A professional case of great gravity was engaging my ownattention at the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at thebedside of the sufferer.
It was not until close upon six o'clockthat I found myself free and was able to spring into a hansomand drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be too late toassist at the denouement of the little mystery.
I found SherlockHolmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin formcurled up in the recesses of his armchair.
A formidable array ofbottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydro-chloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemicalwork which was so dear to him.
"Well, have you solved it?" I asked as I entered.
"Yes.
It was the bisulphate of baryta." "No, no, the mystery!" I cried.
"Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon.There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I saidyesterday, some of the details are of interest.
The only drawbackis that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel." "Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting MissSutherland?" The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes hadnot yet opened his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfallin the passage and a tap at the door.
"This is the girl's stepfather, Mr.
James Windibank," saidHolmes.
"He has written to me to say that he would be here atsix.
Come in!" The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, somethirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with abland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp andpenetrating gray eyes.
He shot a questioning glance at each ofus, placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a slightbow sidled down into the nearest chair.
"Good-evening, Mr.
James Windibank," said Holmes.
"Ithink that this typewritten letter is from you, in which you madean appointment with me for six o'clock?" "Yes, sir.
I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quitemy own master, you know.
I am sorry that Miss Sutherland hastroubled you about this little matter, for I think it is far better notto wash linen of the sort in public.
It was quite against mywishes that she came, but she is a very excitable, impulsive girl,as you may have noticed, and she is not easily controlled whenshe has made up her mind on a point.
Of course, I did not mindyou so much, as you are not connected with the official police,but it is not pleasant to have a family misfortune like this noisedabroad.
Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could youpossibly find this Hosmer Angel?" "On the contrary," said Holmes quietly; "I have every reasonto believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr.
Hosmer Angel." Mr.
Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves.
"Iam delighted to hear it," he said.
"It is a curious thing," remarked Holmes, "that a typewriterhas really quite as much individuality as a man's handwriting.Unless they are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike.Some letters get more worn than others, and some wear only onone side.
Now, you remark in this note of yours, Mr.
Windibank,that in every case there is some little slurring over of the 'e,' anda slight defect in the tail of the 'r.' There are fourteen othercharacteristics, but those are the more obvious." "We do all our correspondence with this machine at theoffice, and no doubt it is a little worn," our visitor answered.glancing keenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes.
"And now I will show you what is really a very interestingstudy, Mr.
Windibank," Holmes continued.
"I think of writinganother little monograph some of these days on the typewriterand its relation to crime.
It is a subject to which I have devotedsome little attention.
I have here four letters which purport tocome from the missing man.
They are all typewritten.
In eachcase, not only are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's' tailless, but youwill observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that thefourteen other characteristics to which I have alluded are there aswell." Mr.
Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat."I cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr.
Holmes,"he said.
"If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me knowwhen you have done it." "Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the keyin the door.
"I let you know, then, that I have caught him!" "What! where?" shouted Mr.
Windibank, turning white to hislips and glancing about him like a rat in a trap.
"Oh, it won't do --really it won't," said Holmes suavely."There is no possible getting out of it, Mr.
Windibank.
It isquite too transparent, and it was a very bad compliment whenyou said that it was impossible for me to solve so simple aquestion.
That's right! Sit down and let us talk it over." Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and aglitter of moisture on his brow.
"It --it's not actionable," hestammered.
"I am very much afraid that it is not.
But between ourselves,Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in apetty way as ever came before me.
Now, let me just run over thecourse of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong." The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk uponhis breast, like one who is utterly crushed.
Holmes stuck his feetup on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with hishands in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as itseemed, than to us.
"The man married a woman very much older than himself forher money," said he, "and he enjoyed the use of the money ofthe daughter as long as she lived with them.
It was a consider-able sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it wouldhave made a serious difference.
It was worth an effort to pre-serve it.
The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, butalfectionate and warm-hearted in her ways.
so that it was evidentthat with her fair personal advantages, and her little income, shewould not be allowed to remain single long.
Now her marriagewould mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so whatdoes her stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious courseof keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the companyof people of her own age.
But soon he found that that would notanswer forever.
She became restive, insisted upon her rights, andfinally announced her positive intention of going to a certainball.
What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives anidea more creditable to his head than to his heart.
With theconnivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself,covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the facewith a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clearvoice into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on accountof the girl's short sight, he appears as Mr.
Hosmer Angel, andkeeps off other lovers by making love himself." "It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor.
"We neverthought that she would have been so carried away." "Very likely not.
However that may be, the young lady wasvery decidedly carried away, and, having quite made up hermind that her stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treach-ery never for an instant entered her mind.
She was flattered bythe gentleman's attentions, and the effect was increased by theloudly expressed admiration of her mother.
Then Mr.
Angelbegan to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushedas far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced.
Therewere meetings, and an engagement, which would finally securethe girl's affections from turning towards anyone else.
But thedeception could not be kept up forever.
These pretended jour-neys to France were rather cumbrous.
The thing to do wasclearly to bring the business to an end in such a dramatic mannerthat it would leave a permanent impression upon the younglady's mind and prevent her from looking upon any other suitorfor some time to come.
Hence those vows of fidelity exactedupon a Testament, and hence also the allusions to a possibility ofsomething happening on the very morning of the wedding.
JamesWindibank wished Miss Sutherland to be so bound to HosmerAngel, and so uncertain as to his fate, that for ten years to come,at any rate, she would not listen to another man.
As far as thechurch door he brought her, and then, as he could go no farther,he conveniently vanished away by the old trick of stepping in atone door of a four-wheeler and out at the other.
I think that wasthe chain of events, Mr.
Windibank!" Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance whileHolmes had been talking, and he rose from his chair now with acold sneer upon his pale face.
"It may be so, or it may not.
Mr.
Holmes," said he.
"but ifyou are so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know thatit is you who are breaking the law now, and not me.
I have donenothing actionable from the first, but as long as you keep thatdoor locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault andillegal constraint." "The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes,unlocking and throwing open the door, "yet there never was aman who deserved punishment more.
If the young lady has abrother or a friend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders.By Jove!" he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bittersneer upon the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to myclient, but here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall justtreat myself to --" He took two swift steps to the whip, butbefore he could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon thestairs, the heavy hall door banged, and from the window wecould see Mr.
James Windibank running at the top of his speeddown the road.
"There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes, laughing,as he threw himself down into his chair once more.
"That fellowwill rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad,and ends on a gallows.
The case has, in some respects, been notentirely devoid of interest." "I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," Iremarked.
"Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr.Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curiousconduct, and it was equally clear that the only man who reallyprofited by the incident, as far as we could see, was the step-father.
Then the fact that the two men were never together, butthat the one always appeared when the other was away, wassuggestive.
So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice,which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers.
Mysuspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in typewrit-ing his signature, which, of course, inferred that his handwritingwas so familiar to her that she would recognize even the smallestsample of it.
You see all these isolated facts, together with manyminor ones, all pointed in the same direction." "And how did you verify them?" "Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corrobora-tion.
I knew the firm for which this man worked.
Having takenthe printed description.
I eliminated everything from it whichcould be the result of a disguise --the whiskers, the glasses, thevoice, and I sent it to the firm, with a request that they wouldinform me whether it answered to the description of any of theirtravellers.
I had already noticed the peculiarities of the type-writer, and I wrote to the man himself at his business addressasking him if he would come here.
As I expected, his reply wastypewritten and revealed the same trivial but characteristic de-fects.
The same post brought me a letter from Westhouse Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the description talliedin every respect with that of their employee, James Windibank.Voila tout!" "And Miss Sutherland?" "If I tell her she will not believe me.
You may remember theold Persian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tigercub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from awoman.' There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and asmuch knowledge of the world." The Boscombe Valley Mystery We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I,when the maid brought in a telegram.
It was from SherlockHolmes and ran in this way: Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy.
Shall be glad if you will come with me.
Air and scenery perfect.
Leave Paddington by the 11:15.
"What do you say, dear?" said my wife, looking across atme.
"Will you go?" "I really don't know what to say.
I have a fairly long list atpresent." "Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you.
You have beenlooking a little pale lately.
I think that the change would do yougood, and you are always so interested in Mr.
Sherlock Holmes'scases." "I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gainedthrough one of them," I answered.
"But if I am to go, I mustpack at once, for I have only half an hour." My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had theeffect of making me a prompt and ready traveller.
My wantswere few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was ina cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station.Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall,gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long graytravelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap.
