Of all the problems which have been
submitted to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, for solution
during the years of our intimacy, there were only
two which I was the means of introducing to his notice that
of Mr. Hatherley’s thumb, and that of Colonel
Warburton’s madness. Of these the latter
may have afforded a finer field for an acute and original
observer, but the other was so strange in its inception
and so dramatic in its details that it may be the
more worthy of being placed upon record, even if it
gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive methods
of reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable
results. The story has, I believe, been told
more than once in the newspapers, but, like all such
narratives, its effect is much less striking when
set forth en bloc in a single half-column of print
than when the facts slowly evolve before your own
eyes, and the mystery clears gradually away as each
new discovery furnishes a step which leads on to the
complete truth. At the time the circumstances
made a deep impression upon me, and the lapse of two
years has hardly served to weaken the effect.
It was in the summer of ’89,
not long after my marriage, that the events occurred
which I am now about to summarise. I had returned
to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes
in his Baker Street rooms, although I continually
visited him and occasionally even persuaded him to
forgo his Bohemian habits so far as to come and visit
us. My practice had steadily increased, and as
I happened to live at no very great distance from
Paddington Station, I got a few patients from among
the officials. One of these, whom I had cured
of a painful and lingering disease, was never weary
of advertising my virtues and of endeavouring to send
me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence.
One morning, at a little before seven
o’clock, I was awakened by the maid tapping
at the door to announce that two men had come from
Paddington and were waiting in the consulting-room.
I dressed hurriedly, for I knew by experience that
railway cases were seldom trivial, and hastened downstairs.
As I descended, my old ally, the guard, came out of
the room and closed the door tightly behind him.
“I’ve got him here,”
he whispered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder;
“he’s all right.”
“What is it, then?” I
asked, for his manner suggested that it was some strange
creature which he had caged up in my room.
“It’s a new patient,”
he whispered. “I thought I’d bring
him round myself; then he couldn’t slip away.
There he is, all safe and sound. I must go now,
Doctor; I have my dooties, just the same as you.”
And off he went, this trusty tout, without even giving
me time to thank him.
I entered my consulting-room and found
a gentleman seated by the table. He was quietly
dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a soft cloth
cap which he had laid down upon my books. Round
one of his hands he had a handkerchief wrapped, which
was mottled all over with bloodstains. He was
young, not more than five-and-twenty, I should say,
with a strong, masculine face; but he was exceedingly
pale and gave me the impression of a man who was suffering
from some strong agitation, which it took all his
strength of mind to control.
“I am sorry to knock you up
so early, Doctor,” said he, “but I have
had a very serious accident during the night.
I came in by train this morning, and on inquiring
at Paddington as to where I might find a doctor, a
worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here. I
gave the maid a card, but I see that she has left it
upon the side-table.”
I took it up and glanced at it.
“Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulic engineer, 16A,
Victoria Street (3rd floor).” That was the
name, style, and abode of my morning visitor.
“I regret that I have kept you waiting,”
said I, sitting down in my library-chair. “You
are fresh from a night journey, I understand, which
is in itself a monotonous occupation.”
“Oh, my night could not be called
monotonous,” said he, and laughed. He laughed
very heartily, with a high, ringing note, leaning
back in his chair and shaking his sides. All my
medical instincts rose up against that laugh.
“Stop it!” I cried; “pull
yourself together!” and I poured out some water
from a caraffe.
It was useless, however. He was
off in one of those hysterical outbursts which come
upon a strong nature when some great crisis is over
and gone. Presently he came to himself once more,
very weary and pale-looking.
“I have been making a fool of myself,”
he gasped.
“Not at all. Drink this.”
I dashed some brandy into the water, and the colour
began to come back to his bloodless cheeks.
“That’s better!”
said he. “And now, Doctor, perhaps you would
kindly attend to my thumb, or rather to the place where
my thumb used to be.”
He unwound the handkerchief and held
out his hand. It gave even my hardened nerves
a shudder to look at it. There were four protruding
fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface where the
thumb should have been. It had been hacked or
torn right out from the roots.
“Good heavens!” I cried,
“this is a terrible injury. It must have
bled considerably.”
“Yes, it did. I fainted
when it was done, and I think that I must have been
senseless for a long time. When I came to I found
that it was still bleeding, so I tied one end of my
handkerchief very tightly round the wrist and braced
it up with a twig.”
“Excellent! You should have been a surgeon.”
“It is a question of hydraulics,
you see, and came within my own province.”
“This has been done,”
said I, examining the wound, “by a very heavy
and sharp instrument.”
“A thing like a cleaver,” said he.
“An accident, I presume?”
“By no means.”
“What! a murderous attack?”
“Very murderous indeed.”
“You horrify me.”
I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed
it, and finally covered it over with cotton wadding
and carbolised bandages. He lay back without
wincing, though he bit his lip from time to time.
“How is that?” I asked when I had finished.
“Capital! Between your
brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man. I
was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through.”
“Perhaps you had better not
speak of the matter. It is evidently trying to
your nerves.”
“Oh, no, not now. I shall
have to tell my tale to the police; but, between ourselves,
if it were not for the convincing evidence of this
wound of mine, I should be surprised if they believed
my statement, for it is a very extraordinary one, and
I have not much in the way of proof with which to
back it up; and, even if they believe me, the clues
which I can give them are so vague that it is a question
whether justice will be done.”
“Ha!” cried I, “if
it is anything in the nature of a problem which you
desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you
to come to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, before you
go to the official police.”
“Oh, I have heard of that fellow,”
answered my visitor, “and I should be very glad
if he would take the matter up, though of course I
must use the official police as well. Would you
give me an introduction to him?”
“I’ll do better. I’ll take
you round to him myself.”
“I should be immensely obliged to you.”
“We’ll call a cab and
go together. We shall just be in time to have
a little breakfast with him. Do you feel equal
to it?”
“Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told
my story.”
“Then my servant will call a
cab, and I shall be with you in an instant.”
I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to
my wife, and in five minutes was inside a hansom,
driving with my new acquaintance to Baker Street.
Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected,
lounging about his sitting-room in his dressing-gown,
reading the agony column of The Times and smoking
his before-breakfast pipe, which was composed of all
the plugs and dottles left from his smokes of the day
before, all carefully dried and collected on the corner
of the mantelpiece. He received us in his quietly
genial fashion, ordered fresh rashers and eggs, and
joined us in a hearty meal. When it was concluded
he settled our new acquaintance upon the sofa, placed
a pillow beneath his head, and laid a glass of brandy
and water within his reach.
“It is easy to see that your
experience has been no common one, Mr. Hatherley,”
said he. “Pray, lie down there and make
yourself absolutely at home. Tell us what you
can, but stop when you are tired and keep up your
strength with a little stimulant.”
“Thank you,” said my patient.
“but I have felt another man since the doctor
bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has completed
the cure. I shall take up as little of your valuable
time as possible, so I shall start at once upon my
peculiar experiences.”
Holmes sat in his big armchair with
the weary, heavy-lidded expression which veiled his
keen and eager nature, while I sat opposite to him,
and we listened in silence to the strange story which
our visitor detailed to us.
“You must know,” said
he, “that I am an orphan and a bachelor, residing
alone in lodgings in London. By profession I am
a hydraulic engineer, and I have had considerable
experience of my work during the seven years that
I was apprenticed to Venner & Matheson, the well-known
firm, of Greenwich. Two years ago, having served
my time, and having also come into a fair sum of money
through my poor father’s death, I determined
to start in business for myself and took professional
chambers in Victoria Street.
“I suppose that everyone finds
his first independent start in business a dreary experience.
To me it has been exceptionally so. During two
years I have had three consultations and one small
job, and that is absolutely all that my profession
has brought me. My gross takings amount to 27
pounds 10s. Every day, from nine in the morning
until four in the afternoon, I waited in my little
den, until at last my heart began to sink, and I came
to believe that I should never have any practice at
all.
“Yesterday, however, just as
I was thinking of leaving the office, my clerk entered
to say there was a gentleman waiting who wished to
see me upon business. He brought up a card, too,
with the name of ‘Colonel Lysander Stark’
engraved upon it. Close at his heels came the
colonel himself, a man rather over the middle size,
but of an exceeding thinness. I do not think that
I have ever seen so thin a man. His whole face
sharpened away into nose and chin, and the skin of
his cheeks was drawn quite tense over his outstanding
bones. Yet this emaciation seemed to be his natural
habit, and due to no disease, for his eye was bright,
his step brisk, and his bearing assured. He was
plainly but neatly dressed, and his age, I should
judge, would be nearer forty than thirty.
“‘Mr. Hatherley?’
said he, with something of a German accent. ’You
have been recommended to me, Mr. Hatherley, as being
a man who is not only proficient in his profession
but is also discreet and capable of preserving a secret.’
“I bowed, feeling as flattered
as any young man would at such an address. ‘May
I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?’
“’Well, perhaps it is
better that I should not tell you that just at this
moment. I have it from the same source that you
are both an orphan and a bachelor and are residing
alone in London.’
“‘That is quite correct,’
I answered; ’but you will excuse me if I say
that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional
qualifications. I understand that it was on a
professional matter that you wished to speak to me?’
“’Undoubtedly so.
But you will find that all I say is really to the
point. I have a professional commission for you,
but absolute secrecy is quite essential absolute
secrecy, you understand, and of course we may expect
that more from a man who is alone than from one who
lives in the bosom of his family.’
“‘If I promise to keep
a secret,’ said I, ’you may absolutely
depend upon my doing so.’
“He looked very hard at me as
I spoke, and it seemed to me that I had never seen
so suspicious and questioning an eye.
“‘Do you promise, then?’ said he
at last.
“‘Yes, I promise.’
“’Absolute and complete
silence before, during, and after? No reference
to the matter at all, either in word or writing?’
“‘I have already given you my word.’
“‘Very good.’
He suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning
across the room he flung open the door. The passage
outside was empty.
“‘That’s all right,’
said he, coming back. ’I know that clerks
are sometimes curious as to their master’s affairs.
Now we can talk in safety.’ He drew up
his chair very close to mine and began to stare at
me again with the same questioning and thoughtful look.
“A feeling of repulsion, and
of something akin to fear had begun to rise within
me at the strange antics of this fleshless man.
Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain
me from showing my impatience.
“‘I beg that you will
state your business, sir,’ said I; ’my
time is of value.’ Heaven forgive me for
that last sentence, but the words came to my lips.
“‘How would fifty guineas
for a night’s work suit you?’ he asked.
“‘Most admirably.’
“’I say a night’s
work, but an hour’s would be nearer the mark.
I simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping
machine which has got out of gear. If you show
us what is wrong we shall soon set it right ourselves.
What do you think of such a commission as that?’
“‘The work appears to
be light and the pay munificent.’
“’Precisely so. We
shall want you to come to-night by the last train.’
“‘Where to?’
“’To Eyford, in Berkshire.
It is a little place near the borders of Oxfordshire,
and within seven miles of Reading. There is a
train from Paddington which would bring you there at
about 11:15.’
“‘Very good.’
“‘I shall come down in a carriage to meet
you.’
“‘There is a drive, then?’
“’Yes, our little place
is quite out in the country. It is a good seven
miles from Eyford Station.’
“’Then we can hardly get
there before midnight. I suppose there would
be no chance of a train back. I should be compelled
to stop the night.’
“‘Yes, we could easily give you a shake-down.’
“’That is very awkward.
Could I not come at some more convenient hour?’
“’We have judged it best
that you should come late. It is to recompense
you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you,
a young and unknown man, a fee which would buy an
opinion from the very heads of your profession.
Still, of course, if you would like to draw out of
the business, there is plenty of time to do so.’
“I thought of the fifty guineas,
and of how very useful they would be to me. ‘Not
at all,’ said I, ’I shall be very happy
to accommodate myself to your wishes. I should
like, however, to understand a little more clearly
what it is that you wish me to do.’
“’Quite so. It is
very natural that the pledge of secrecy which we have
exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity.
I have no wish to commit you to anything without your
having it all laid before you. I suppose that
we are absolutely safe from eavesdroppers?’
“‘Entirely.’
“’Then the matter stands
thus. You are probably aware that fuller’s-earth
is a valuable product, and that it is only found in
one or two places in England?’
“‘I have heard so.’
“’Some little time ago
I bought a small place a very small place within
ten miles of Reading. I was fortunate enough to
discover that there was a deposit of fuller’s-earth
in one of my fields. On examining it, however,
I found that this deposit was a comparatively small
one, and that it formed a link between two very much
larger ones upon the right and left both
of them, however, in the grounds of my neighbours.
These good people were absolutely ignorant that their
land contained that which was quite as valuable as
a gold-mine. Naturally, it was to my interest
to buy their land before they discovered its true value,
but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could
do this. I took a few of my friends into the
secret, however, and they suggested that we should
quietly and secretly work our own little deposit and
that in this way we should earn the money which would
enable us to buy the neighbouring fields. This
we have now been doing for some time, and in order
to help us in our operations we erected a hydraulic
press. This press, as I have already explained,
has got out of order, and we wish your advice upon
the subject. We guard our secret very jealously,
however, and if it once became known that we had hydraulic
engineers coming to our little house, it would soon
rouse inquiry, and then, if the facts came out, it
would be good-bye to any chance of getting these fields
and carrying out our plans. That is why I have
made you promise me that you will not tell a human
being that you are going to Eyford to-night.
I hope that I make it all plain?’
“‘I quite follow you,’
said I. ’The only point which I could not
quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic
press in excavating fuller’s-earth, which, as
I understand, is dug out like gravel from a pit.’
“‘Ah!’ said he carelessly,
’we have our own process. We compress the
earth into bricks, so as to remove them without revealing
what they are. But that is a mere detail.
I have taken you fully into my confidence now, Mr.
Hatherley, and I have shown you how I trust you.’
He rose as he spoke. ’I shall expect you,
then, at Eyford at 11:15.’
“‘I shall certainly be there.’
“‘And not a word to a
soul.’ He looked at me with a last long,
questioning gaze, and then, pressing my hand in a cold,
dank grasp, he hurried from the room.
“Well, when I came to think
it all over in cool blood I was very much astonished,
as you may both think, at this sudden commission which
had been intrusted to me. On the one hand, of
course, I was glad, for the fee was at least tenfold
what I should have asked had I set a price upon my
own services, and it was possible that this order
might lead to other ones. On the other hand, the
face and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant
impression upon me, and I could not think that his
explanation of the fuller’s-earth was sufficient
to explain the necessity for my coming at midnight,
and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell anyone
of my errand. However, I threw all fears to the
winds, ate a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and
started off, having obeyed to the letter the injunction
as to holding my tongue.
“At Reading I had to change
not only my carriage but my station. However,
I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I
reached the little dim-lit station after eleven o’clock.
I was the only passenger who got out there, and there
was no one upon the platform save a single sleepy
porter with a lantern. As I passed out through
the wicket gate, however, I found my acquaintance of
the morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side.
Without a word he grasped my arm and hurried me into
a carriage, the door of which was standing open.
He drew up the windows on either side, tapped on the
wood-work, and away we went as fast as the horse could
go.”
“One horse?” interjected Holmes.
“Yes, only one.”
“Did you observe the colour?”
“Yes, I saw it by the side-lights
when I was stepping into the carriage. It was
a chestnut.”
“Tired-looking or fresh?”
“Oh, fresh and glossy.”
“Thank you. I am sorry
to have interrupted you. Pray continue your most
interesting statement.”
“Away we went then, and we drove
for at least an hour. Colonel Lysander Stark
had said that it was only seven miles, but I should
think, from the rate that we seemed to go, and from
the time that we took, that it must have been nearer
twelve. He sat at my side in silence all the
time, and I was aware, more than once when I glanced
in his direction, that he was looking at me with great
intensity. The country roads seem to be not very
good in that part of the world, for we lurched and
jolted terribly. I tried to look out of the windows
to see something of where we were, but they were made
of frosted glass, and I could make out nothing save
the occasional bright blur of a passing light.
Now and then I hazarded some remark to break the monotony
of the journey, but the colonel answered only in monosyllables,
and the conversation soon flagged. At last, however,
the bumping of the road was exchanged for the crisp
smoothness of a gravel-drive, and the carriage came
to a stand. Colonel Lysander Stark sprang out,
and, as I followed after him, pulled me swiftly into
a porch which gaped in front of us. We stepped,
as it were, right out of the carriage and into the
hall, so that I failed to catch the most fleeting
glance of the front of the house. The instant
that I had crossed the threshold the door slammed
heavily behind us, and I heard faintly the rattle
of the wheels as the carriage drove away.
“It was pitch dark inside the
house, and the colonel fumbled about looking for matches
and muttering under his breath. Suddenly a door
opened at the other end of the passage, and a long,
golden bar of light shot out in our direction.
It grew broader, and a woman appeared with a lamp
in her hand, which she held above her head, pushing
her face forward and peering at us. I could see
that she was pretty, and from the gloss with which
the light shone upon her dark dress I knew that it
was a rich material. She spoke a few words in
a foreign tongue in a tone as though asking a question,
and when my companion answered in a gruff monosyllable
she gave such a start that the lamp nearly fell from
her hand. Colonel Stark went up to her, whispered
something in her ear, and then, pushing her back into
the room from whence she had come, he walked towards
me again with the lamp in his hand.
“’Perhaps you will have
the kindness to wait in this room for a few minutes,’
said he, throwing open another door. It was a
quiet, little, plainly furnished room, with a round
table in the centre, on which several German books
were scattered. Colonel Stark laid down the lamp
on the top of a harmonium beside the door. ‘I
shall not keep you waiting an instant,’ said
he, and vanished into the darkness.
“I glanced at the books upon
the table, and in spite of my ignorance of German
I could see that two of them were treatises on science,
the others being volumes of poetry. Then I walked
across to the window, hoping that I might catch some
glimpse of the country-side, but an oak shutter, heavily
barred, was folded across it. It was a wonderfully
silent house. There was an old clock ticking
loudly somewhere in the passage, but otherwise everything
was deadly still. A vague feeling of uneasiness
began to steal over me. Who were these German
people, and what were they doing living in this strange,
out-of-the-way place? And where was the place?
I was ten miles or so from Eyford, that was all I
knew, but whether north, south, east, or west I had
no idea. For that matter, Reading, and possibly
other large towns, were within that radius, so the
place might not be so secluded, after all. Yet
it was quite certain, from the absolute stillness,
that we were in the country. I paced up and down
the room, humming a tune under my breath to keep up
my spirits and feeling that I was thoroughly earning
my fifty-guinea fee.
“Suddenly, without any preliminary
sound in the midst of the utter stillness, the door
of my room swung slowly open. The woman was standing
in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind her,
the yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager
and beautiful face. I could see at a glance that
she was sick with fear, and the sight sent a chill
to my own heart. She held up one shaking finger
to warn me to be silent, and she shot a few whispered
words of broken English at me, her eyes glancing back,
like those of a frightened horse, into the gloom behind
her.
“‘I would go,’ said
she, trying hard, as it seemed to me, to speak calmly;
’I would go. I should not stay here.
There is no good for you to do.’
“‘But, madam,’ said
I, ’I have not yet done what I came for.
I cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine.’
“‘It is not worth your
while to wait,’ she went on. ’You
can pass through the door; no one hinders.’
And then, seeing that I smiled and shook my head,
she suddenly threw aside her constraint and made a
step forward, with her hands wrung together. ’For
the love of Heaven!’ she whispered, ’get
away from here before it is too late!’
“But I am somewhat headstrong
by nature, and the more ready to engage in an affair
when there is some obstacle in the way. I thought
of my fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and
of the unpleasant night which seemed to be before
me. Was it all to go for nothing? Why should
I slink away without having carried out my commission,
and without the payment which was my due? This
woman might, for all I knew, be a monomaniac.
With a stout bearing, therefore, though her manner
had shaken me more than I cared to confess, I still
shook my head and declared my intention of remaining
where I was. She was about to renew her entreaties
when a door slammed overhead, and the sound of several
footsteps was heard upon the stairs. She listened
for an instant, threw up her hands with a despairing
gesture, and vanished as suddenly and as noiselessly
as she had come.
“The newcomers were Colonel
Lysander Stark and a short thick man with a chinchilla
beard growing out of the creases of his double chin,
who was introduced to me as Mr. Ferguson.
“‘This is my secretary
and manager,’ said the colonel. ’By
the way, I was under the impression that I left this
door shut just now. I fear that you have felt
the draught.’
“‘On the contrary,’
said I, ’I opened the door myself because I
felt the room to be a little close.’
“He shot one of his suspicious
looks at me. ’Perhaps we had better proceed
to business, then,’ said he. ’Mr.
Ferguson and I will take you up to see the machine.’
“‘I had better put my hat on, I suppose.’
“‘Oh, no, it is in the house.’
“‘What, you dig fuller’s-earth in
the house?’
“’No, no. This is
only where we compress it. But never mind that.
All we wish you to do is to examine the machine and
to let us know what is wrong with it.’
“We went upstairs together,
the colonel first with the lamp, the fat manager and
I behind him. It was a labyrinth of an old house,
with corridors, passages, narrow winding staircases,
and little low doors, the thresholds of which were
hollowed out by the generations who had crossed them.
There were no carpets and no signs of any furniture
above the ground floor, while the plaster was peeling
off the walls, and the damp was breaking through in
green, unhealthy blotches. I tried to put on as
unconcerned an air as possible, but I had not forgotten
the warnings of the lady, even though I disregarded
them, and I kept a keen eye upon my two companions.
Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent man, but
I could see from the little that he said that he was
at least a fellow-countryman.
“Colonel Lysander Stark stopped
at last before a low door, which he unlocked.
Within was a small, square room, in which the three
of us could hardly get at one time. Ferguson remained
outside, and the colonel ushered me in.
“‘We are now,’ said
he, ’actually within the hydraulic press, and
it would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us
if anyone were to turn it on. The ceiling of
this small chamber is really the end of the descending
piston, and it comes down with the force of many tons
upon this metal floor. There are small lateral
columns of water outside which receive the force,
and which transmit and multiply it in the manner which
is familiar to you. The machine goes readily
enough, but there is some stiffness in the working
of it, and it has lost a little of its force.
Perhaps you will have the goodness to look it over
and to show us how we can set it right.’
“I took the lamp from him, and
I examined the machine very thoroughly. It was
indeed a gigantic one, and capable of exercising enormous
pressure. When I passed outside, however, and
pressed down the levers which controlled it, I knew
at once by the whishing sound that there was a slight
leakage, which allowed a regurgitation of water through
one of the side cylinders. An examination showed
that one of the india-rubber bands which was round
the head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not quite
to fill the socket along which it worked. This
was clearly the cause of the loss of power, and I
pointed it out to my companions, who followed my remarks
very carefully and asked several practical questions
as to how they should proceed to set it right.
When I had made it clear to them, I returned to the
main chamber of the machine and took a good look at
it to satisfy my own curiosity. It was obvious
at a glance that the story of the fuller’s-earth
was the merest fabrication, for it would be absurd
to suppose that so powerful an engine could be designed
for so inadequate a purpose. The walls were of
wood, but the floor consisted of a large iron trough,
and when I came to examine it I could see a crust
of metallic deposit all over it. I had stooped
and was scraping at this to see exactly what it was
when I heard a muttered exclamation in German and
saw the cadaverous face of the colonel looking down
at me.
“‘What are you doing there?’ he
asked.
“I felt angry at having been
tricked by so elaborate a story as that which he had
told me. ‘I was admiring your fuller’s-earth,’
said I; ’I think that I should be better able
to advise you as to your machine if I knew what the
exact purpose was for which it was used.’
“The instant that I uttered
the words I regretted the rashness of my speech.
His face set hard, and a baleful light sprang up in
his grey eyes.
“‘Very well,’ said
he, ‘you shall know all about the machine.’
He took a step backward, slammed the little door,
and turned the key in the lock. I rushed towards
it and pulled at the handle, but it was quite secure,
and did not give in the least to my kicks and shoves.
‘Hullo!’ I yelled. ‘Hullo!
Colonel! Let me out!’
“And then suddenly in the silence
I heard a sound which sent my heart into my mouth.
It was the clank of the levers and the swish of the
leaking cylinder. He had set the engine at work.
The lamp still stood upon the floor where I had placed
it when examining the trough. By its light I
saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me,
slowly, jerkily, but, as none knew better than myself,
with a force which must within a minute grind me to
a shapeless pulp. I threw myself, screaming,
against the door, and dragged with my nails at the
lock. I implored the colonel to let me out, but
the remorseless clanking of the levers drowned my
cries. The ceiling was only a foot or two above
my head, and with my hand upraised I could feel its
hard, rough surface. Then it flashed through
my mind that the pain of my death would depend very
much upon the position in which I met it. If I
lay on my face the weight would come upon my spine,
and I shuddered to think of that dreadful snap.
Easier the other way, perhaps; and yet, had I the
nerve to lie and look up at that deadly black shadow
wavering down upon me? Already I was unable to
stand erect, when my eye caught something which brought
a gush of hope back to my heart.
“I have said that though the
floor and ceiling were of iron, the walls were of
wood. As I gave a last hurried glance around,
I saw a thin line of yellow light between two of the
boards, which broadened and broadened as a small panel
was pushed backward. For an instant I could hardly
believe that here was indeed a door which led away
from death. The next instant I threw myself through,
and lay half-fainting upon the other side. The
panel had closed again behind me, but the crash of
the lamp, and a few moments afterwards the clang of
the two slabs of metal, told me how narrow had been
my escape.
“I was recalled to myself by
a frantic plucking at my wrist, and I found myself
lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, while
a woman bent over me and tugged at me with her left
hand, while she held a candle in her right. It
was the same good friend whose warning I had so foolishly
rejected.
“‘Come! come!’ she
cried breathlessly. ’They will be here in
a moment. They will see that you are not there.
Oh, do not waste the so-precious time, but come!’
“This time, at least, I did
not scorn her advice. I staggered to my feet
and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding
stair. The latter led to another broad passage,
and just as we reached it we heard the sound of running
feet and the shouting of two voices, one answering
the other from the floor on which we were and from
the one beneath. My guide stopped and looked about
her like one who is at her wit’s end. Then
she threw open a door which led into a bedroom, through
the window of which the moon was shining brightly.
“‘It is your only chance,’
said she. ’It is high, but it may be that
you can jump it.’
“As she spoke a light sprang
into view at the further end of the passage, and I
saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark rushing
forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like
a butcher’s cleaver in the other. I rushed
across the bedroom, flung open the window, and looked
out. How quiet and sweet and wholesome the garden
looked in the moonlight, and it could not be more
than thirty feet down. I clambered out upon the
sill, but I hesitated to jump until I should have
heard what passed between my saviour and the ruffian
who pursued me. If she were ill-used, then at
any risks I was determined to go back to her assistance.
The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before
he was at the door, pushing his way past her; but
she threw her arms round him and tried to hold him
back.
“‘Fritz! Fritz!’
she cried in English, ’remember your promise
after the last time. You said it should not be
again. He will be silent! Oh, he will be
silent!’
“‘You are mad, Elise!’
he shouted, struggling to break away from her.
’You will be the ruin of us. He has seen
too much. Let me pass, I say!’ He dashed
her to one side, and, rushing to the window, cut at
me with his heavy weapon. I had let myself go,
and was hanging by the hands to the sill, when his
blow fell. I was conscious of a dull pain, my
grip loosened, and I fell into the garden below.
“I was shaken but not hurt by
the fall; so I picked myself up and rushed off among
the bushes as hard as I could run, for I understood
that I was far from being out of danger yet. Suddenly,
however, as I ran, a deadly dizziness and sickness
came over me. I glanced down at my hand, which
was throbbing painfully, and then, for the first time,
saw that my thumb had been cut off and that the blood
was pouring from my wound. I endeavoured to tie
my handkerchief round it, but there came a sudden
buzzing in my ears, and next moment I fell in a dead
faint among the rose-bushes.
“How long I remained unconscious
I cannot tell. It must have been a very long
time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning was
breaking when I came to myself. My clothes were
all sodden with dew, and my coat-sleeve was drenched
with blood from my wounded thumb. The smarting
of it recalled in an instant all the particulars of
my night’s adventure, and I sprang to my feet
with the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from
my pursuers. But to my astonishment, when I came
to look round me, neither house nor garden were to
be seen. I had been lying in an angle of the
hedge close by the highroad, and just a little lower
down was a long building, which proved, upon my approaching
it, to be the very station at which I had arrived
upon the previous night. Were it not for the
ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed during
those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream.
“Half dazed, I went into the
station and asked about the morning train. There
would be one to Reading in less than an hour.
The same porter was on duty, I found, as had been
there when I arrived. I inquired of him whether
he had ever heard of Colonel Lysander Stark.
The name was strange to him. Had he observed a
carriage the night before waiting for me? No,
he had not. Was there a police-station anywhere
near? There was one about three miles off.
“It was too far for me to go,
weak and ill as I was. I determined to wait until
I got back to town before telling my story to the
police. It was a little past six when I arrived,
so I went first to have my wound dressed, and then
the doctor was kind enough to bring me along here.
I put the case into your hands and shall do exactly
what you advise.”
We both sat in silence for some little
time after listening to this extraordinary narrative.
Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf one
of the ponderous commonplace books in which he placed
his cuttings.
“Here is an advertisement which
will interest you,” said he. “It
appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen
to this: ’Lost, on the 9th inst., Mr. Jeremiah
Hayling, aged twenty-six, a hydraulic engineer.
Left his lodgings at ten o’clock at night, and
has not been heard of since. Was dressed in,’
etc., etc. Ha! That represents
the last time that the colonel needed to have his
machine overhauled, I fancy.”
“Good heavens!” cried
my patient. “Then that explains what the
girl said.”
“Undoubtedly. It is quite
clear that the colonel was a cool and desperate man,
who was absolutely determined that nothing should
stand in the way of his little game, like those out-and-out
pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured
ship. Well, every moment now is precious, so
if you feel equal to it we shall go down to Scotland
Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for Eyford.”
Some three hours or so afterwards
we were all in the train together, bound from Reading
to the little Berkshire village. There were Sherlock
Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Inspector Bradstreet,
of Scotland Yard, a plain-clothes man, and myself.
Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county
out upon the seat and was busy with his compasses
drawing a circle with Eyford for its centre.
“There you are,” said
he. “That circle is drawn at a radius of
ten miles from the village. The place we want
must be somewhere near that line. You said ten
miles, I think, sir.”
“It was an hour’s good drive.”
“And you think that they brought
you back all that way when you were unconscious?”
“They must have done so.
I have a confused memory, too, of having been lifted
and conveyed somewhere.”
“What I cannot understand,”
said I, “is why they should have spared you
when they found you lying fainting in the garden.
Perhaps the villain was softened by the woman’s
entreaties.”
“I hardly think that likely.
I never saw a more inexorable face in my life.”
“Oh, we shall soon clear up
all that,” said Bradstreet. “Well,
I have drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at
what point upon it the folk that we are in search
of are to be found.”
“I think I could lay my finger
on it,” said Holmes quietly.
“Really, now!” cried the
inspector, “you have formed your opinion!
Come, now, we shall see who agrees with you. I
say it is south, for the country is more deserted
there.”
“And I say east,” said my patient.
“I am for west,” remarked
the plain-clothes man. “There are several
quiet little villages up there.”
“And I am for north,”
said I, “because there are no hills there, and
our friend says that he did not notice the carriage
go up any.”
“Come,” cried the inspector,
laughing; “it’s a very pretty diversity
of opinion. We have boxed the compass among us.
Who do you give your casting vote to?”
“You are all wrong.”
“But we can’t all be.”
“Oh, yes, you can. This
is my point.” He placed his finger in the
centre of the circle. “This is where we
shall find them.”
“But the twelve-mile drive?” gasped Hatherley.
“Six out and six back.
Nothing simpler. You say yourself that the horse
was fresh and glossy when you got in. How could
it be that if it had gone twelve miles over heavy
roads?”
“Indeed, it is a likely ruse
enough,” observed Bradstreet thoughtfully.
“Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature
of this gang.”
“None at all,” said Holmes.
“They are coiners on a large scale, and have
used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken
the place of silver.”
“We have known for some time
that a clever gang was at work,” said the inspector.
“They have been turning out half-crowns by the
thousand. We even traced them as far as Reading,
but could get no farther, for they had covered their
traces in a way that showed that they were very old
hands. But now, thanks to this lucky chance,
I think that we have got them right enough.”
But the inspector was mistaken, for
those criminals were not destined to fall into the
hands of justice. As we rolled into Eyford Station
we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed up
from behind a small clump of trees in the neighbourhood
and hung like an immense ostrich feather over the
landscape.
“A house on fire?” asked
Bradstreet as the train steamed off again on its way.
“Yes, sir!” said the station-master.
“When did it break out?”
“I hear that it was during the
night, sir, but it has got worse, and the whole place
is in a blaze.”
“Whose house is it?”
“Dr. Becher’s.”
“Tell me,” broke in the
engineer, “is Dr. Becher a German, very thin,
with a long, sharp nose?”
The station-master laughed heartily.
“No, sir, Dr. Becher is an Englishman, and there
isn’t a man in the parish who has a better-lined
waistcoat. But he has a gentleman staying with
him, a patient, as I understand, who is a foreigner,
and he looks as if a little good Berkshire beef would
do him no harm.”
The station-master had not finished
his speech before we were all hastening in the direction
of the fire. The road topped a low hill, and
there was a great widespread whitewashed building in
front of us, spouting fire at every chink and window,
while in the garden in front three fire-engines were
vainly striving to keep the flames under.
“That’s it!” cried
Hatherley, in intense excitement. “There
is the gravel-drive, and there are the rose-bushes
where I lay. That second window is the one that
I jumped from.”
“Well, at least,” said
Holmes, “you have had your revenge upon them.
There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp
which, when it was crushed in the press, set fire
to the wooden walls, though no doubt they were too
excited in the chase after you to observe it at the
time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for
your friends of last night, though I very much fear
that they are a good hundred miles off by now.”
And Holmes’ fears came to be
realised, for from that day to this no word has ever
been heard either of the beautiful woman, the sinister
German, or the morose Englishman. Early that morning
a peasant had met a cart containing several people
and some very bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction
of Reading, but there all traces of the fugitives
disappeared, and even Holmes’ ingenuity failed
ever to discover the least clue as to their whereabouts.
The firemen had been much perturbed
at the strange arrangements which they had found within,
and still more so by discovering a newly severed human
thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor.
About sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful,
and they subdued the flames, but not before the roof
had fallen in, and the whole place been reduced to
such absolute ruin that, save some twisted cylinders
and iron piping, not a trace remained of the machinery
which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so dearly.
Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered stored
in an out-house, but no coins were to be found, which
may have explained the presence of those bulky boxes
which have been already referred to.
How our hydraulic engineer had been
conveyed from the garden to the spot where he recovered
his senses might have remained forever a mystery were
it not for the soft mould, which told us a very plain
tale. He had evidently been carried down by two
persons, one of whom had remarkably small feet and
the other unusually large ones. On the whole,
it was most probable that the silent Englishman, being
less bold or less murderous than his companion, had
assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man out
of the way of danger.
“Well,” said our engineer
ruefully as we took our seats to return once more
to London, “it has been a pretty business for
me! I have lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea
fee, and what have I gained?”
“Experience,” said Holmes,
laughing. “Indirectly it may be of value,
you know; you have only to put it into words to gain
the reputation of being excellent company for the
remainder of your existence.”