“An idea—an indication, no more. But the case certainly growsin interest. Unique, perfectly unique, and yet why not? I do notsee any indications of bleeding on the line.”
“There were hardly any.”
“But I understand that there was a considerable wound.”
“The bone was crushed, but there was no great external injury.”
“And yet one would have expected some bleeding. Would it bepossible for me to inspect the train which contained the passengerwho heard the thud of a fall in the fog?”
“I fear not, Mr. Holmes. The train has been broken up beforenow, and the carriages redistributed.”
“I can assure you, Mr. Holmes,” said Lestrade, “that everycarriage has been carefully examined. I saw to it myself.”
It was one of my friend’s most obvious weaknesses that he wasimpatient with less alert intelligences than his own.
“Very likely,” said he, turning away. “As it happens, it was not thecarriages which I desired to examine. Watson, we have done allwe can here. We need not trouble you any further, Mr. Lestrade. Ithink our investigations must now carry us to Woolwich.”
At London Bridge, Holmes wrote a telegram to his brother,which he handed to me before dispatching it. It ran thus:
See some light in the darkness, but it may possibly flicker out.
Meanwhile, please send by messenger, to await return at BakerStreet, a complete list of all foreign spies or international agentsknown to be in England, with full address.
Sherlock.
“That should be helpful, Watson,” he remarked as we took ourseats in the Woolwich train. “We certainly owe Brother Mycroft adebt for having introduced us to what promises to be a really veryremarkable case.”
His eager face still wore that expression of intense and highstrungenergy, which showed me that some novel and suggestivecircumstance had opened up a stimulating line of thought. See thefoxhound with hanging ears and drooping tail as it lolls about thekennels, and compare it with the same hound as, with gleamingeyes and straining muscles, it runs upon a breast-high scent—suchwas the change in Holmes since the morning. He was a differentman from the limp and lounging figure in the mouse-coloureddressing-gown who had prowled so restlessly only a few hoursbefore round the fog-girt room.
“There is material here. There is scope,” said he. “I am dullindeed not to have understood its possibilities.”
“Even now they are dark to me.”
“The end is dark to me also, but I have hold of one idea whichThe Adventure of Wisteria Lodge 1155
may lead us far. The man met his death elsewhere, and his bodywas on the ROOF of a carriage.”
“On the roof!”
“Remarkable, is it not? But consider the facts. Is it a coincidencethat it is found at the very point where the train pitches and swaysas it comes round on the points? Is not that the place where anobject upon the roof might be expected to fall off? The pointswould affect no object inside the train. Either the body fell fromthe roof, or a very curious coincidence has occurred. But nowconsider the question of the blood. Of course, there was nobleeding on the line if the body had bled elsewhere. Each fact issuggestive in itself. Together they have a cumulative force.”
“And the ticket, too!” I cried.
“Exactly. We could not explain the absence of a ticket. Thiswould explain it. Everything fits together.”
“But suppose it were so, we are still as far as ever from unravellingthe mystery of his death. Indeed, it becomes not simpler butstranger.”
“Perhaps,” said Holmes, thoughtfully, “perhaps.” He relapsedinto a silent reverie, which lasted until the slow train drew up atlast in Woolwich Station. There he called a cab and drew Mycroft’spaper from his pocket.
“We have quite a little round of afternoon calls to make,” saidhe. “I think that Sir James Walter claims our first attention.”
The house of the famous official was a fine villa with greenlawns stretching down to the Thames. As we reached it the fogwas lifting, and a thin, watery sunshine was breaking through. Abutler answered our ring.
“Sir James, sir!” said he with solemn face. “Sir James died thismorning.”
“Good heavens!” cried Holmes in amazement. “How did hedie?”
“Perhaps you would care to step in, sir, and see his brother,Colonel Valentine?”
“Yes, we had best do so.”
We were ushered into a dim-lit drawing-room, where an instantlater we were joined by a very tall, handsome, light-beared manof fifty, the younger brother of the dead scientist. His wild eyes,stained cheeks, and unkempt hair all spoke of the sudden blowwhich had fallen upon the household. He was hardly articulate ashe spoke of it.
“It was this horrible scandal,” said he. “My brother, Sir James,was a man of very sensitive honour, and he could not survivesuch an affair. It broke his heart. He was always so proud of theefficiency of his department, and this was a crushing blow.”
The Complete Sherlock Holmes
“We had hoped that he might have given us some indicationswhich would have helped us to clear the matter up.”
“I assure you that it was all a mystery to him as it is to you andto all of us. He had already put all his knowledge at the disposalof the police. Naturally he had no doubt that Cadogan West wasguilty. But all the rest was inconceivable.”
“You cannot throw any new light upon the affair?”
“I know nothing myself save what I have read or heard. I haveno desire to be discourteous, but you can understand, Mr. Holmes,that we are much disturbed at present, and I must ask you tohasten this interview to an end.”
“This is indeed an unexpected development,” said my friendwhen we had regained the cab. “I wonder if the death was natural,or whether the poor old fellow killed himself! If the latter, maybe taken as some sign of self-reproach for duty neglected? Wemust leave that question to the future. Now we shall turn to theCadogan Wests.”
