes, sternly.
"She fled from America to avoid you, and she married an honourable gentleman in England. You dogged
her and followed her and made her life a misery to her, in order to induce her to abandon the husband
whom she loved and respected in order to fly with you, whom she feared and hated. You have ended by
bringing about the death of a noble man and driving his wife to suicide. That is your record in this
business, Mr. Abe Slaney, and you will answer for it to the law."
"If Elsie dies, I care nothing what becomes of me," said the American. He
opened one of his hands, and looked at a note crumpled up in his palm.
"See here, mister! he cried, with a gleam of suspicion in his eyes,
"you're not trying to scare me over this, are you? If the lady is hurt as bad as you say,
who was it that wrote this note?" He tossed it forward on to the table.
"I wrote it, to bring you here."
"You wrote it? There was no one on earth outside the Joint who knew the secret of the dancing men.
How came you to write it?"
"What one man can invent another can discover," said Holmes. There is a cab coming to convey you to
Norwich, Mr. Slaney. But meanwhile, you have time to make some small reparation for the injury you have
wrought. Are you aware that Mrs. Hilton Cubitt has herself lain under grave suspicion of the murder of her
husband, and that it was only my presence here, and the knowledge which I happened to possess, which has
saved her from the accusation? The least that you owe her is to make it clear to the whole world that she
was in no way, directly or indirectly, responsible for his tragic end."
"I ask nothing better," said the American. "I guess the very best case I can make for myself is the absolute naked truth."
"It is my duty to warn you that it will be used against you," cried the inspector, with the magnificent fair
play of the British criminal law.
Slaney shrugged his shoulders.
"I'll chance that," said he. "First of all, I want you gentlemen to understand that I have known this lady
since she was a child. There were seven of us in a gang in Chicago, and Elsie's father was the boss of the Joint.
He was a clever man, was old Patrick. It was he who invented that writing, which would pass as a child's scrawl
unless you just happened to have the key to it. Well, Elsie learned some of our ways, but she couldn't stand the
business, and she had a bit of honest money of her own, so she gave us all the slip and got away to London. She
had been engaged to me, and she would have married me, I believe, if I had taken over another profession, but she
would have nothing to do with anything on the cross. It was only after her marriage to this Englishman that I was
able to find out where she was. I wrote to her, but got no answer. After that I came over, and, as letters were no
use, I put my messages where she could read them.
"Well, I have been here a month now. I lived in that farm, where I had a
room down below, and could get in and out every night, and no one the
wiser. I tried all I could to coax Elsie away. I knew that she read the
messages, for once she wrote an answer under one of them. Then my temper
got the better of me, and I began to threaten her. She sent me a letter
then, imploring me to go away, and saying that it would break her heart if
any scandal should come upon her husband. She said that she would come
down when her husband was asleep at three in the morning, and speak with
me through the end window, if I would go away afterwards and leave her in
peace. She came down and brought money with her, trying to bribe me to go.
This made me mad, and I caught her arm and tried to pull her through the
window. At that moment in rushed the husband with his revolver in his
hand. Elsie had sunk down upon the floor, and we were face to face. I was
heeled also, and I held up my gun to scare him off and let me get away. He
fired and missed me. I pulled off almost at the same instant, and down he
dropped. I made away across the garden, and as I went I heard the window
shut behind me. That's God's truth, gentlemen, every word of it, and I
heard no more about it until that lad came riding up with a note which
made me walk in here, like a jay, and give myself into your hands."
A cab had driven up whilst the American had been talking. Two uniformed policemen sat inside.
Inspector Martin rose and touched his prisoner on the shoulder.
"It is time for us to go."
"Can I see her first?"
"No, she is not conscious. Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I only hope that if ever again I have an important
case, I shall have the good fortune to have you by my side."
We stood at the window and watched the cab drive away. As I turned back, my eye caught the pellet of
paper which the prisoner had tossed upon the table. It was the note with which Holmes had decoyed him.
"See if you can read it, Watson," said he, with a smile.
It contained no word, but this little line of dancing men:
"If you use the code which I have explained," said Holmes, "you will find that it simply
means 'Come here at once.' I was convinced that it was an invitation which he would not refuse,
since he could never imagine that it could come from anyone but the lady. And so, my dear Watson,
we have ended by turning the dancing men to good when they have so often been the agents of evil,
and I think that I have fulfilled my promise of giving you something unusual for your notebook.
Three-forty is our train, and I fancy we should be back in Baker Street for dinner."
Only one word of epilogue. The American, Abe Slaney, was condemned to death at the winter
assizes at Norwich, but his penalty was changed to penal servitude in consideration of mitigating
circumstances, and the certainty that Hilton Cubitt had fired the first shot. Of Mrs. Hilton Cubitt
I only know that I have heard she recovered entirely, and that she still remains a widow, devoting
her whole life to the care of the poor and to the administration of her husband's estate.