One summer night, a few months after my marriage, I was seated by my
own hearth smoking a last pipe and nodding over a novel, for my day's work
had been an exhausting one. My wife had already gone upstairs, and the
sound of the locking of the hall door some time before told me that the
servants had also retired. I had risen from my seat and was knocking out
the ashes of my pipe when I suddenly heard the clang of the bell.
I looked at the clock. It was a quarter to twelve. This could not be
a visitor at so late an hour. A patient evidently, and possibly an
all-night sitting. With a wry face I went out into the hall and opened the
door. To my astonishment it was Sherlock Holmes who stood upon my step.
"Ah, Watson," said he, "I hoped that I might not be too late to catch
you."
"My dear fellow, pray come in."
"You look surprised, and no wonder! Relieved, too, I fancy! Hum! You
still smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days, then! There's no
mistaking that fluffy ash upon your coat. It's easy to tell that you have
been accustomed to wear a uniform, Watson. You'll never pass as a
pure-bred civilian as long as you keep that habit of carrying your
handkerchief in your sleeve. Could you put me up to-night?"
"With pleasure."
"You told me that you had bachelor quarters for one, and I see that
you have no gentleman visitor at present. Your hat-stand proclaims as
much."
"I shall be delighted if you will stay."
"Thank you. I'll fill the vacant peg then. Sorry to see that you've
had the British workman in the house. He's a token of evil. Not the
drains, I hope?"
"No, the gas."
"Ah! He has left two nail-marks from his boot upon your linoleum just
where the light strikes it. No, thank you, I had some supper at Waterloo,
but I'll smoke a pipe with you with pleasure."
I handed him my pouch, and he seated himself opposite to me and
smoked for some time.in silence. I was well aware that nothing but
business of importance would have brought him to me at such an hour, so I
waited patiently until he should come round to it.
"I see that you are professionally rather busy just now," said he,
glancing very keenly across at me.
"Yes, I've had a busy day," I answered. "It may seem very foolish in
your eyes," I added, "but really I don't know how you deduced it."
Holmes chuckled to himself.
"I have the advantage of knowing your habits, my dear Watson," said
he. "When your round is a short one you walk, and when it is a long one
you use a hansom. As I perceive that your boots, although used, are by no
means dirty, I cannot doubt that you are at present busy enough to justify
the hansom."
"Excellent!" I cried.
"Elementary," said he. "It is one of those instances where the
reasoner can produce an effect which seems remarkable to his neighbour,
because the latter has missed the one little point which is the basis of
the deduction. The same may be said, my dear fellow, for the effect of
some of these little sketches of yours, which is entirely meretricious,
depending as it does upon your retaining in your own hands some factors in
the problem which are never imparted to the reader. Now, at present I am
in the position of these same readers, for I hold in this hand several
threads of one of the strangest cases which ever perplexed a man's brain,
and yet I lack the one or two which are needful to complete my theory. But
I'll have them, Watson, I'll have them!" His eyes kindled and a slight
flush sprang into his thin cheeks. For an instant the veil had lifted upon
his keen, intense nature, but for an instant only. When I glanced again
his face had resumed that red-Indian composure which had made so many
regard him as a machine rather than a man.
"The problem presents features of interest," said he. "I may even say
exceptional features of interest. I have already looked into the matter,
and have come, as I think, within sight of my solution. If you could
accompany me in that last step you might be of considerable service to me."
"I should be delighted."
"Could you go as far as Aldershot to-morrow?"
"I have no doubt Jackson would take my practice."
"Very good. I want to start by the 11:10 from Waterloo."
"That would give me time."
"Then, if you are not too sleepy, I will give you a sketch of what
has happened, and of what remains to be done."
"I was sleepy before you came. I am quite wakeful now."
"I will compress the story as far as may be done without omitting
anything vital to the case. It is conceivable that you may even have read
some account of the matter. It is the supposed murder of Colonel Barclay,
of the Royal Munsters, at Aldershot, which I am investigating."
"I have heard nothing of it."
"It has not excited much attention yet, except locally. The facts are
only two days old. Briefly they are these:
"The Royal Munsters is, as you know, one of the most famous Irish
regiments in the British Army. It did wonders both in the Crimea and the
Mutiny, and has since that time distin-guished itself upon every possible
occasion. It was commanded up to Monday night by James Barclay, a gallant
veteran, who started as a full private, was raised to commissioned rank
for his bravery at the time of the Mutiny, and so lived to command the
regiment in which he had once carried a musket.
"Colonel Barclay had married at the time when he was a sergeant, and
his wife, whose maiden name was Miss Nancy Devoy, was the daughter of a
former colour-sergeant in the same corps. There was, therefore, as can be
imagined, some little social friction when the young couple (for they were
still young) found themselves in their new surroundings. They appear, how-
ever, to have quickly adapted themselves, and Mrs. Barclay has always, I
understand, been as popular with the ladies of the regiment as her husband
was with his brother officers. I may add that she was a woman of great
beauty, and that even now, when she has been married for upward of thirty
years, she is still of a striking and queenly appearance.
"Colonel Barclay's family life appears to have been a uniformly happy
one. Major Murphy, to whom I owe most of my facts, assures me that he has
never heard of any misunderstanding between the pair. On the whole, he
thinks that Barclay's devotion to his wife was greater than his wife's to
Barclay. He was acutely uneasy if he were absent from her for a day. She,
on the other hand, though devoted and faithful, was less obtrusively
affectionate. But they were regarded in the regiment as the very model of
a middle-aged couple. There was absolutely nothing in their mutual
relations to prepare people for the tragedy which was to follow.
"Colonel Barclay himself seems to have had some singular traits in
his character. He was a dashing, jovial old soldier in his usual mood, but
there were occasions on which he seemed to show himself capable of
considerable violence and vindictiveness. This side of his nature,
however, appears never to have been turned towards his wife. Another fact
which had struck Major Murphy and three out of five of the other officers
with whom I conversed was the singular sort of depression which came upon
him at times. As the major expressed it, the smile has often been struck
from his mouth, as if by some invisible hand, when he has been joining in
the gaieties and chaff of the mess-table. For days on end, when the mood
was on him, he has been sunk in the deepest gloom. This and a certain
tinge of superstition were the only unusual traits in his character which
his brother officers had observed. The latter peculiarity took the form of
a dislike to being left alone, especially after dark. This puerile feature
in a nature which was conspicuously manly had often given rise to comment
and conjecture.
"The first battalion of the Royal Munsters (which is the old One
Hundred and Seventeenth) has been stationed at Aldershot for some years.
The married officers live out of barracks, and the colonel has during all
this time occupied a villa called 'Lachine,' about half a mile from the
north camp. The house stands in its own grounds, but the west side of it
is not more than thirty yards from the highroad. A coachman and two maids
form the staff of servants. These with their master and mistress were the
sole occupants of Lachine, for the Barclays had no children, nor was it
usual for them to have resident visitors.
"Now for the events at Lachine between nine and ten on the evening of
last Monday.
"Mrs. Barclay was, it appears, a member of the Roman Catholic Church
and had interested herself very much in the establishment of the Guild of
St. George, which was formed in connection with the Watt Street Chapel for
the purpose of supplying the poor with cast-off clothing. A meeting of the
Guild had been held that evening at eight, and Mrs. Barclay had hurried
over her dinner in order to be present at it. When leaving the house she
was heard by the coachman to make some commonplace remark to her husband,
and to assure him that she would be back before very long. She then called
for Miss Morrison, a young lady who lives in the next villa and the two
went off together to their meeting. It lasted forty minutes, and at a
quarter-past nine Mrs. Barclay returned home, having left Miss Morrison at
her door as she passed.
"There is a room which is used as a morning-room at Lachine. This
faces the road and opens by a large glass folding-door on to the lawn. The
lawn is thirty yards across and is only divided from the highway by a low
wall with an iron rail above it. It was into this room that Mrs. Barclay
went upon her return. The blinds were not down, for the room was seldom
used in the evening, but Mrs. Barclay herself lit the lamp and then rang
the bell, asking Jane Stewart, the housemaid, to bring her a cup of tea,
which was quite contrary to her usual habits. The colonel had been sitting
in the dining-room, but, hearing that his wife had returned, he joined her
in the morning-room. The coachman saw him cross the hall and enter it. He
was never seen again alive.
"The tea which had been ordered was brought up at the end of ten
minutes; but the maid, as she approached the door, was surprised to hear
the voices of her master and mistress in furious altercation. She knocked
without receiving any answer, and even turned the handle, but only to find
that the door was locked upon the inside. Naturally enough she ran down to
tell the cook, and the two women with the coachman came up into the hall
and listened to the dispute which was still raging. They all agreed that
only two voices were to be heard, those of Barclay and of his wife.
Barclay's remarks were subdued and abrupt so that none of them were
audible to the listeners. The lady's, on the other hand, were most bitter,
and when she raised her voice could be plainly heard. 'You coward!' she
repeated over and over again. 'What can be done now? What can be done now?
Give me back my life. I will never so much as breathe the same air with
you again! You coward! You coward!' Those were scraps of her conversation,
ending in a sudden dreadful cry in the man's voice, with a crash, and a
piercing scream from the woman. Convinced that some tragedy had occurred,
the coachman rushed to the door and strove to force it, while scream after
scream issued from within. He was unable, however, to make his way in, and
the maids were too distracted with fear to be of any assistance to him. A
sudden thought struck him, however, and he ran through the hall door and
round to the lawn upon which the long French windows open. One side of the
window was open, which I understand was quite usual in the summer-time,
and he passed without difficulty into the room. His mis- tress had ceased
to scream and was stretched insensible upon a couch, while with his feet
tilted over the side of an armchair, and his head upon the ground near the
corner of the fender, was Iying the unfortunate soldier stone dead in a
pool of his own blood.
"Naturally, the coachman's first thought, on finding that he could do
nothing for his master, was to open the door. But here an unexpected and
singular difficulty presented itself. The key was not in the inner side of
the door, nor could he find it anywhere in the room. He went out again,
therefore, through the window, and, having obtained the help of a
policeman and of a medical man, he returned. The lady, against whom
naturally the strongest suspicion rested, was removed to her room, still
in a state of insensibility. The colonel's body was then placed upon the
sofa and a careful examination made of the scene of the tragedy.
"The injury from which the unfortunate veteran was suffering was
found to be a jagged cut some two inches long at the back part of his
head, which had evidently been caused by a violent blow from a blunt
weapon. Nor was it difficult to guess what that weapon may have been. Upon
the floor, close to the body, was lying a singular club of hard carved
wood with a bone handle. The colonel possessed a varied collection of
weapons brought from the different countries in which he had fought, and
it is conjectured by the police that this club was among his trophies. The
servants deny having seen it before, but among the numerous curiosities in
the house it is possible that it may have been overlooked. Nothing else of
importance was discovered in the room by the police, save the inexplicable
fact that neither upon Mrs. Barclay's person nor upon that of the victim
nor in any part of the room was the missing key to be found. The door had
eventually to be opened by a locksmith from Aldershot.
"That was the state of things, Watson, when upon the Tuesday morning
I, at the request of Major Murphy, went down to Aldershot to supplement
the efforts of the police. I think that you will acknowledge that the
problem was already one of interest, but my observations soon made me
realize that it was in truth much more extraordinary than would at first
sight appear.
"Before examining the room I cross-questioned the servants, but only
succeeded in eliciting the facts which I have already stated. One other
detail of interest was remembered by Jane Stewart, the housemaid. You will
remember that on hearing the sound of the quarrel she descended and
returned with the other servants. On that first occasion, when she was
alone, she says that the voices of her master and mistress were sunk so
low that she could hardly hear anything, and judged by their tones rather
than their words that they had fallen out. On my pressing her, however,
she remembered that she heard the word David uttered twice by the lady.
The point is of the utmost importance as guiding us towards the reason of
the sudden quarrel. The colonel's name, you remember, was James.
"There was one thing in the case which had made the deepest
impression both upon the servants and the police. This was the contortion
of the colonel's face. It had set, according to their account, into the
most dreadful expression of fear and horror which a human countenance is
capable of assuming. More than one person fainted at the mere sight of
him, so terrible was the effect. It was quite certain that he had foreseen
his fate, and that it had caused him the utmost horror. This, of course,
fitted in well enough with the police theory, if the colonel could have
seen his wife making a murderous attack upon him. Nor was the fact of the
wound being on the back of his head a fatal objection to this, as he might
have turned to avoid the blow. No information could be got from the lady
herself, who was temporarily insane from an acute attack of brain-fever.
"From the police I learned that Miss Morrison, who you remember went
out that evening with Mrs. Barclay, denied having any knowledge of what it
was which had caused the ill-humour in which her companion had returned.
"Having gathered these facts, Watson, I smoked several pipes over
them, trying to separate those which were crucial from others which were
merely incidental. There could be no question that the most distinctive
and suggestive point in the case was the singular disappearance of the
door-key. A most careful search had failed to discover it in the room.
Therefore it must have been taken from it. But neither the colonel nor the
colonel's wife could have taken it. That was perfectly clear. Therefore a
third person must have entered the room. And that third person could only
have come in through the window. It seemed to me that a careful
examination of the room and the lawn might possibly reveal some traces of
this mysterious individual. You know my methods, Watson. There was not one
of them which I did not apply to the inquiry. And it ended by my
discovering traces, but very different ones from those which I had
expected. There had been a man in the room, and he had crossed the lawn
coming from the road. I was able to obtain five very clear impressions of
his footmarks: one in the roadway itself, at the point where he had
climbed the low wall, two on the lawn, and two very faint ones upon the
stained boards near the window where he had entered. He had apparently
rushed across the lawn, for his toe-marks were much deeper than his heels.
But it was not the man who surprised me. It was his companion."
"His companion!"
Holmes pulled a large sheet of tissue-paper out of his pocket and
carefully unfolded it upon his knee.
"What do you make of that?" he asked.
The paper was covered with the tracings of the footmarks of some
small animal. It had five well-marked footpads, an indication of long
nails, and the whole print might be nearly as large as a dessert-spoon.
"It's a dog," said I.
"Did you ever hear of a dog running up a curtain? I found distinct
traces that this creature had done so."
"A monkey, then?"
"But it is not the print of a monkey."
"What can it be, then?"
"Neither dog nor cat nor monkey nor any creature that we are familiar
with. I have tried to reconstruct it from the measurements. Here are four
prints where the beast has been standing motionless. You see that it is no
less than fifteen inches from fore-foot to hind. Add to that the length of
neck and head, and you get a creature not much less than two feet long ––
probably more if there is any tail. But now observe this other
measurement. The animal has been moving, and we have the length of its
stride. In each case it is only about three inches. You have an
indication, you see, of a long body with very short legs attached to it.
It has not been considerate enough to leave any of its hair behind it. But
its general shape must be what I have indicated, and it can run up a
curtain. and it is carnivorous."
"How do you deduce that?"
"Because it ran up the curtain. A canary's cage was hanging in the
window, and its aim seems to have been to get at the bird."
"Then what was the beast?"
"Ah, if I could give it a name it might go a long way towards solving
the case. On the whole, it was probably some creature of the weasel and
stoat tribe –– and yet it is larger than any of these that I have seen."
"But what had it to do with the crime?"
"That, also, is still obscure. But we have learned a good deal, you
perceive. We know that a man stood in the road looking at the quarrcl
between the Barclays –– the blinds were up and the room lighted. We know,
also, that he ran across the lawn, entered the room, accompanied by a
strange animal, and that he either struck the colonel or, as is equally
possible, that the colonel fell down from sheer fright at the sight of
him, and cut his head on the corner of the fender. Finally we have the
curious fact that the intruder carried away the key with him when he
left."
"Your discoveries seem to have left the business more obscure than it
was before," said I.
"Quite so. They undoubtedly showed that the affair was much deeper
than was at first conjectured. I thought the matter over, and I came to
the conclusion that I must approach the case from another aspect. But
really, Watson, I am keeping you up, and I might just as well tell you all
this on our way to Aldershot to-morrow."
"Thank you, you have gone rather too far to stop."
"It is quite certain that when Mrs. Barclay left the house at
half-past seven she was on good terms with her husband. She was never, as
I think I have said, ostentatiously affectionate, but she was heard by the
coachman chatting with the colonel in a friendly fashion. Now, it was
equally certain that, immediately on her return, she had gone to the room
in which she was least likely to see her husband, had flown to tea as an
agitated woman will, and finally, on his coming in to her, had broken into
violent recriminations. Therefore something had occurred between
seven-thirty and nine o'clock which had completely altered her feelings
towards him. But Miss Morrison had been with her during the whole of that
hour and a half. It was absolutely certain, therefore, in spite of her
denial, that she must know something of the matter.
"My first conjecture was that possibly there had been some passages
between this young lady and the old soldier, which the former had now
confessed to the wife. That would account for the angry return, and also
for the girl's denial that anything had occurred. Nor would it be entirely
incompatible with most of the words overheard. But there was the reference
to David, and there was the known affection of the colonel for his wife to
weigh against it, to say nothing of the tragic intrusion of this other
man, which might, of course, be entirely disconnected with what had gone
before. It was not easy to pick one's steps, but, on the whole, I was
inclined to dismiss the idea that there had been anything between the
colonel and Miss Morrison, but more than ever convinced that the young
lady held the clue as to what it was which had turned Mrs. Barclay to
hatred of her husband. I took the obvious course, therefore, of calling
upon Miss M., of explaining to her that I was perfectly certain that she
held the facts in her possession, and of assuring her that her friend,
Mrs. Barclay, might find herself in the dock upon a capital charge unless
the matter were cleared up.
"Miss Morrison is a little ethereal slip of a girl, with timid eyes
and blond hair, but I found her by no means wanting in shrewdness and
common sense. She sat thinking for some time after I had spoken, and then,
turning to me with a brisk air of resolution, she broke into a remarkable
statement which I will condense for your benefit.
" 'I promised my friend that I would say nothing of the matter, and a
promise is a promise,' said she; 'but if I can really help her when so
serious a charge is laid against her, and when her own mouth, poor
darling, is closed by illness, then I think I am absolved from my promise.
I will tell you exactly what happened upon Monday evening.
" 'We were returning from the Watt Street Mission about a quarter to
nine o'clock. On our way we had to pass through Hudson Street, which is a
very quiet thoroughfare. There is only one lamp in it, upon the left-hand
side, and as we approached this lamp I saw a man coming towards us with
his back very bent, and something like a box slung over one of his
shoulders. He appeared to be deformed, for he carried his head low and
walked with his knees bent. We were passing him when he raised his face to
look at us in the circle of light thrown by the lamp, and as he did so he
stopped and screamed out in a dreadful voice, "My God, it's Nancy!" Mrs.
Barclay turned as white as death and would have fallen down had the
dreadful-looking creature not caught hold of her. I was going to call for
the police, but she, to my surprise, spoke quite civilly to the fellow.
" ' "I thought you had been dead this thirty years, Henry," said she
in a shaking voice.
" ' "So I have," said he, and it was awful to hear the tones that he
said it in. He had a very dark, fearsome face, and a gleam in his eyes
that comes back to me in my dreams. His hair and whiskers were shot with
gray, and his face was all crinkled and puckered like a withered apple.
" ' "Just walk on a little way, dear," said Mrs. Barclay; "I want to
have a word with this man. There is nothing to be afraid of." She tried to
speak boldly, but she was still deadly pale and could hardly get her words
out for the trembling of her lips.
" 'I did as she asked me, and they talked together for a few minutes.
Then she came down the street with her eyes blazing, and I saw the
crippled wretch standing by the lamp-post and shaking his clenched fists
in the air as if he were mad with rage. She never said a word until we
were at the door here, when she took me by the hand and begged me to tell
no one what had happened.
" ' "It's an old acquaintance of mine who has come down in the
world," said she. When I promised her I would say nothing she kissed me,
and I have never seen her since. I have told you now the whole truth, and
if I withheld it from the police it is because I did not realize then the
danger in which my dear friend stood. I know that it can only be to her
advantage that everything should be known.'
"There was her statement, Watson, and to me, as you can imagine, it
was like a light on a dark night. Everything which had been disconnected
before began at once to assume its true place, and I had a shadowy
presentiment of the whole sequence of events. My next step obviously was
to find the man who had produced such a remarkable impression upon Mrs.
Barclay. If he were still in Aldershot it should not be a very difficult
matter. There are not such a very great number of civilians, and a
deformed man was sure to have attracted attention. I spent a day in the
search, and by evening –– this very evening, Watson –– I had run him down.
The man's name is Henry Wood, and he lives in lodgings in this same street
in which the ladies met him. He has only been five days in the place. In
the character of a registration-agent I had a most interesting gossip with
his land-lady. The man is by trade a conjurer and performer, going round
the canteens after nightfall, and giving a little entertainment at each.
He carries some creature about with him in that box, about which the
landlady seemed to be in considerable trepidation, for she had never seen
an animal like it. He uses it in some of his tricks according to her
account. So much the woman was able to tell me, and also that it was a
wonder the man lived, seeing how twisted he was, and that he spoke in a
strange tongue sometimes, and that for the last two nights she had heard
him groaning and weeping in his bedroom. He was all right, as far as money
went, but in his deposit he had given her what looked like a bad florin.
She showed it to me, Watson, and it was an Indian rupee.
"So now, my dear fellow, you see exactly how we stand and why it is I
want you. It is perfectly plain that after the ladies parted from this man
he followed them at a distance, that he saw the quarrel between husband
and wife through the window, that he rushed in, and that the creature
which he carried in his box got loose. That is all very certain. But he is
the only person in this world who can tell us exactly what happened in
that room."
"And you intend to ask him?"
"Most certainly –– but in the presence of a witness."
"And I am the witness?"
"If you will be so good. If he can clear the matter up, well and
good. If he refuses, we have no alternative but to apply for a warrant."
"But how do you know he'll be there when we return?"
"You may be sure that I took some precautions. I have one of my Baker
Street boys mounting guard over him who would stick to him like a burr, go
where he might. We shall find him in Hudson Street to-morrow, Watson, and
meanwhile I should be the criminal myself if I kept you out of bed any
longer."
It was midday when we found ourselves at the scene of the tragedy,
and, under my companion's guidance, we made our way at once to Hudson
Street. In spite of his capacity for concealing his emotions, I could
easily see that Holmes was in a state of suppressed excitement, while I
was myself tingling with that half-sporting, half-intellectual pleasure
which I invariably experienced when I associated myself with him in his
investigations.
"This is the street," said he as we turned into a short thor-
oughfare lined with plain two-storied brick houses. "Ah, here is Simpson
to report."
"He's in all right, Mr. Holmes," cried a small street Arab, running
up to us.
"Good, Simpson!" said Holmes, patting him on the head. "Come along,
Watson. This is the house." He sent in his card with a message that he had
come on important business, and a moment later we were face to face with
the man whom we had come to see. In spite of the warm weather he was
crouching over a fire, and the little room was like an oven. The man sat
all twisted and huddled in his chair in a way which gave an inde-
scribable impression of deformity; but the face which he turned towards
us, though worn and swarthy, must at some time have been remarkable for
its beauty. He looked suspiciously at us now out of yellow-shot, bilious
eyes, and, without speaking or rising, he waved towards two chairs.
"Mr. Henry Wood, late of India, I believe," said Holmes affably.
"I've come over this little matter of Colonel Barclay's death."
"What should I know about that?"
"That's what I want to ascertain. You know, I suppose, that unless
the matter is cleared up, Mrs. Barclay, who is an old friend of yours,
will in all probability be tried for murder."
The man gave a violent start.
"I don't know who you are," he cried, "nor how you come to know what
you do know, but will you swear that this is true that you tell me?"
"Why, they are only waiting for her to come to her senses to arrest
her."
"My God! Are you in the police yourself?"
"No."
"What business is it of yours, then?"
"It's every man's business to see justice done."
"You can take my word that she is innocent."
"Then you are guilty."
"No, I am not."
"Who killed Colonel James Barclay, then?"
"It was a just Providence that killed him. But, mind you this, that
if I had knocked his brains out, as it was in my heart to do, he would
have had no more than his due from my hands. If his own guilty conscience
had not struck him down it is likely enough that I might have had his
blood upon my soul. You want me to tell the story. Well, I don't know why
I shouldn't, for there's no cause for me to be ashamed of it.
"It was in this way, sir. You see me now with my back like a camel
and my ribs all awry, but there was a time when Corporal Henry Wood was
the smartest man in the One Hundred and Seventeenth foot. We were in
India, then, in cantonments, at a place we'll call Bhurtee. Barclay, who
died the other day, was sergeant in the same company as myself, and the
belle of the regiment, ay, and the finest girl that ever had the breath of
life between her lips, was Nancy Devoy, the daughter of the colour-
sergeant. There were two men that loved her, and one that she loved, and
you'll smile when you look at this poor thing huddled before the fire and
hear me say that it was for my good looks that she loved me.
"Well, though I had her heart, her father was set upon her marrying
Barclay. I was a harum-scarum, reckless lad, and he had had an education
and was already marked for the sword-belt. But the girl held true to me,
and it seemed that I would have had her when the Mutiny broke out, and all
hell was loose in the country.
"We were shut up in Bhurtee, the regiment of us with half a battery
of artillery, a company of Sikhs, and a lot of civilians and women-folk.
There were ten thousand rebels round us, and they were as keen as a set of
terriers round a rat-cage. About the second week of it our water gave out,
and it was a question whether we could communicate with General Neill's
column, which was moving up-country. It was our only chance, for we could
not hope to fight our way out with all the women and children, so I
volunteered to go out and to warn General Neill of our danger. My offer
was accepted, and I talked it over with Sergeant Barclay, who was supposed
to know the ground better than any other man, and who drew up a route by
which I might get through the rebel lines. At ten o'clock the same night I
started off upon my journey. There were a thousand lives to save, but it
was of only one that I was thinking when I dropped over the wall that
night.
"My way ran down a dried-up watercourse, which we hoped would screen
me from the enemy's sentries; but as I crept round the corner of it I
walked right into six of them, who were crouching down in the dark waiting
for me. In an instant I was stunned with a blow and bound hand and foot.
But the real blow was to my heart and not to my head, for as I came to and
listened to as much as I could understand of their talk, I heard enough to
tell me that my comrade, the very man who had arranged the way I was to
take, had betrayed me by means of a native servant into the hands of the
enemy.
"Well, there's no need for me to dwell on that part of it. You know
now what James Barclay was capable of. Bhurtee was relieved by Neill next
day, but the rebels took me away with them in their retreat, and it was
many a long year before ever I saw a white face again. I was tortured and
tried to get away, and was captured and tortured again. You can see for
yourselves the state in which I was left. Some of them that fled into
Nepal took me with them, and then afterwards I was up past Darjeeling. The
hill-folk up there murdered the rebels who had me, and I became their
slave for a time until I escaped; but instead of going south I had to go
north, until I found myself among the Afghans. There I wandered about for
many a year, and at last came back to the Punjab, where I lived mostly
among the natives and picked up a living by the conjuring tricks that I
had learned. What use was it for me, a wretched cripple, to go back to
England or to make myself known to my old comrades? Even my wish for
revenge would not make me do that. I had rather that Nancy and my old pals
should think of Harry Wood as having died with a straight back, than see
him living and crawling with a stick like a chimpanzee. They never doubted
that I was dead, and I meant that they never should. I heard that Barclay
had married Nancy, and that he was rising rapidly in the regiment, but
even that did not make me speak.
"But when one gets old one has a longing for home. For years I've
been dreaming of the bright green fields and the hedges of England. At
last I determined to see them before I died. I saved enough to bring me
across, and then I came here where the soldiers are, for I know their ways
and how to amuse them and so earn enough to keep me."
"Your narrative is most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes. "I have
already heard of your meeting with Mrs. Barclay, and your mutual
recognition. You then, as I understand, followed her home and saw through
the window an altercation between her husband and her, in which she
doubtless cast his conduct to you in his teeth. Your own feelings overcame
you, and you ran across the lawn and broke in upon them."
"I did, sir, and at the sight of me he looked as I have never seen a
man look before, and over he went with his head on the fender. But he was
dead before he fell. I read death on his face as plain as I can read that
text over the fire. The bare sight of me was like a bullet through his
guilty heart."
"And then?"
"Then Nancy fainted, and I caught up the key of the door from her
hand, intending to unlock it and get help. But as I was doing it it seemed
to me better to leave it alone and get away, for the thing might look
black against me, and anyway my secret would be out if I were taken. In my
haste I thrust the key into my pocket, and dropped my stick while I was
chasing Teddy, who had run up the curtain. When I got him into his box,
from which he had slipped, I was off as fast as I could run."
"Who's Teddy?" asked Holmes.
The man leaned over and pulled up the front of a kind of hutch in the
corner. In an instant out there slipped a beautiful reddish-brown
creature, thin and lithe, with the legs of a stoat, a long, thin nose, and
a pair of the finest red eyes that ever I saw in an animal's head.
"It's a mongoose," I cried.
"Well, some call them that, and some call them ichneumon," said the
man. "Snake-catcher is what I call them, and Teddy is amazing quick on
cobras. I have one here without the fangs, and Teddy catches it every
night to please the folk in the canteen.
"Any other point, sir?"
"Well, we may have to apply to you again if Mrs. Barclay should prove
to be in serious trouble."
"In that case, of course, I'd come forward."
"But if not, there is no object in raking up this scandal against a
dead man, foully as he has acted. You have at least the satisfaction of
knowing that for thirty years of his life his conscience bitterly
reproached him for his wicked deed. Ah, there goes Major Murphy on the
other side of the street. Good-bye, Wood. I want to learn if anything has
happened since yesterday."
We were in time to overtake the major before he reached the corner.
"Ah, Holmes," he said, "I suppose you have heard that all this fuss
has come to nothing?"
"What then?"
"The }nquest is just over. The medical evidence showed conclusively
that death was due to apoplexy. You see it was quite a simple case. after
all."
"Oh, remarkably superficial," said Holmes, smiling. "Come, Watson, I
don't think we shall be wanted in Aldershot any more."
"There's one thing," said I as we walked down to the station. "If the
husband's name was James, and the other was Henry, what was this talk
about David?"
"That one word, my dear Watson, should have told me the whole story
had I been the ideal reasoner which you are so fond of depicting. It was
evidently a term of reproach."
"Of reproach?"
"Yes; David strayed a little occasionally, you know, and on one
occasion in the same direction as Sergeant James Barclay. You remember the
small affair of Uriah and Bathsheba? My Biblical knowledge is a trifle
rusty, I fear, but you will find the story in the first or second of Samuel."
