The ideas of my friend Watson, though limited, are exceedingly
pertinacious. For a long time he has worried me to write an experience of
my own. Perhaps I have rather invited this persecution, since I have often
had occasion to point out to him how superficial are his own accounts and
to accuse him of pandering to popular taste instead of confining himself
rigidly to facts and figures. "Try it yourself, Holmes!" he has retorted,
and I am compelled to admit that, having taken my pen in my hand, I do
begin to realize that the matter must be presented in such a way as may
interest the reader. The following case can hardly fail to do so, as it is
among the strangest happenings in my collection though it chanced that
Watson had no note of it in his collection. Speaking of my old friend and
biographer, I would take this opportunity to remark that if I burden
myself with a companion in my various little inquiries it is not done out
of sentiment or caprice, but it is that Watson has some remarkable
characteristics of his own to which in his modesty he has given small
attention amid his exaggerated estimates of my own performances. A
confederate who foresees your conclusions and course of action is always
dangerous, but one to whom each development comes as a perpetual surprise,
and to whom the future is always a closed book, is indeed an ideal
helpmate.
I find from my notebook that it was in January, 1903, just after the
conclusion of the Boer War, that I had my visit from Mr. James M. Dodd, a
big, fresh, sunburned, upstanding Briton. The good Watson had at that time
deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can recall in our
association. I was alone.
It is my habit to sit with my back to the window and to place my
visitors in the opposite chair, where the light falls full upon them. Mr.
James M. Dodd seemed somewhat at a loss how to begin the interview. I did
not attempt to help him, for his silence gave me more time for
observation. I have found it wise to impress clients with a sense of
power, and so I gave him some of my conclusions.
"From South Africa, sir, I perceive."
"Yes, sir," he answered, with some surprise.
"Imperial Yeomanry, I fancy."
"Exactly."
"Middlesex Corps, no doubt."
"That is so. Mr. Holmes, you are a wizard."
I smiled at his bewildered expression.
"When a gentleman of virile appearance enters my room with such tan
upon his face as an English sun could never give, and with his
handkerchief in his sleeve instead of in his pocket, it is not difficult
to place him. You wear a short beard, which shows that you were not a
regular. You have the cut of a riding-man. As to Middlesex, your card has
already shown me that you are a stockbroker from Throgmorton Street. What
other regiment would you join?"
"You see everything."
"I see no more than you, but I have trained myself to notice what I
see. However, Mr. Dodd, it was not to discuss the science of observation
that you called upon me this morning. What has been happening at Tuxbury
Old Park?"
"Mr. Holmes ––!"
"My dear sir, there is no mystery. Your letter came with that
heading, and as you fixed this appointment in very pressing terms it was
clear that something sudden and important had occurred."
"Yes, indeed. But the letter was written in the afternoon, and a good
deal has happened since then. If Colonel Emsworth had not kicked me out
--"
"Kicked you out!"
"Well, that was what it amounted to. He is a hard nail, is Colonel
Emsworth. The greatest martinet in the Army in his day, and it was a day
of rough language, too. I couldn't have stuck the colonel if it had not
been for Godfrey's sake."
I lit my pipe and leaned back in my chair.
"Perhaps you will explain what you are talking about."
My client grinned mischievously.
"I had got into the way of supposing that you knew everything without
being told," said he. "But I will give you the facts, and I hope to God
that you will be able to tell me what they mean. I've been awake all night
puzzling my brain, and the more I think the more incredible does it
become.
"When I joined up in January, 1901 –– just two years ago –– young
Godfrey Emsworth had joined the same squadron. He was Colonel Emsworth's
only son –– Emsworth the Crimean V. C. –– and he had the fighting blood in
him, so it is no wonder he volunteered. There was not a finer lad in the
regiment. We formed a friendship –– the sort of friendship which can only
be made when one lives the same life and shares the same joys and sorrows.
He was my mate –– and that means a good deal in the Army. We took the
rough and the smooth together for a year of hard fighting. Then he was hit
with a bullet from an elephant gun in the action near Diamond Hill
outside-Pretoria. I got one letter from the hospital at Cape Town and one
from Southampton. Since then not a word –– not one word, Mr. Holmes, for
six months and more, and he my closest pal.
"Well, when the war was over, and we all got back, I wrote to his
father and asked where Godfrey was. No answer. I waited a bit and then I
wrote again. This time I had a reply, short and gruff. Godfrey had gone on
a voyage round the world, and it was not likely that he would be back for
a year. That was all.
"I wasn't satisfied, Mr. Holmes. The whole thing seemed to me so
damned unnatural. He was a good lad, and he would not drop a pal like
that. It was not like him. Then, again, I happened to know that he was
heir to a lot of money, and also that his father and he did not always hit
it off too well. The old man was sometimes a bully, and young Godfrey had
too much spirit to stand it. No, I wasn't satisfied, and I determined that
I would get to the root of the matter. It happened, however, that my own
affairs needed a lot of straightening out, after two years' absence, and
so it is only this week that I have been able to take up Godfrey's case
again. But since I have taken it up I mean to drop everything in order to
see it through."
Mr. James M. Dodd appeared to be the sort of person whom it would be
better to have as a friend than as an enemy. His blue eyes were stern and
his square jaw had set hard as he spoke.
"Well, what have you done?" I asked.
"My first move was to get down to his home, Tuxbury Old Park, near
Bedford, and to see for myself how the ground lay. I wrote to the mother,
therefore –– I had had quite enough of the curmudgeon of a father –– and I
made a clean frontal attack: Godfrey was my chum, I had a great deal of
interest which I might tell her of our common experiences, I should be in
the neighbourhood, would there be any objection, et cetera? In reply I had
quite an amiable answer from her and an offer to put me up for the night.
That was what took me down on Monday.
"Tuxbury Old Hall is inaccessible –– five miles from anywhere. There
was no trap at the station, so I had to walk, carrying my suitcase, and it
was nearly dark before I arrived. It is a great wandering house, standing
in a considerable park. I should judge it was of all sorts of ages and
styles, starting on a half-timbered Elizabethan foundation and ending in a
Victorian portico. Inside it was all panelling and tapestry and
half-effaced old pictures, a house of shadows and mystery. There was a
butler, old Ralph, who seemed about the same age as the house, and there
was his wife, who might have been older. She had been Godfrey's nurse, and
I had heard him speak of her as second only to his mother in his
affections, so I was drawn to her in spite of her queer appearance. The
mother I liked also –– a gentle little white mouse of a woman. It was only
the colonel himself whom I barred.
"We had a bit of barney right away, and I should have walked back to
the station if I had not felt that it might be playing his game for me to
do so. I was shown straight into his study, and there I found him, a huge,
bow-backed man with a smoky skin and a straggling gray beard, seated
behind his littered desk. A red-veined nose jutted out like a vulture's
beak, and two fierce gray eyes glared at me from under tufted brows. I
could understand now why Godfrey seldom spoke of his father.
" 'Well, sir,' said he in a rasping voice, 'I should be interested to
know the real reasons for this visit.'
"I answered that I had explained them in my letter to his wife.
" 'Yes, yes, you said that you had known Godfrey in Africa. We have,
of course, only your word for that.'
" 'I have his letters to me in my pocket.'
" 'Kindly let me see them.'
"He glanced at the two which I handed him, and then he tossed them
back.
" 'Well, what then?' he asked.
" 'I was fond of your son Godfrey, sir. Many ties and memories united
us. Is it not natural that I should wonder at his sudden silence and
should wish to know what has become of him?'
" 'I have some recollections, sir, that I had already corresponded
with you and had told you what had become of him. He has gone upon a
voyage round the world. His health was in a poor way after his African
experiences, and both his mother and I were of opinion that camplete rest
and change were needed. Kindly pass that explanation on to any other
friends who may be interested in the matter.'
" 'Certainly,' I answered. 'But perhaps you would have the goodness
to let me have the name of the steamer and of the line by which he sailed,
together with the date. I have no doubt that I should be able to get a
letter through to him.'
"My request seemed both to puzzle and to irritate my host. His great
eyebrows came down over his eyes, and he tapped his fingers impatiently on
the table. He looked up at last with the expression of one who has seen
his adversary make a dangerous move at chess, and has decided how to meet
it.
" 'Many people, Mr. Dodd,' said he, 'would take offence at your
infernal pertinacity and would think that this insistence had reached the
point of damned impertinence.'
" 'You must put it down, sir, to my real love for your son.'
" 'Exactly. I have already made every allowance upon that score. I
must ask you, however, to drop these inquiries. Every family has its own
inner knowledge and its own motives, which cannot always be made clear to
outsiders, however well-intentioned. My wife is anxious to hear something
of Godfrey's past which you are in a position to tell her, but I would ask
you to let the present and the future alone. Such inquiries serve no
useful purpose, sir, and place us in a delicate and difficult position.'
"So I came to a dead end, Mr. Holmes. There was no getting past it. I
could only pretend to accept the situation and register a vow inwardly
that I would never rest until my friend's fate had been cleared up. It was
a dull evening. We dined quietly, the three of us, in a gloomy, faded old
room. The lady questioned me eagerly about her son, but the old man seemed
morose and depressed. I was so bored by the whole proceeding that I made
an excuse as soon as I decently could and retired to my bedroom. It was a
large, bare room on the ground floor, as gloomy as the rest of the house,
but after a year of sleeping upon the veldt, Mr. Holmes, one is not too
particular about one's quarters. I opened the curtains and looked out into
the garden, remarking that it was a fine night with a bright half-moon.
Then I sat down by the roaring fire with the lamp on a table beside me,
and endeavoured to distract my mind with a novel. I was interrupted,
however, by Ralph, the old butler, who came in with a fresh supply of
coals.
" 'I thought you might run short in the night-time, sir. It is bitter
weather and these rooms are cold.'
"He hesitated before leaving the room, and when I looked round he was
standing facing me with a wistful look upon his wrinkled face.
" 'Beg your pardon, sir, but I could not help hearing what you said
of young Master Godfrey at dinner. You know, sir, that my wife nursed him,
and so I may say I am his foster-father. It's natural we should take an
interest. And you say he carried himself well, sir?'
" 'There was no braver man in the regiment. He pulled me out once
from under the rifles of the Boers, or maybe I should not be here.'
"The old butler rubbed his skinny hands.
" 'Yes, sir, yes, that is Master Godfrey all over. He was always
courageous. There's not a tree in the park, sir, that he has not climbed.
Nothing would stop him. He was a fine boy –– and oh, sir, he was a fine
man.'
"I sprang to my feet.
" 'Look here!' I cried. 'You say he was. You speak as if he were
dead. What is all this mystery? What has become of Godfrey Emsworth?'
"I gripped the old man by the shoulder, but he shrank away.
" 'I don't know what you mean, sir. Ask the master about Master
Godfrey. He knows. It is not for me to interfere.'
"He was leaving the room, but I held his arm
" 'Listen,' I said. 'You are going to answer one question before you
leave if I have to hold you all night. Is Godfrey dead?"
"He could not face my eyes. He was like a man hypnotized The answer
was dragged from his lips. It was a terrible and unexpected one.
" 'I wish to God he was!' he cried, and, tearing himself free he
dashed from the room.
"You will think, Mr. Holmes, that I returned to my chair in no very
happy state of mind. The old man's words seemed to me to bear only one
interpretation. Clearly my poor friend had become involved in some
criminal or, at the least, disreputable transaction which touched the
family honour. That stern old man had sent his son away and hidden him
from the world lest some scandal should come to light. Godfrey was a
reckless fellow. He was easily influenced by those around him. No doubt he
had fallen into bad hands and been misled to his ruin. It was a piteous
business, if it was indeed so, but even now it was my duty to hunt him out
and see if I could aid him. I was anxiously pondering the matter when I
looked up, and there was Godfrey Emsworth standing before me."
My client had paused as one in deep emotion.
"Pray continue," I said. "Your problem presents some very unusual
features."
"He was outside the window, Mr. Holmes, with his face pressed against
the glass. I have told you that I looked out at the night. When I did so I
left the curtains partly open. His figure was framed in this gap. The
window came down to the ground and I could see the whole length of it, but
it was his face which held my gaze. He was deadly pale –– never have I
seen a man so white. I reckon ghosts may look like that; but his eyes met
mine, and they were the eyes of a living man. He sprang back when he saw
that I was looking at him, and he vanished into the darkness.
"There was something shocking about the man, Mr. Holmes. It wasn't
merely that ghastly face glimmering as white as cheese in the darkness. It
was more subtle than that –– something slinking, something furtive,
something guilty –– something very unlike the frank, manly lad that I had
known. It left a feeling of horror in my mind.
"But when a man has been soldiering for a year or two with brother
Boer as a playmate, he keeps his nerve and acts quickly. Godfrey had
hardly vanished before I was at the window. There was an awkward catch,
and I was some little time before I could throw it up. Then I nipped
through and ran down the garden path in the direction that I thought he
might have taken.
"It was a long path and the light was not very good, but it seemed to
me something was moving ahead of me. I ran on and called his name, but it
was no use. When I got to the end of the path there were several others
branching in different directions to various outhouses. I stood
hesitating, and as I did so I heard distinctly the sound of a closing
door. It was not behind me in the house, but ahead of me, somewhere in the
darkness. That was enough, Mr. Holmes, to assure me that what I had seen
was not a vision. Godfrey had run away from me, and he had shut a door
behind him. Of that I was certain.
"There was nothing more I could do, and I spent an uneasy night
turning the matter over in my mind and trying to find some theory which
would cover the facts. Next day I found the colonel rather more
conciliatory, and as his wife remarked that there were some places of
interest in the neighbourhood, it gave me an opening to ask whether my
presence for one more night would incommode them. A somewhat grudging
acquiescence from the old man gave me a clear day in which to make my
observations. I was already perfectly convinced that Godfrey was in hiding
somewhere near, but where and why remained to be solved.
"The house was so large and so rambling that a regiment might be hid
away in it and no one the wiser. If the secret lay there it was difficult
for me to penetrate it. But the door which I had heard close was certainly
not in the house. I must explore the garden and see what I could find.
There was no difficulty in the way, for the old people were busy in their
own fashion and left me to my own devices.
"There were several small outhouses, but at the end of the garden
there was a detached building of some size –– large enough for a
gardener's or a gamekeeper's residence. Could this be the place whence the
sound of that shutting door had come? I approached it in a careless
fashion as though I were strolling aimlessly round the grounds. As I did
so, a small, brisk, bearded man in a black coat and bowler hat –– not at
all the gardener type –– came out of the door. To my surprise, he locked
it after him and put the key in his pocket. Then he looked at me with some
surprise on his face.
" 'Are you a visitor here?' he asked.
"I explained that I was and that I was a friend of Godfrey's.
" 'What a pity that he should be away on his travels, for he would
have so liked to see me,' I continued.
" 'Quite so. Exactly,' said he with a rather guilty air. 'No doubt
you will renew your visit at some more propitious time.' He passed on, but
when I turned I observed that he was standing watching me, half-concealed
by the laurels at the far end of the garden.
"I had a good look at the little house as I passed it, but the
windows were heavily curtained, and, so far as one could see, it was
empty. I might spoil my own game and even be ordered off the premises if I
were too audacious, for I was still conscious that I was being watched.
Therefore, I strolled back to the house and waited for night before I went
on with my inquiry. When all was dark and quiet I slipped out of my window
and made my way as silently as possible to the mysterious lodge.
"I have said that it was heavily curtained, but now I found that the
windows were shuttered as well. Some light, however, was breaking through
one of them, so I concentrated my attention upon this. I was in luck, for
the curtain had not been quite closed, and there was a crack in the
shutter, so that I could see the inside of the room. It was a cheery place
enough, a bright lamp and a blazing fire. Opposite to me was seated the
little man whom I had seen in the morning. He was smoking a pipe and
reading a paper."
"What paper?" I asked.
My client seemed annoyed at the interruption of his narrative.
"Can it matter?" he asked.
"It is most essential."
"I really took no notice."
"Possibly you observed whether it was a broad-leafed paper or of that
smaller type which one associates with weeklies."
"Now that you mention it, it was not large. It might have been the
Spectator. However, I had little thought to spare upon such details, for a
second man was seated with his back to the window, and I could swear that
this second man was Godfrey. I could not see his face, but I knew the
familiar slope of his shoulders. He was leaning upon his elbow in an
attitude of great melancholy, his body turned towards the fire. I was
hesitating as to what I should do when there was a sharp tap on my
shoulder, and there was Colonel Emsworth beside me.
" 'This way, sir!' said he in a low voice. He walked in silence to
the house, and I followed him into my own bedroom. He had picked up a
time-table in the hall.
" There is a train to London at 8:30,' said he. 'The trap will be at
the door at eight.'
"He was white with rage, and, indeed, I felt myself in so difficult a
position that I could only stammer out a few incoherent apologies in which
I tried to excuse myself by urging my anxiety for my friend.
" 'The matter will not bear discussion,' said he abruptly. 'You have
made a most damnable intrusion into the privacy of our family. You were
here as a guest and you have become a spy. I have nothing more to say,
sir, save that I have no wish ever to see you again.'
"At this I lost my temper, Mr. Holmes, and I spoke with some warmth.
" 'I have seen your son, and I am convinced that for some reason of
your own you are concealing him from the world. I have no idea what your
motives are in cutting him off in this fashion, but I am sure that he is
no longer a free agent. I warn you, Colonel Emsworth, that until I am
assured as to the safety and well-being of my friend I shall never desist
in my efforts to get to the bottom of the mystery, and I shall certainly
not allow myself to be intimidated by anything which you may say or do.'
"The old fellow looked diabolical, and I really thought he was about
to attack me. I have said that he was a gaunt, fierce old giant, and
though I am no weakling I might have been hard put to it to hold my own
against him. However, after a long glare of rage he turned upon his heel
and walked out of the room. For my part, I took the appointed train in the
morning, with the full intention of coming straight to you and asking for
your advice and assistance at the appointment for which I had already
written."
Such was the problem which my visitor laid before me. It presented,
as the astute reader will have already perceived, few difficulties in its
solution, for a very limited choice of alternatives must get to the root
of the matter. Still, elementary as it was, there were points of interest
and novelty about it which may excuse my placing it upon record. I now
proceeded, using my familiar method of logical analysis, to narrow down
the possible solutions.
"The servants," I asked; "how many were in the house?"
"To the best of my belief there were only the old butler and his
wife. They seemed to live in the simplest fashion."
"There was no servant, then, in the detached house?"
"None, unless the little man with the beard acted as such. He seemed,
however, to be quite a superior person."
"That seems very suggestive. Had you any indication that food was
conveyed from the one house to the other?"
"Now that you mention it, I did see old Ralph carrying a basket down
the garden walk and going in the direction of this house. The idea of food
did not occur to me at the moment."
"Did you make any local inquiries?"
"Yes, I did. I spoke to the station-master and also to the innkeeper
in the village. I simply asked if they knew anything of my old comrade,
Godfrey Emsworth. Both of them assured me that he had gone for a voyage
round the world. He had come home and then had almost at once started off
again. The story was evidently universally accepted."
"You said nothing of your suspicions?"
"Nothing."
"That was very wise. The matter should certainly be inquired into. I
will go back with you to Tuxbury Old Park."
"To-day?"
It happened that at the moment I was clearing up the case which my
friend Watson has described as that of the Abbey School, in which the Duke
of Greyminster was so deeply involved. I had also a commission from the
Sultan of Turkey which called for immediate action, as political
consequences of the gravest kind might arise from its neglect. Therefore
it was not until the beginning of the next week, as my diary records, that
I was able to start forth on my mission to Bedfordshire in company with
Mr. James M. Dodd. As we drove to Eustonn we picked up a grave and tacitum
gentleman of iron-gray aspect, with whom I had made the necessary
arrangements.
"This is an old friend," said I to Dodd. "It is possible that his
presence may be entirely unnecessary, and, on the other hand, it may be
essential. It is not necessary at the present stage to go further into the
matter."
The narratives of Watson have accustomed the reader, no doubt, to the
fact that I do not waste words or disclose my thoughts while a case is
actually under consideration. Dodd seemed surprised, but nothing more was
said, and the three of us continued our journey together. In the train I
asked Dodd one more question which I wished our companion to hear.
"You say that you saw your friend's face quite clearly at the window,
so clearly that you are sure of his identity?"
"I have no doubt about it whatever. His nose was pressed against the
glass. The lamplight shone full upon him."
"It could not have been someone resembling him?"
"No, no, it was he."
"But you say he was changed?"
"Only in colour. His face was –– how shall I describe it? –– it was
of a fish-belly whiteness. It was bleached."
"Was it equally pale all over?"
"I think not. It was his brow which I saw so clearly as it was
pressed against the window."
"Did you call to him?"
"I was too startled and horrified for the moment. Then I pursued him,
as I have told you, but without result."
My case was practically complete, and there was only one small
incident needed to round it off. When, after a considerable drive, we
arrived at the strange old rambling house which my client had described,
it was Ralph, the elderly butler, who opened the door. I had requisitioned
the carriage for the day and had asked my elderly friend to remain within
it unless we should summon him. Ralph, a little wrinkled old fellow, was
in the conventional costume of black coat and pepper-and-salt trousers,
with only one curious variant. He wore brown leather gloves, which at
sight of us he instantly shuffled off, laying them down on the hall-table
as we passed in. I have, as my friend Watson may have remarked, an
abnormally acute set of senses, and a faint but incisive scent was
apparent. It seemed to centre on the hall table. I turned, placed my hat
there, knocked it off, stooped to pick it up, and contrived to bring my
nose within a foot of the gloves. Yes, it was undoubtedly from them that
the curious tarry odour was oozing. I passed on into the study with my
case complete. Alas, that I should have to show my hand so when I tell my
own story! It was by concealing such links in the chain that Watson was
enabled to produce his meretricious finales.
Colonel Emsworth was not in his room, but he came quickly enough on
receipt of Ralph's message. We heard his quick, heavy step in the passage.
The door was flung open and he rushed in with bristling beard and twisted
features, as terrible an old man as ever I have seen. He held our cards in
his hand, and he tore them up and stamped on the fragments.
"Have I not told you, you infernal busybody, that you are warned off
the premises? Never dare to show your damned face here again. If you enter
again without my leave I shall be within my rights if I use violence. I'll
shoot you, sir! By God, I will! As to you, sir," turning upon me, "I
extend the same warning to you. I am familiar with your ignoble
profession, but you must take your reputed talents to some other field.
There is no opening for them here."
"I cannot leave here," said my client firmly, "until I hear from
Godfrey's own lips that he is under no restraint."
Our involuntary host rang the bell.
"Ralph," he said, "telephone down to the county police and ask the
inspector to send up two constables. Tell him there are burglars in the
house."
"One moment," said I. "You must be aware, Mr. Dodd, that Colonel
Emsworth is within his rights and that we have no legal status within his
house. On the other hand, he should recognize that your action is prompted
entirely by solicitude for his son. I venture to hope that if I were
allowed to have five minutes conversation with Colonel Emsworth I could
certainly alter his view of the matter."
"I am not so easily altered," said the old soldier. "Ralph, do what I
have told you. What the devil are you waiting for? Ring up the police!"
"Nothing of the sort," I said, putting my back to the door. "Any
police interference would bring about the very catastrophe which you
dread." I took out my notebook and scribbled one word upon a loose sheet.
"That," said I as I handed it to Colonel Emsworth, "is what has brought us
here."
He stared at the writing with a face from which every expression save
amazement had vanished.
"How do you know?" he gasped, sitting down heavily in his chair.
"It is my business to know things. That is my trade."
He sat in deep thought, his gaunt hand tugging at his straggling
beard. Then he made a gesture of resignation.
"Well, if you wish to see Godfrey, you shall. It is no doing of mine,
but you have forced my hand. Ralph, tell Mr. Godfrey and Mr. Kent that in
five minutes we shall be with them."
At the end of that time we passed down the garden path and found
ourselves in front of the mystery house at the end. A small bearded man
stood at the door with a look of considerable astonishment upon his face.
"This is very sudden, Colonel Emsworth," said he. "This will
disarrange all our plans."
"I can't help it, Mr. Kent. Our hands have been forced. Can Mr.
Godfrey see us?"
"Yes, he is waiting inside." He turned and led us into a large
plainly furnished front room. A man was standing with his back to the
fire, and at the sight of him my client sprang forward with outstretched
hand.
"Why, Godfrey, old man, this is fine!"
But the other waved him back.
"Don't touch me, Jimmie. Keep your distance. Yes, you may well stare!
I don't quite look the smart Lance-Corporal Emsworth, of B Squadron, do
I?"
His appearance was certainly extraordinary. One could see that he had
indeed been a handsome man with clear-cut features sunburned by an African
sun, but mottled in patches over this darker surface were curious whitish
patches which had bleached his skin.
"That's why I don't court visitors," said he. "I don't mind you,
Jimmie, but I could have done without your friend. I suppose there is some
good reason for it, but you have me at a disadvantage."
"I wanted to be sure that all was well with you, Godfrey. I saw you
that night when you looked into my window, and I could not let the matter
rest till I had cleared things up."
"Old Ralph told me you were there, and I couldn't help taking a peep
at you. I hoped you would not have seen me, and I had to run to my burrow
when I heard the window go up."
"But what in heaven's name is the matter?"
"Well, it's not a long story to tell," said he, lighting a cigarette.
"You remember that morning fight at Buffelsspruit, outside Pretoria, on
the Eastern railway line? You heard I was hit?"
"Yes, I heard that but I never got particulars."
"Three of us got separated from the others. It was very broken
country, you may remember. There was Simpson –– the fellow we called Baldy
Simpson –– and Anderson, and I. We were clearing brother Boer, but he lay
low and got the three of us. The other two were killed. I got an elephant
bullet through my shoulder. I stuck on to my horse, however, and he
galloped several miles before I fainted and rolled off the saddle.
"When I came to myself it was nightfall, and I raised myself up,
feeling very weak and ill. To my surprise there was a house close beside
me, a fairly large house with a broad stoep and many windows. It was
deadly cold. You remember the kind of numb cold which used to come at
evening, a deadly, sickening sort of cold, very different from a crisp
healthy frost. Well, I was chilled to the bone, and my only hope seemed to
lie in reaching that house. I staggered to my feet and dragged myself
along, hardly conscious of what I did. I have a dim memory of slowly
ascending the steps, entering a wide-opened door, passing into a large
room which contained several beds, and throwing myself down with a gasp of
satisfaction upon one of them. It was unmade, but that troubled me not at
all. I drew the clothes over my shivering body and in a moment I was in a
deep sleep.
"It was morning when I wakened, and it seemed to me that instead of
coming out into a world of sanity I had emerged into some extraordinary
nightmare. The African sun flooded through the big, curtainless windows,
and every detail of the great, bare, whitewashed dormitory stood out hard
and clear. In front of me was standing a small, dwarf-like man with a
huge, bulbous head, who was jabbering excitedly in Dutch, waving two
horrible hands which looked to me like brown sponges. Behind him stood a
group of people who seemed to be intensely amused by the situation, but a
chill came over me as I looked at them. Not one of them was a normal human
being. Every one was twisted or swollen or disfigured in some strange way.
The laughter of these strange monstrosities was a dreadful thing to hear.
"It seemed that none of them could speak English, but the situation
wanted clearing up, for the creature with the big head was growing
furiously angry, and, uttering wild-beast cries, he had laid his deformed
hands upon me and was dragging me out of bed, regardless of the fresh flow
of blood from my wound. The little monster was as strong as a bull, and I
don't know what he might have done to me had not an elderly man who was
clearly in authority been attracted to the room by the hubbub; He said a
few stern words in Dutch, and my persecutor shrank away. Then he turned
upon me, gazing at me in the utmost amazement.
" 'How in the world did you come here?' he asked in amazement. 'Wait
a bit! I see that you are tired out and that wounded shoulder of yours
wants looking after. I am a doctor, and I'll soon have you tied up. But,
man alive! you are in far greater danger here than ever you were on the
battlefield. You are in the Leper Hospital, and you have slept in a
leper's bed.'
"Need I tell you more, Jimmie? It seems that in view of the
approaching battle all these poor creatures had been evacuated the day
before. Then, as the British advanced, they had been brought back by this,
their medical superintendent, who assured me that, though he believed he
was immune to the disease, he would none the less never have dared to do
what I had done. He put me in a private room, treated me kindly, and
within a week or so I was removed to the general hospital at Pretoria.
"So there you have my tragedy. I hoped against hope, but it was not
until I had reached home that the terrible signs which you see upon my
face told me that I had not escaped. What was I to do? I was in this
lonely house. We had two servants whom we could utterly trust. There was a
house where I could live. Under pledge of secrecy, Mr. Kent, who is a
surgeon, was prepared to stay with me. It seemed simple enough on those
lines. The alternative was a dreadful one –– segregation for life among
strangers with never a hope of release. But absolute secrecy was
necessary, or even in this quiet countryside there would have been an
outcry, and I should have been dragged to my horrible doom. Even you,
Jimmie –– even you had to be kept in the dark. Why my father has relented
I cannot imagine."
Colonel Emsworth pointed to me.
"This is the gentleman who forced my hand." He unfolded the scrap of
paper on which I had written the word "Leprosy." "It seemed to me that if
he knew so much as that it was safer that he should know all."
"And so it was," said I. "Who knows but good may come of it? I
understand that only Mr. Kent has seen the patient. May I ask, sir, if you
are an authority on such complaints, which are, I understand, tropical or
semi-tropical in their nature?"
"I have the ordinary knowledge of the educated medical man," he
observed with some stiffness.
"I have no doubt, sir, that you are fully competent, but I am sure
that you will agree that in such a case a second opinion is valuable. You
have avoided this, I understand, for fear that pressure should be put upon
you to segregate the patient."
"That is so," said Colonel Emsworth.
"I foresaw this situation," I explained, "and I have brought with me
a friend whose discretion may absolutely be trusted. I was able once to do
him a professional service, and he is ready to advise as a friend rather
than as a specialist. His name is Sir James Saunders."
The prospect of an interview with Lord Roberts would not have excited
greater wonder and pleasure in a raw subaltern than was now reflected upon
the face of Mr. Kent.
"I shall indeed be proud," he murmured.
"Then I will ask Sir James to step this way. He is at present in the
carriage outside the door. Meanwhile, Colonel Emsworth, we may perhaps
assemble in your study, where I could give the necessary explanations."
And here it is that I miss my Watson. By cunning questions and
ejaculations of wonder he could elevate my simple art, which is but
systematized common sense, into a prodigy. When I tell my own story I have
no such aid. And yet I will give my process of thought even as I gave it
to my small audience, which included Godfrey's mother in the study of
Colonel Emsworth.
"That process," said I, "starts upon the supposition that when you
have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains, however
improbable, must be the truth. It may well be that several explanations
remain, in which case one tries test after test until one or other of them
has a convincing amount of support. We will now apply this principle to
the case in point. As it was first presented to me, there were three
possible explanations of the seclusion or incarceration of this gentleman
in an outhouse of his father's mansion. There was the explanation that he
was in hiding for a crime, or that he was mad and that they wished to
avoid an asylum, or that he had some disease which caused his segregation.
I could think of no other adequate solutions. These, then, had to be
sifted and balanced against each other.
"The criminal solution would not bear inspection. No unsolved crime
had been reported from that district. I was sure of that. If it were some
crime not yet discovered, then clearly it would be to the interest of the
family to get rid of the delinquent and send him abroad rather than keep
him concealed at home. I could see no explanation for such a line of
conduct.
"Insanity was more plausible. The presence of the second person in
the outhouse suggested a keeper. The fact that he locked the door when he
came out strengthened the supposition and gave the idea of constraint. On
the other hand, this constraint could not be severe or the young man could
not have got loose and come down to have a look at his friend. You will
remember, Mr. Dodd, that I felt round for points, asking you, for example,
about the paper which Mr. Kent was reading. Had it been the Lancet or the
British Medical Journal it would have helped me. It is not illegal,
however, to keep a lunatic upon private premises so long as there is a
qualified person in attendance and that the authorities have been duly
notified. Why, then, all this desperate desire for secrecy? Once again I
could not get the theory to fit the facts.
"There remained the third possibility, into which, rare and unlikely
as it was, everything seemed to fit. Leprosy is not uncommon in South
Africa. By some extraordinary chance this youth might have contracted it.
His people would be placed in a very dreadful position, since they would
desire to save him from segregation. Great secrecy would be needed to
prevent rumours from getting about and subsequent interference by the
authorities. A devoted medical man, if sufficiently paid, would easily be
found to take charge of the sufferer. There would be no reason why the
latter should not be allowed freedom after dark. Bleaching of the skin is
a common result of the disease. The case was a strong one –– so strong
that I determined to act as if it were actually proved. When on arriving
here I noticed that Ralph, who carries out the meals, had gloves which are
impregnated with disinfectants, my last doubts were removed. A single word
showed you, sir, that your secret was discovered, and if I wrote rather
than said it, it was to prove to you that my discretion was to be
trusted."
I was finishing this little analysis of the case when the door was
opened and the austere figure of the great dermatologist was ushered in.
But for once his sphinx-like features had relaxed and there was a warm
humanity in his eyes. He strode up to Colonel Emsworth and shook him by
the hand.
"It is often my lot to bring ill-tidings and seldom good," said he.
"This occasion is the more welcome. It is not leprosy."
"What?"
"A well-marked case of pseudo-leprosy or ichthyosis, a scalelike
affection of the skin, unsightly, obstinate, but possibly curable, and
certainly noninfective. Yes, Mr. Holmes, the coincidence is a remarkable
one. But is it coincidence? Are there not subtle forces at work of which
we know little? Are we assured that the apprehension from which this young
man has no doubt suffered terribly since his exposure to its contagion may
not produce a physical effect which simulates that which it fears? At any
rate, I pledge my professional reputation –– But the lady has fainted! I
think that Mr. Kent had better be with her until she recovers from this
joyous shock."
