The Exploits of Sherlock Holmes (21 page)

the trace of self-satisfaction which I discerned in his manner.

"No Watson, I was startled at the broken window through which he retreated."

"But Miss Murray had told us that Captain Lasher broke the window in order to enter the

room."

"It is an unfortunate fact, Watson, that a woman will invariably omit from her narrative

that exact precision of detail which is as essential to the trained observer as bricks and mortar

to a builder. If you will recall, she stated that Captain Lasher ran out of the house, looked

through the French window and then, picking up a stone from the rock-garden, smashed the

glass and entered."

"Quite so."

"The reason that I started when I saw the Indian was because the man was retreating

through the wreckage of the
far
French window, while that nearer to the front door remained

unbroken. As we hurried forward to the house, I observed the gap in the rockery

immediately under the first window where Lasher had picked up the stone. Why, then, should

he run on to the second window and smash it, unless it was that the glass bore its own story?

Hence my broad hint to MacDonald of the oyster and the nearest fork. The groundwork of my

case was complete when I sniffed the contents of Colonel Warburton's cigar box. They were

Dutch, among the weakest in aroma of all cigars."

"All this is now quite clear to me," I said. "But in telling the whole household of your

plans to piece together the glass of the broken window it seems to me that you were risking

the very evidence on which your case was based."

Holmes reached for the Persian slipper and began to fill his pipe with black shag.

"My dear Watson, it would have been virtually impossible for me to reconstruct those

shattered panes to the degree that would prove the existence of two small bullet holes. No, it was

a question of bluff, my dear fellow, a gambler's throw. Should somebody make an attempt to

destroy still further those shards from the window, then that person was the murderer of

Colonel Warburton. I showed my hand deliberately. The rest is known to you. Our man

came, armed with a poker, having let himself in with the duplicate latch-key which we

discovered in his cape pocket. I think there is nothing to add."

"But the reason, Holmes," I cried.

"We have not far to look, Watson. We are told that, until Colonel Warburton's marriage,

Lasher was his only relative and therefore, we may assume, his heir. Mrs. Warburton,

according to Miss Murray's statement, disapproved of the younger man on the grounds of his

extravagant living. It is obvious from this that the wife's influence must represent a very real

danger to the interests of Captain Jack.

"On the night in question, our man came openly to the house and, having spoken with

Miss Murray and Major Earnshaw, retired ostensibly to drink a port in the dining-room. In

fact, however, he merely passed through the dining-room window, which opens on the front

garden, walked to the French windows of the curio room and there shot Colonel Warburton and

his wife through the glass.

"It would require no more than a few seconds to rush back by the way that he had come,

seize a decanter from the sideboard and hurry out into the hall. But he cut it fine, for you

will recall that he appeared a moment or two after the others. To complete the illusion of

Colonel Warburton's madness, it merely remained for him to eliminate the bullet holes by

smashing the window and, on entering, drop the revolver by the hand of his victim."

"And if Mrs. Warburton had not been there and he had been able to keep his

rendezvous with his uncle, what then?" I asked.

"Ah, Watson, there we can only guess. But the fact that he came armed presupposes

the worst. I have no doubt that when he comes to trial it will be found that Lasher was

pressed for money and, as we have ample reason to know, he is a young man who would

not shrink from taking his own measures to remove any obstacles that stood in the way of

his needs. Well, my dear fellow, it is high time that you were on your way home. Pray,

convey my apologies to your wife for any small interruption I may have caused in the

tranquillity of your
menage."

"But your shoulder, Holmes," I expostulated. "I must apply some liniment before you

retire for a few hours' rest."

"Tut, Watson," my friend replied. "You should have learned by now that the mind is the

master of the body. I have a small problem on hand concerning a solution of potash and so if

you would have the goodness to hand me that pipette—"

There were only two [cases] which I was the means of introducing to his notice, that of

Mr. Hatherley's thumb and that of Colonel Warburton's madness.

FROM "THE ENGINEER'S THUMB"

7

The Adventure of Foulkes Rath

"This is a
most curious affair," I said, dropping
The Times
on the floor. "Indeed, I am

surprised that the family have not already consulted you."

My friend Sherlock Holmes turned away from the window and threw himself into his

arm-chair.

"I take it that you refer to the murder at Foulkes Rath," he said languidly. "If so, this

might interest you, Watson. It arrived before breakfast."

He had drawn a buff-colored form from the pocket of his dressing-gown and now passed

it across to me. The telegram, which bore the postmark of Forest Row, Sussex, ran as

follows: "Having regard to Addleton affairs, propose to call on you at 10:15 precisely.

Vincent."

Picking up
The Times
again, I ran my eye quickly down the column. "There is no

mention of anybody named Vincent," I said.

"A fact of no importance whatever," replied Holmes impatiently. "Let us assume, from the

phraseology of the telegram, that he is a lawyer of the old school employed by the

Addleton family. As I observe, Watson, that we have a few minutes in hand, pray refresh

my memory by running over the salient points from the account in this morning's paper,

while omitting all irrelevant observations from their correspondent."

Holmes, having filled his clay pipe with shag from the Persian slipper, leaned back in his

chair and contemplated the ceiling through a cloud of pungent blue smoke.

"The tragedy occurred at Foulkes Rath," I began, "an ancient Sussex manor-house near

Forest Row on Ashdown Forest. The curious name of the house is derived from the

circumstance that there is an old burial ground—"

"Keep to the facts, Watson."

"The property was owned by Colonel Matthias Addleton," I continued rather stiffly.

"Squire Addleton, as he was known, was the local Justice of the Peace and the richest

landowner in the district. The household at Foulkes Rath consisted of the squire, his nephew

Percy Longton, the butler Morstead and four indoor servants. In addition, there is an outside

staff consisting of the lodge-keeper, a groom and several gamekeepers who occupy cottages

on the boundaries of the estate. Last night, Squire Addleton and his nephew dined at their usual

hour of eight o'clock and after dinner the squire sent for his horse and was absent for about an

hour. On his return, shortly before ten, he took a glass of port with his nephew in the hall.

The two men appear to have been quarrelling, for the butler has stated that, on entering with

the port, he remarked that the squire was flushed and brusque in his manner."

"And the nephew, Longton I think you said his name was?" Holmes interrupted.

"According to the butler, he did not see Longton's face as the young man walked to the

window and stood there looking out into the night while the butler was in the room. On

retiring, however, the butler caught the sounds of their voices in a furious altercation. Shortly

after midnight, the household was roused by a loud cry apparently from the hall and, on rushing

down in their night-clothes, they were horrified to discover Squire Addleton lying senseless in a

pool of blood with his head split open. Standing beside the body of the dying man was Mr. Percy

Longton, clad in a dressing-gown and grasping in his hand a blood-stained axe, a mediaeval

executioner's axe, Holmes, which had been torn down from a trophy of arms above the

fireplace. Longton was so dazed with horror that he could scarcely assist in lifting the

injured man's head and staunching the loss of blood. However, even as Morstead bent over

him, the squire raising himself on his elbows gasped out in a dreadful whisper, 'It—was—

Long—tom! It—was—Long—!' and sank back dead in the butler's arms. The local police

were summoned and, on the evidence of the quarrel between the two men, the discovery of the

nephew standing over the body and finally the accusing words of the dying man himself, Mr. Percy

Longton has been arrested for the murder of Squire Addleton. I see that there is a note in

the late-news column that the accused man, who has never ceased to protest his innocence, has

been removed to Lewes. These would appear to be the principal facts, Holmes."

For a while my friend smoked in silence.

"What explanation did Longton offer for the quarrel?" he asked at length.

"It is stated here that he voluntarily informed the police that he and his uncle came to high

words on the subject of the latter's sale of Chudford Farm which Longton considered a further

and unnecessary reduction of the estate."

"Further?"

"It appears that Squire Addleton has sold other holdings over the last two years," I

replied, throwing the paper on the couch. "I must say, Holmes, that I have seldom read a

case in which the culprit is more clearly defined."

"Ugly, Watson, very ugly," my friend agreed. "Indeed, presuming the facts to be as stated, I

cannot conceive why this Mr. Vincent should propose to waste my time. But here, unless I am

much mistaken, is our man upon the staircase."

There came a knock on the door and Mrs. Hudson ushered in our visitor.

Mr. Vincent was a small, elderly man with a long, pale, mournful face framed in a pair of

side-whiskers. For a moment, he stood hesitating while he peered at us shortsightedly through

his
pince-nez
which were attached by a black ribbon to the lapel of his rather dingy frock-coat.

"This is too bad, Mr. Holmes!" he cried shrilly. "I assumed that my telegram would ensure

privacy, sir, absolute privacy. My client's affairs—"

"This is my colleague Dr. Watson," interposed Sherlock Holmes, waving our visitor to the

chair which I had drawn forward. "I assure you that his presence may be invaluable."

Mr. Vincent bobbed his head towards me and, depositing his hat and stick on the floor,

sank into the cushions.

"Pray believe that I meant you no offence, Dr. Watson," he squeaked. "But this is a terrible

morning, a terrible morning I say, for those who cherish goodwill for the Addletons of Foulkes

Rath."

"Quite so," said Holmes. "I trust, however, that your early-morning walk to the station did

something to restore your nerves. I find that exercise is in itself a sedative."

Our visitor started in his seat. "Really, sir," he cried, "I fail to see how you—"

"Tut, tut;" Holmes interrupted impatiently. "A man who has driven to the station does

not appear with a splash of fresh clay on his left gaiter and a similar smear across the ferrule

of his stick. You walked through a rough country lane and, as the weather is dry, I should

judge that your path took in a ford or water-crossing."

"Your reasoning is perfectly correct, sir," replied Mr. Vincent, with a most suspicious

glance at Holmes over the top of his
pince-nez.
"My horse is at grass and not even a hack

available at that hour in the village. I walked as you say, caught the milk train to London and

here I am to enlist, nay, Mr. Holmes, to
demand,
your services for my unfortunate young

client, Mr. Percy Longton."

Holmes lay back with closed eyes and his chin resting on his finger-tips. "I fear that there

is nothing that I can do in the matter," he announced. "Dr. Watson has already put before me

the principal facts, and they would appear to be quite damning. Who is in charge of the

case?"

"I understand that the local police, in view of the gravity of the crime, appealed to

Scotland Yard, who dispatched an Inspector Lestrade—dear me, Mr. Holmes, I fear that you

have a painful twinge of rheumatics—an Inspector Lestrade to take charge. I should explain,

perhaps," went on our visitor, "that I am the senior partner of Vincent, Peabody and Vincent,

the legal practitioners of Forest Row to whom the Addletons have entrusted their interests

for the past hundred years and more."

Leaning forward, Holmes picked up the paper and, tapping the place sharply with his

finger, handed it without a word to the lawyer.

"The account is accurate enough," said the little man sadly, after running his eye down the

column, "though it omits to state that the front door was unlocked despite the fact that the

squire told Morstead the butler that he would lock it himself."