wohnzimmer einrichten grauer boden

the return of sherlock holmesby sir arthur conan doyle chapter ii: “the adventure of the norwood builder” “from the point of view of the criminalexpert,” said mr. sherlock holmes, “london has become a singularly uninteresting citysince the death of the late lamented professor moriarty.” “i can hardly think that you would findmany decent citizens to agree with you,” i answered. “well, well, i must not be selfish,” saidhe, with a smile, as he pushed back his chair from the breakfast-table. “the community is certainly the gainer,and no one the loser, save the poor out-of-work specialist, whose occupation has gone.

with that man in the field one’s morningpaper presented infinite possibilities. often it was only the smallest trace, watson,the faintest indication, and yet it was enough to tell me that the great malignant brainwas there, as the gentlest tremors of the edges of the web remind one of the foul spiderwhich lurks in the centre. petty thefts, wanton assaults, purposelessoutrage—to the man who held the clue all could be worked into one connected whole. to the scientific student of the higher criminalworld no capital in europe offered the advantages which london then possessed. but now—” he shrugged his shoulders inhumorous deprecation of the state of things

which he had himself done so much to produce. at the time of which i speak holmes had beenback for some months, and i, at his request, had sold my practice and returned to sharethe old quarters in baker street. a young doctor, named verner, had purchasedmy small kensington practice, and given with astonishingly little demur the highest pricethat i ventured to ask—an incident which only explained itself some years later wheni found that verner was a distant relation of holmes’s, and that it was my friend whohad really found the money. our months of partnership had not been souneventful as he had stated, for i find, on looking over my notes, that this period includesthe case of the papers of ex-president murillo,

and also the shocking affair of the dutchsteamship friesland, which so nearly cost us both our lives. his cold and proud nature was always averse,however, to anything in the shape of public applause, and he bound me in the most stringentterms to say no further word of himself, his methods, or his successes—a prohibitionwhich, as i have explained, has only now been removed. mr. sherlock holmes was leaning back in hischair after his whimsical protest, and was unfolding his morning paper in a leisurelyfashion, when our attention was arrested by a tremendous ring at the bell, followed immediatelyby a hollow drumming sound, as if someone

were beating on the outer door with his fist. as it opened there came a tumultuous rushinto the hall, rapid feet clattered up the stair, and an instant later a wild-eyed andfrantic young man, pale, dishevelled, and palpitating, burst into the room. he looked from one to the other of us, andunder our gaze of inquiry he became conscious that some apology was needed for this unceremoniousentry. “i’m sorry, mr. holmes,” he cried. “you mustn’t blame me. i am nearly mad.

mr. holmes, i am the unhappy john hector mcfarlane.” he made the announcement as if the name alonewould explain both his visit and its manner; but i could see by my companion’s unresponsiveface that it meant no more to him than to me. “have a cigarette, mr. mcfarlane,” saidhe, pushing his case across. “i am sure that with your symptoms my frienddr. watson here would prescribe a sedative. the weather has been so very warm these lastfew days. now, if you feel a little more composed, ishould be glad if you would sit down in that chair and tell us very slowly and quietlywho you are and what it is that you want.

you mentioned your name as if i should recogniseit, but i assure you that, beyond the obvious facts that you are a bachelor, a solicitor,a freemason, and an asthmatic, i know nothing whatever about you.” familiar as i was with my friend’s methods,it was not difficult for me to follow his deductions, and to observe the untidinessof attire, the sheaf of legal papers, the watch-charm, and the breathing which had promptedthem. our client, however, stared in amazement. “yes, i am all that, mr. holmes, and inaddition i am the most unfortunate man at this moment in london.

for heaven’s sake don’t abandon me, mr.holmes! if they come to arrest me before i have finishedmy story, make them give me time so that i may tell you the whole truth. i could go to gaol happy if i knew that youwere working for me outside.” “arrest you!” said holmes. “this is really most grati—most interesting. on what charge do you expect to be arrested?” “upon the charge of murdering mr. jonasoldacre, of lower norwood.” my companion’s expressive face showed asympathy which was not, i am afraid, entirely

unmixed with satisfaction. “dear me,” said he; “it was only thismoment at breakfast that i was saying to my friend, dr. watson, that sensational caseshad disappeared out of our papers.” our visitor stretched forward a quiveringhand and picked up the daily telegraph, which still lay upon holmes’s knee. “if you had looked at it, sir, you wouldhave seen at a glance what the errand is on which i have come to you this morning. i feel as if my name and my misfortune mustbe in every man’s mouth.” he turned it over to expose the central page.

“here it is, and with your permission iwill read it to you. listen to this, mr. holmes. the head-lines are: ‘mysterious affair atlower norwood. disappearance of a well-known builder. suspicion of murder and arson. a clue to the criminal.’ that is the clue which they are already following,mr. holmes, and i know that it leads infallibly to me. i have been followed from london bridge station,and i am sure that they are only waiting for

the warrant to arrest me. it will break my mother’s heart—it willbreak her heart!” he wrung his hands in an agony of apprehension,and swayed backwards and forwards in his chair. i looked with interest upon this man, whowas accused of being the perpetrator of a crime of violence. he was flaxen-haired and handsome in a washed-outnegative fashion, with frightened blue eyes and a clean-shaven face, with a weak, sensitivemouth. his age may have been about twenty-seven;his dress and bearing that of a gentleman. from the pocket of his light summer overcoatprotruded the bundle of endorsed papers which

proclaimed his profession. “we must use what time we have,” saidholmes. “watson, would you have the kindness totake the paper and to read me the paragraph in question?” underneath the vigorous head-lines which ourclient had quoted i read the following suggestive narrative:—late last night, or early this morning, an incident occurred at lower norwood which points,it is feared, to a serious crime. mr. jonas oldacre is a well-known residentof that suburb, where he has carried on his business as a builder for many years.

mr. oldacre is a bachelor, fifty-two yearsof age, and lives in deep dene house, at the sydenham end of the road of that name. he has had the reputation of being a man ofeccentric habits, secretive and retiring. for some years he has practically withdrawnfrom the business, in which he is said to have amassed considerable wealth. a small timber-yard still exists, however,at the back of the house, and last night, about twelve o’clock, an alarm was giventhat one of the stacks was on fire. the engines were soon upon the spot, but thedry wood burned with great fury, and it was impossible to arrest the conflagration untilthe stack had been entirely consumed.

up to this point the incident bore the appearanceof an ordinary accident, but fresh indications seem to point to serious crime. surprise was expressed at the absence of themaster of the establishment from the scene of the fire, and an inquiry followed, whichshowed that he had disappeared from the house. an examination of his room revealed that thebed had not been slept in, that a safe which stood in it was open, that a number of importantpapers were scattered about the room, and, finally, that there were signs of a murderousstruggle, slight traces of blood being found within the room, and an oaken walking-stick,which also showed stains of blood upon the handle.

it is known that mr. jonas oldacre had receiveda late visitor in his bedroom upon that night, and the stick found has been identified asthe property of this person, who is a young london solicitor named john hector mcfarlane,junior partner of graham and mcfarlane, of 426, gresham buildings, e.c. the police believe that they have evidencein their possession which supplies a very convincing motive for the crime, and altogetherit cannot be doubted that sensational developments will follow. later.—it is rumoured as we go to pressthat mr. john hector mcfarlane has actually been arrested on the charge of the murderof mr. jonas oldacre.

it is at least certain that a warrant hasbeen issued. there have been further and sinister developmentsin the investigation at norwood. besides the signs of a struggle in the roomof the unfortunate builder it is now known that the french windows of his bedroom (whichis on the ground floor) were found to be open, that there were marks as if some bulky objecthad been dragged across to the wood-pile, and, finally, it is asserted that charredremains have been found among the charcoal ashes of the fire. the police theory is that a most sensationalcrime has been committed, that the victim was clubbed to death in his own bedroom, hispapers rifled, and his dead body dragged across

to the wood-stack, which was then ignitedso as to hide all traces of the crime. the conduct of the criminal investigationhas been left in the experienced hands of inspector lestrade, of scotland yard, whois following up the clues with his accustomed energy and sagacity. sherlock holmes listened with closed eyesand finger-tips together to this remarkable account. “the case has certainly some points of interest,”said he, in his languid fashion. “may i ask, in the first place, mr. mcfarlane,how it is that you are still at liberty, since there appears to be enough evidence to justifyyour arrest?”

“i live at torrington lodge, blackheath,with my parents, mr. holmes; but last night, having to do business very late with mr. jonasoldacre, i stayed at an hotel in norwood, and came to my business from there. i knew nothing of this affair until i wasin the train, when i read what you have just heard. i at once saw the horrible danger of my position,and i hurried to put the case into your hands. i have no doubt that i should have been arrestedeither at my city office or at my home. a man followed me from london bridge station,and i have no doubt—great heaven, what is that?”

it was a clang of the bell, followed instantlyby heavy steps upon the stair. a moment later our old friend lestrade appearedin the doorway. over his shoulder i caught a glimpse of oneor two uniformed policemen outside. “mr. john hector mcfarlane?” said lestrade. our unfortunate client rose with a ghastlyface. “i arrest you for the wilful murder of mr.jonas oldacre, of lower norwood.” mcfarlane turned to us with a gesture of despair,and sank into his chair once more like one who is crushed. “one moment, lestrade,” said holmes.

“half an hour more or less can make no differenceto you, and the gentleman was about to give us an account of this very interesting affair,which might aid us in clearing it up.” “i think there will be no difficulty inclearing it up,” said lestrade, grimly. “none the less, with your permission, ishould be much interested to hear his account.” “well, mr. holmes, it is difficult for meto refuse you anything, for you have been of use to the force once or twice in the past,and we owe you a good turn at scotland yard,” said lestrade. “at the same time i must remain with myprisoner, and i am bound to warn him that anything he may say will appear in evidenceagainst him.”

“i wish nothing better,” said our client. “all i ask is that you should hear and recognisethe absolute truth.” lestrade looked at his watch. “i’ll give you half an hour,” said he. “i must explain first,” said mcfarlane,“that i knew nothing of mr. jonas oldacre. his name was familiar to me, for many yearsago my parents were acquainted with him, but they drifted apart. i was very much surprised, therefore, whenyesterday, about three o’clock in the afternoon, he walked into my office in the city.

but i was still more astonished when he toldme the object of his visit. he had in his hand several sheets of a note-book,covered with scribbled writing—here they are—and he laid them on my table. “‘here is my will,’ said he. ‘i want you, mr. mcfarlane, to cast it intoproper legal shape. i will sit here while you do so.’ “i set myself to copy it, and you can imaginemy astonishment when i found that, with some reservations, he had left all his propertyto me. he was a strange little, ferret-like man,with white eyelashes, and when i looked up

at him i found his keen grey eyes fixed uponme with an amused expression. i could hardly believe my own senses as iread the terms of the will; but he explained that he was a bachelor with hardly any livingrelation, that he had known my parents in his youth, and that he had always heard ofme as a very deserving young man, and was assured that his money would be in worthyhands. of course, i could only stammer out my thanks. the will was duly finished, signed, and witnessedby my clerk. this is it on the blue paper, and these slips,as i have explained, are the rough draft. mr. jonas oldacre then informed me that therewere a number of documents—building leases,

title-deeds, mortgages, scrip, and so forth—whichit was necessary that i should see and understand. he said that his mind would not be easy untilthe whole thing was settled, and he begged me to come out to his house at norwood thatnight, bringing the will with me, and to arrange matters. ‘remember, my boy, not one word to yourparents about the affair until everything is settled. we will keep it as a little surprise for them.’ he was very insistent upon this point, andmade me promise it faithfully. “you can imagine, mr. holmes, that i wasnot in a humour to refuse him anything that

he might ask. he was my benefactor, and all my desire wasto carry out his wishes in every particular. i sent a telegram home, therefore, to saythat i had important business on hand, and that it was impossible for me to say how latei might be. mr. oldacre had told me that he would likeme to have supper with him at nine, as he might not be home before that hour. i had some difficulty in finding his house,however, and it was nearly half-past before i reached it. i found him—”“one moment!” said holmes.

“who opened the door?” “a middle-aged woman, who was, i suppose,his housekeeper.” “and it was she, i presume, who mentionedyour name?” “exactly,” said mcfarlane. “pray proceed.” mcfarlane wiped his damp brow and then continuedhis narrative:— “i was shown by this woman into a sitting-room,where a frugal supper was laid out. afterwards mr. jonas oldacre led me into hisbedroom, in which there stood a heavy safe. this he opened and took out a mass of documents,which we went over together.

it was between eleven and twelve when we finished. he remarked that we must not disturb the housekeeper. he showed me out through his own french window,which had been open all this time.” “was the blind down?” asked holmes. “i will not be sure, but i believe thatit was only half down. yes, i remember how he pulled it up in orderto swing open the window. i could not find my stick, and he said, ‘nevermind, my boy; i shall see a good deal of you now, i hope, and i will keep your stick untilyou come back to claim it.’ i left him there, the safe open, and the papersmade up in packets upon the table.

it was so late that i could not get back toblackheath, so i spent the night at the anerley arms, and i knew nothing more until i readof this horrible affair in the morning.” “anything more that you would like to ask,mr. holmes?” said lestrade, whose eyebrows had gone up once or twice during this remarkableexplanation. “not until i have been to blackheath.” “you mean to norwood,” said lestrade. “oh, yes; no doubt that is what i must havemeant,” said holmes, with his enigmatical smile. lestrade had learned by more experiences thanhe would care to acknowledge that that razor-like

brain could cut through that which was impenetrableto him. i saw him look curiously at my companion. “i think i should like to have a word withyou presently, mr. sherlock holmes,” said he. “now, mr. mcfarlane, two of my constablesare at the door and there is a four-wheeler waiting.” the wretched young man arose, and with a lastbeseeching glance at us walked from the room. the officers conducted him to the cab, butlestrade remained. holmes had picked up the pages which formedthe rough draft of the will, and was looking

at them with the keenest interest upon hisface. “there are some points about that document,lestrade, are there not?” said he, pushing them over. the official looked at them with a puzzledexpression. “i can read the first few lines, and thesein the middle of the second page, and one or two at the end. those are as clear as print,” said he; “butthe writing in between is very bad, and there are three places where i cannot read it atall.” “what do you make of that?” said holmes.

“well, what do you make of it?” “that it was written in a train; the goodwriting represents stations, the bad writing movement, and the very bad writing passingover points. a scientific expert would pronounce at oncethat this was drawn up on a suburban line, since nowhere save in the immediate vicinityof a great city could there be so quick a succession of points. granting that his whole journey was occupiedin drawing up the will, then the train was an express, only stopping once between norwoodand london bridge.” lestrade began to laugh.

“you are too many for me when you beginto get on your theories, mr. holmes,” said “how does this bear on the case?” “well, it corroborates the young man’sstory to the extent that the will was drawn up by jonas oldacre in his journey yesterday. it is curious—is it not?—that a man shoulddraw up so important a document in so haphazard a fashion. it suggests that he did not think it was goingto be of much practical importance. if a man drew up a will which he did not intendever to be effective he might do it so.” “well, he drew up his own death-warrantat the same time,” said lestrade.

“oh, you think so?” “don’t you?” “well, it is quite possible; but the caseis not clear to me yet.” “not clear? well, if that isn’t clear, what could beclear? here is a young man who learns suddenly thatif a certain older man dies he will succeed to a fortune. what does he do? he says nothing to anyone, but he arrangesthat he shall go out on some pretext to see

his client that night; he waits until theonly other person in the house is in bed, and then in the solitude of a man’s roomhe murders him, burns his body in the wood-pile, and departs to a neighbouring hotel. the blood-stains in the room and also on thestick are very slight. it is probable that he imagined his crimeto be a bloodless one, and hoped that if the body were consumed it would hide all tracesof the method of his death—traces which for some reason must have pointed to him. is all this not obvious?” “it strikes me, my good lestrade, as beingjust a trifle too obvious,” said holmes.

“you do not add imagination to your othergreat qualities; but if you could for one moment put yourself in the place of this youngman, would you choose the very night after the will had been made to commit your crime? would it not seem dangerous to you to makeso very close a relation between the two incidents? again, would you choose an occasion when youare known to be in the house, when a servant has let you in? and, finally, would you take the great painsto conceal the body and yet leave your own stick as a sign that you were the criminal? confess, lestrade, that all this is very unlikely.”

“as to the stick, mr. holmes, you know aswell as i do that a criminal is often flurried and does things which a cool man would avoid. he was very likely afraid to go back to theroom. give me another theory that would fit thefacts.” “i could very easily give you half-a-dozen,”said holmes. “here, for example, is a very possible andeven probable one. i make you a free present of it. the older man is showing documents which areof evident value. a passing tramp sees them through the window,the blind of which is only half down.

exit the solicitor. enter the tramp! he seizes a stick, which he observes there,kills oldacre, and departs after burning the body.” “why should the tramp burn the body?” “for the matter of that why should mcfarlane?” “to hide some evidence.” “possibly the tramp wanted to hide thatany murder at all had been committed.” “and why did the tramp take nothing?”

“because they were papers that he couldnot negotiate.” lestrade shook his head, though it seemedto me that his manner was less absolutely assured than before. “well, mr. sherlock holmes, you may lookfor your tramp, and while you are finding him we will hold on to our man. the future will show which is right. just notice this point, mr. holmes: that sofar as we know none of the papers were removed, and that the prisoner is the one man in theworld who had no reason for removing them, since he was heir-at-law and would come intothem in any case.”

my friend seemed struck by this remark. “i don’t mean to deny that the evidenceis in some ways very strongly in favour of your theory,” said he. “i only wish to point out that there areother theories possible. as you say, the future will decide. good morning! i dare say that in the course of the day ishall drop in at norwood and see how you are getting on.” when the detective departed my friend roseand made his preparations for the day’s

work with the alert air of a man who has acongenial task before him. “my first movement, watson,” said he,as he bustled into his frock-coat, “must, as i said, be in the direction of blackheath.” “and why not norwood?” “because we have in this case one singularincident coming close to the heels of another singular incident. the police are making the mistake of concentratingtheir attention upon the second, because it happens to be the one which is actually criminal. but it is evident to me that the logical wayto approach the case is to begin by trying

to throw some light upon the first incident—thecurious will, so suddenly made, and to so unexpected an heir. it may do something to simplify what followed. no, my dear fellow, i don’t think you canhelp me. there is no prospect of danger, or i shouldnot dream of stirring out without you. i trust that when i see you in the eveningi will be able to report that i have been able to do something for this unfortunateyoungster who has thrown himself upon my protection.” it was late when my friend returned, and icould see by a glance at his haggard and anxious face that the high hopes with which he hadstarted had not been fulfilled.

for an hour he droned away upon his violin,endeavouring to soothe his own ruffled spirits. at last he flung down the instrument and plungedinto a detailed account of his misadventures. “it’s all going wrong, watson—all aswrong as it can go. i kept a bold face before lestrade, but, uponmy soul, i believe that for once the fellow is on the right track and we are on the wrong. all my instincts are one way and all the factsare the other, and i much fear that british juries have not yet attained that pitch ofintelligence when they will give the preference to my theories over lestrade’s facts.” “did you go to blackheath?”

“yes, watson, i went there, and i foundvery quickly that the late lamented oldacre was a pretty considerable black-guard. the father was away in search of his son. the mother was at home—a little, fluffy,blue-eyed person, in a tremor of fear and indignation. of course, she would not admit even the possibilityof his guilt. but she would not express either surpriseor regret over the fate of oldacre. on the contrary, she spoke of him with suchbitterness that she was unconsciously considerably strengthening the case of the police, for,of course, if her son had heard her speak

of the man in this fashion it would predisposehim towards hatred and violence. ‘he was more like a malignant and cunningape than a human being,’ said she, ‘and he always was, ever since he was a young man.’ “‘you knew him at that time?’ said i. “‘yes, i knew him well; in fact, he wasan old suitor of mine. thank heaven that i had the sense to turnaway from him and to marry a better, if a poorer, man. i was engaged to him, mr. holmes, when i hearda shocking story of how he had turned a cat loose in an aviary, and i was so horrifiedat his brutal cruelty that i would have nothing

more to do with him.’ she rummaged in a bureau, and presently sheproduced a photograph of a woman, shamefully defaced and mutilated with a knife. ‘that is my own photograph,’ she said. ‘he sent it to me in that state, with hiscurse, upon my wedding morning.’ “‘well,’ said i, ‘at least he hasforgiven you now, since he has left all his property to your son.’ “‘neither my son nor i want anything fromjonas oldacre, dead or alive,’ she cried, with a proper spirit.

‘there is a god in heaven, mr. holmes, andthat same god who has punished that wicked man will show in his own good time that myson’s hands are guiltless of his blood.’ “well, i tried one or two leads, but couldget at nothing which would help our hypothesis, and several points which would make againstit. i gave it up at last and off i went to norwood. holmes and watson greeting a man“this place, deep dene house, is a big modern villa of staring brick, standing back in itsown grounds, with a laurel-clumped lawn in front of it. to the right and some distance back from theroad was the timber-yard which had been the

scene of the fire. here’s a rough plan on a leaf of my note-book. this window on the left is the one which opensinto oldacre’s room. you can look into it from the road, you see. that is about the only bit of consolationi have had to-day. lestrade was not there, but his head constabledid the honours. they had just made a great treasure-trove. they had spent the morning raking among theashes of the burned wood-pile, and besides the charred organic remains they had securedseveral discoloured metal discs.

i examined them with care, and there was nodoubt that they were trouser buttons. i even distinguished that one of them wasmarked with the name of ‘hyams,’ who was oldacre’s tailor. i then worked the lawn very carefully forsigns and traces, but this drought has made everything as hard as iron. nothing was to be seen save that some bodyor bundle had been dragged through a low privet hedge which is in a line with the wood-pile. all that, of course, fits in with the officialtheory. i crawled about the lawn with an august sunon my back, but i got up at the end of an

hour no wiser than before. “well, after this fiasco i went into thebedroom and examined that also. the blood-stains were very slight, mere smearsand discolorations, but undoubtedly fresh. the stick had been removed, but there alsothe marks were slight. there is no doubt about the stick belongingto our client. he admits it. footmarks of both men could be made out onthe carpet, but none of any third person, which again is a trick for the other side. they were piling up their score all the timeand we were at a standstill.

“only one little gleam of hope did i get—andyet it amounted to nothing. i examined the contents of the safe, mostof which had been taken out and left on the table. the papers had been made up into sealed envelopes,one or two of which had been opened by the police. they were not, so far as i could judge, ofany great value, nor did the bank-book show that mr. oldacre was in such very affluentcircumstances. but it seemed to me that all the papers werenot there. there were allusions to some deeds—possiblythe more valuable—which i could not find.

this, of course, if we could definitely proveit, would turn lestrade’s argument against himself, for who would steal a thing if heknew that he would shortly inherit it? “finally, having drawn every other coverand picked up no scent, i tried my luck with the housekeeper. mrs. lexington is her name, a little, dark,silent person, with suspicious and sidelong eyes. she could tell us something if she would—i am convinced of it. but she was as close as wax. yes, she had let mr. mcfarlane in at half-pastnine.

she wished her hand had withered before shehad done so. she had gone to bed at half-past ten. her room was at the other end of the house,and she could hear nothing of what passed. mr. mcfarlane had left his hat, and to thebest of her belief his stick, in the hall. she had been awakened by the alarm of fire. her poor, dear master had certainly been murdered. had he any enemies? well, every man had enemies, but mr. oldacrekept himself very much to himself, and only met people in the way of business.

she had seen the buttons, and was sure thatthey belonged to the clothes which he had worn last night. the wood-pile was very dry, for it had notrained for a month. it burned like tinder, and by the time shereached the spot nothing could be seen but flames. she and all the firemen smelled the burnedflesh from inside it. she knew nothing of the papers, nor of mr.oldacre’s private affairs. “so, my dear watson, there’s my reportof a failure. and yet— and yet—”—he clenched histhin hands in a paroxysm of conviction—“i

know it’s all wrong. i feel it in my bones. there is something that has not come out,and that housekeeper knows it. there was a sort of sulky defiance in hereyes, which only goes with guilty knowledge. however, there’s no good talking any moreabout it, watson; but unless some lucky chance comes our way i fear that the norwood disappearancecase will not figure in that chronicle of our successes which i foresee that a patientpublic will sooner or later have to endure.” “surely,” said i, “the man’s appearancewould go far with any jury?” “that is a dangerous argument, my dear watson.

you remember that terrible murderer, bertstevens, who wanted us to get him off in ‘87? was there ever a more mild-mannered, sunday-schoolyoung man?” “it is true.” “unless we succeed in establishing an alternativetheory this man is lost. you can hardly find a flaw in the case whichcan now be presented against him, and all further investigation has served to strengthenit. by the way, there is one curious little pointabout those papers which may serve us as the starting-point for an inquiry. on looking over the bank-book i found thatthe low state of the balance was principally

due to large cheques which have been madeout during the last year to mr. cornelius. i confess that i should be interested to knowwho this mr. cornelius may be with whom a retired builder has such very large transactions. is it possible that he has had a hand in theaffair? cornelius might be a broker, but we have foundno scrip to correspond with these large payments. failing any other indication my researchesmust now take the direction of an inquiry at the bank for the gentleman who has cashedthese cheques. but i fear, my dear fellow, that our casewill end ingloriously by lestrade hanging our client, which will certainly be a triumphfor scotland yard.”

i do not know how far sherlock holmes tookany sleep that night, but when i came down to breakfast i found him pale and harassed,his bright eyes the brighter for the dark shadows round them. the carpet round his chair was littered withcigarette-ends and with the early editions of the morning papers. an open telegram lay upon the table. “what do you think of this, watson?” heasked, tossing it across. it was from norwood, and ran as follows:—“important fresh evidence to hand. mcfarlane’s guilt definitely established.

advise you to abandon case.—lestrade.” “this sounds serious,” said i. “it is lestrade’s little cock-a-doodleof victory,” holmes answered, with a bitter “and yet it may be premature to abandonthe case. after all, important fresh evidence is a two-edgedthing, and may possibly cut in a very different direction to that which lestrade imagines. take your breakfast, watson, and we will goout together and see what we can do. i feel as if i shall need your company andyour moral support to-day.” my friend had no breakfast himself, for itwas one of his peculiarities that in his more

intense moments he would permit himself nofood, and i have known him presume upon his iron strength until he has fainted from pureinanition. “at present i cannot spare energy and nerveforce for digestion,” he would say in answer to my medical remonstrances. i was not surprised, therefore, when thismorning he left his untouched meal behind him and started with me for norwood. a crowd of morbid sightseers were still gatheredround deep dene house, which was just such a suburban villa as i had pictured. within the gates lestrade met us, his faceflushed with victory, his manner grossly triumphant.

“well, mr. holmes, have you proved us tobe wrong yet? have you found your tramp?” he cried. “i have formed no conclusion whatever,”my companion answered. “but we formed ours yesterday, and now itproves to be correct; so you must acknowledge that we have been a little in front of youthis time, mr. holmes.” “you certainly have the air of somethingunusual having occurred,” said holmes. lestrade laughed loudly. “you don’t like being beaten any morethan the rest of us do,” said he. “a man can’t expect always to have ithis own way, can he, dr. watson?

step this way, if you please, gentlemen, andi think i can convince you once for all that it was john mcfarlane who did this crime.” he led us through the passage and out intoa dark hall beyond. “this is where young mcfarlane must havecome out to get his hat after the crime was done,” said he. “now, look at this.” with dramatic suddenness he struck a matchand by its light exposed a stain of blood upon the whitewashed wall. as he held the match nearer i saw that itwas more than a stain.

it was the well-marked print of a thumb. “look at that with your magnifying glass,mr. holmes.” “yes, i am doing so.” “you are aware that no two thumb marks arealike?” “i have heard something of the kind.” “well, then, will you please compare thatprint with this wax impression of young mcfarlane’s right thumb, taken by my orders this morning?” as he held the waxen print close to the blood-stainit did not take a magnifying glass to see that the two were undoubtedly from the samethumb.

it was evident to me that our unfortunateclient was lost. “that is final,” said lestrade. “yes, that is final,” i involuntarilyechoed. “it is final,” said holmes. something in his tone caught my ear, and iturned to look at him. an extraordinary change had come over hisface. it was writhing with inward merriment. his two eyes were shining like stars. it seemed to me that he was making desperateefforts to restrain a convulsive attack of

laughter. “dear me! dear me!” he said at last. “well, now, who would have thought it? and how deceptive appearances may be, to besure! such a nice young man to look at! it is a lesson to us not to trust our ownjudgment, is it not, lestrade?” “yes, some of us are a little too much inclinedto be cocksure, mr. holmes,” said lestrade. the man’s insolence was maddening, but wecould not resent it.

“what a providential thing that this youngman should press his right thumb against the wall in taking his hat from the peg! such a very natural action, too, if you cometo think of it.” holmes was outwardly calm, but his whole bodygave a wriggle of suppressed excitement as he spoke. “by the way, lestrade, who made this remarkablediscovery?” “it was the housekeeper, mrs. lexington,who drew the night constable’s attention to it.” “where was the night constable?”

“he remained on guard in the bedroom wherethe crime was committed, so as to see that nothing was touched.” “but why didn’t the police see this markyesterday?” “well, we had no particular reason to makea careful examination of the hall. besides, it’s not in a very prominent place,as you see.” “no, no, of course not. i suppose there is no doubt that the markwas there yesterday?” lestrade looked at holmes as if he thoughthe was going out of his mind. i confess that i was myself surprised bothat his hilarious manner and at his rather

wild observation. “i don’t know whether you think that mcfarlanecame out of gaol in the dead of the night in order to strengthen the evidence againsthimself,” said lestrade. “i leave it to any expert in the world whetherthat is not the mark of his thumb.” “it is unquestionably the mark of his thumb.” “there, that’s enough,” said lestrade. “i am a practical man, mr. holmes, and wheni have got my evidence i come to my conclusions. if you have anything to say you will findme writing my report in the sitting-room.” holmes had recovered his equanimity, thoughi still seemed to detect gleams of amusement

in his expression. “dear me, this is a very sad development,watson, is it not?” said he. “and yet there are singular points aboutit which hold out some hopes for our client.” “i am delighted to hear it,” said i, heartily. “i was afraid it was all up with him.” “i would hardly go so far as to say that,my dear watson. the fact is that there is one really seriousflaw in this evidence to which our friend attaches so much importance.” “indeed, holmes!

what is it?” “only this: that i know that that mark wasnot there when i examined the hall yesterday. and now, watson, let us have a little strollround in the sunshine.” with a confused brain, but with a heart intowhich some warmth of hope was returning, i accompanied my friend in a walk round thegarden. holmes took each face of the house in turnand examined it with great interest. he then led the way inside and went over thewhole building from basement to attics. most of the rooms were unfurnished, but nonethe less holmes inspected them all minutely. finally, on the top corridor, which ran outsidethree untenanted bedrooms, he again was seized

with a spasm of merriment. “there are really some very unique featuresabout this case, watson,” said he. “i think it is time now that we took ourfriend lestrade into our confidence. he has had his little smile at our expense,and perhaps we may do as much by him if my reading of this problem proves to be correct. yes, yes; i think i see how we should approachit.” the scotland yard inspector was still writingin the parlour when holmes interrupted him. “i understood that you were writing a reportof this case,” said he. “so i am.”

“don’t you think it may be a little premature? i can’t help thinking that your evidenceis not complete.” lestrade knew my friend too well to disregardhis words. he laid down his pen and looked curiouslyat him. “what do you mean, mr. holmes?” “only that there is an important witnesswhom you have not seen.” “can you produce him?” “i think i can.” “then do so.”

“i will do my best. how many constables have you?” “there are three within call.” “excellent!” said holmes. “may i ask if they are all large, able-bodiedmen with powerful voices?” “i have no doubt they are, though i failto see what their voices have to do with it.” “perhaps i can help you to see that andone or two other things as well,” said holmes. “kindly summon your men, and i will try.” five minutes later three policemen had assembledin the hall.

“in the outhouse you will find a considerablequantity of straw,” said holmes. “i will ask you to carry in two bundlesof it. i think it will be of the greatest assistancein producing the witness whom i require. thank you very much. i believe you have some matches in your pocket,watson. now, mr. lestrade, i will ask you all to accompanyme to the top landing.” as i have said, there was a broad corridorthere, which ran outside three empty bedrooms. at one end of the corridor we were all marshalledby sherlock holmes, the constables grinning and lestrade staring at my friend with amazement,expectation, and derision chasing each other

across his features. holmes stood before us with the air of a conjurerwho is performing a trick. “would you kindly send one of your constablesfor two buckets of water? put the straw on the floor here, free fromthe wall on either side. now i think that we are all ready.” lestrade’s face had begun to grow red andangry. “i don’t know whether you are playinga game with us, mr. sherlock holmes,” said “if you know anything, you can surely sayit without all this tomfoolery.” “i assure you, my good lestrade, that ihave an excellent reason for everything that

i do. you may possibly remember that you chaffedme a little some hours ago, when the sun seemed on your side of the hedge, so you must notgrudge me a little pomp and ceremony now. might i ask you, watson, to open that window,and then to put a match to the edge of the straw?” i did so, and, driven by the draught, a coilof grey smoke swirled down the corridor, while the dry straw crackled and flamed. “now we must see if we can find this witnessfor you, lestrade. might i ask you all to join in the cry of‘fire!’?

now, then; one, two, three—”“fire!” we all yelled. “thank you. i will trouble you once again.” “fire!” “just once more, gentlemen, and all together.” the shout must have rung over norwood. it had hardly died away when an amazing thinghappened. a door suddenly flew open out of what appearedto be solid wall at the end of the corridor, and a little, wizened man darted out of it,like a rabbit out of its burrow.

“capital!” said holmes, calmly. “watson, a bucket of water over the straw. that will do! lestrade, allow me to present you with yourprincipal missing witness, mr. jonas oldacre.” the detective stared at the new-comer withblank amazement. the latter was blinking in the bright lightof the corridor, and peering at us and at the smouldering fire. it was an odious face—crafty, vicious, malignant,with shifty, light-grey eyes and white eyelashes. “what’s this, then?” said lestrade atlast.

“what have you been doing all this time,eh?” oldacre gave an uneasy laugh, shrinking backfrom the furious red face of the angry detective. “i have done no harm.” “no harm? you have done your best to get an innocentman hanged. if it wasn’t for this gentleman here, iam not sure that you would not have succeeded.” the wretched creature began to whimper. “i am sure, sir, it was only my practicaljoke.” “oh! a joke, was it?

you won’t find the laugh on your side, ipromise you. take him down and keep him in the sitting-roomuntil i come. mr. holmes,” he continued, when they hadgone, “i could not speak before the constables, but i don’t mind saying, in the presenceof dr. watson, that this is the brightest thing that you have done yet, though it isa mystery to me how you did it. you have saved an innocent man’s life, andyou have prevented a very grave scandal, which would have ruined my reputation in the force.” holmes smiled and clapped lestrade upon theshoulder. “instead of being ruined, my good sir, youwill find that your reputation has been enormously

enhanced. just make a few alterations in that reportwhich you were writing, and they will understand how hard it is to throw dust in the eyes ofinspector lestrade.” “and you don’t want your name to appear?” “not at all. the work is its own reward. perhaps i shall get the credit also at somedistant day when i permit my zealous historian to lay out his foolscap once more—eh, watson? well, now, let us see where this rat has beenlurking.”

a lath-and-plaster partition had been runacross the passage six feet from the end, with a door cunningly concealed in it. it was lit within by slits under the eaves. a few articles of furniture and a supply offood and water were within, together with a number of books and papers. “there’s the advantage of being a builder,”said holmes, as we came out. “he was able to fix up his own little hiding-placewithout any confederate—save, of course, that precious housekeeper of his, whom i shouldlose no time in adding to your bag, lestrade.” “i’ll take your advice.

but how did you know of this place, mr. holmes?” “i made up my mind that the fellow was inhiding in the house. when i paced one corridor and found it sixfeet shorter than the corresponding one below, it was pretty clear where he was. i thought he had not the nerve to lie quietbefore an alarm of fire. we could, of course, have gone in and takenhim, but it amused me to make him reveal himself; besides, i owed you a little mystification,lestrade, for your chaff in the morning.” “well, sir, you certainly got equal withme on that. but how in the world did you know that hewas in the house at all?”

“the thumb-mark, lestrade. you said it was final; and so it was, in avery different sense. i knew it had not been there the day before. i pay a good deal of attention to mattersof detail, as you may have observed, and i had examined the hall and was sure that thewall was clear. therefore, it had been put on during the night.” “but how?” “very simply. when those packets were sealed up, jonas oldacregot mcfarlane to secure one of the seals by

putting his thumb upon the soft wax. it would be done so quickly and so naturallythat i dare say the young man himself has no recollection of it. very likely it just so happened, and oldacrehad himself no notion of the use he would put it to. brooding over the case in that den of his,it suddenly struck him what absolutely damning evidence he could make against mcfarlane byusing that thumb-mark. it was the simplest thing in the world forhim to take a wax impression from the seal, to moisten it in as much blood as he couldget from a pin-prick, and to put the mark

upon the wall during the night, either withhis own hand or with that of his housekeeper. if you examine among those documents whichhe took with him into his retreat i will lay you a wager that you find the seal with thethumb-mark upon it.” “wonderful!” said lestrade. “wonderful! it’s all as clear as crystal, as you putit. but what is the object of this deep deception,mr. holmes?” it was amusing to me to see how the detective’soverbearing manner had changed suddenly to that of a child asking questions of its teacher.

“well, i don’t think that is very hardto explain. a very deep, malicious, vindictive personis the gentleman who is now awaiting us downstairs. you know that he was once refused by mcfarlane’smother? you don’t! i told you that you should go to blackheathfirst and norwood afterwards. well, this injury, as he would consider it,has rankled in his wicked, scheming brain, and all his life he has longed for vengeance,but never seen his chance. during the last year or two things have goneagainst him— secret speculation, i think—and he finds himself in a bad way.

he determines to swindle his creditors, andfor this purpose he pays large cheques to a certain mr. cornelius, who is, i imagine,himself under another name. i have not traced these cheques yet, but ihave no doubt that they were banked under that name at some provincial town where oldacrefrom time to time led a double existence. he intended to change his name altogether,draw this money, and vanish, starting life again elsewhere.” “well, that’s likely enough.” “it would strike him that in disappearinghe might throw all pursuit off his track, and at the same time have an ample and crushingrevenge upon his old sweetheart, if he could

give the impression that he had been murderedby her only child. it was a masterpiece of villainy, and he carriedit out like a master. the idea of the will, which would give anobvious motive for the crime, the secret visit to his own parents, the retention of the stick,the blood, and the animal remains and buttons in the wood-pile, all were admirable. it was a net from which it seemed to me afew hours ago that there was no possible escape. but he had not that supreme gift of the artist,the knowledge of when to stop. he wished to improve that which was alreadyperfect— to draw the rope tighter yet round the neck of his unfortunate victim—and sohe ruined all.

let us descend, lestrade. there are just one or two questions that iwould ask him.” the malignant creature was seated in his ownparlour with a policeman upon each side of him. “it was a joke, my good sir, a practicaljoke, nothing more,” he whined incessantly. “i assure you, sir, that i simply concealedmyself in order to see the effect of my disappearance, and i am sure that you would not be so unjustas to imagine that i would have allowed any harm to befall poor young mr. mcfarlane.” “that’s for a jury to decide,” saidlestrade.

“anyhow, we shall have you on a charge ofconspiracy, if not for attempted murder.” “and you’ll probably find that your creditorswill impound the banking account of mr. cornelius,” said holmes. the little man started and turned his malignanteyes upon my friend. “i have to thank you for a good deal,”said he. “perhaps i’ll pay my debt some day.” holmes smiled indulgently. “i fancy that for some few years you willfind your time very fully occupied,” said “by the way, what was it you put into thewood-pile besides your old trousers?

a dead dog, or rabbits, or what? you won’t tell? dear me, how very unkind of you! well, well, i dare say that a couple of rabbitswould account both for the blood and for the charred ashes. if ever you write an account, watson, youcan make rabbits serve your turn.”

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