“Elementary,” said he. “It is one of those instances where thereasoner can produce an effect which seems remarkable to hisneighbor, because the latter has missed the one little point which isthe basis of the deduction. The same may be said, my dear fellow, forthe effect of some of these little sketches of yours, which is entirelymeretricious, depending as it does upon your retaining in your ownhands some factors in the problem which are never imparted to thereader. Now, at present I am in the position of these same readers,for I hold in this hand several threads of one of the strangest caseswhich ever perplexed a man’s brain, and yet I lack the one or twowhich are needful to complete my theory. But I’ll have them, Watson,I’ll have them!” His eyes kindled and a slight flush sprang into histhin cheeks. For an instant only. When I glanced again his facehad resumed that red-Indian composure which had made so manyregard him as a machine rather than a man.
“The problem presents features of interest,” said he. “I mayeven say exceptional features of interest. I have already lookedinto the matter, and have come, as I think, within sight of mysolution. If you could accompany me in that last step you might beof considerable service to me.”
“I should be delighted.”
“Could you go as far as Aldershot to-morrow?”
“I have no doubt Jackson would take my practice.”
“Very good. I want to start by the 11: 10 from Waterloo.”
“That would give me time.”
“Then, if you are not too sleepy, I will give you a sketch of whathas happened, and of what remains to be done.”
“I was sleepy before you came. I am quite wakeful now.”
“I will compress the story as far as may be done withoutomitting anything vital to the case. It is conceivable that you mayeven have read some account of the matter. It is the supposedmurder of Colonel Barclay, of the Royal Munsters, at Aldershot,which I am investigating.”
“I have heard nothing of it.”
“It has not excited much attention yet, except locally. The factsare only two days old. Briefly they are these:
“The Royal Munsters is, as you know, one of the most famousIrish regiments in the British army. It did wonders both in theCrimea and the Mutiny, and has since that time distinguisheditself upon every possible occasion. It was commanded up toMonday night by James Barclay, a gallant veteran, who started asa full private, was raised to commissioned rank for his bravery atthe time of the Mutiny, and so lived to command the regiment inwhich he had once carried a musket.
“Colonel Barclay had married at the time when he was asergeant, and his wife, whose maiden name was Miss NancyDevoy, was the daughter of a former color-sergeant in the samecorps. There was, therefore, as can be imagined, some little socialfriction when the young couple (for they were still young) foundthemselves in their new surroundings. They appear, however, tohave quickly adapted themselves, and Mrs. Barclay has always,I understand, been as popular with the ladies of the regiment asher husband was with his brother officers. I may add that she wasa woman of great beauty, and that even now, when she has beenmarried for upwards of thirty years, she is still of a striking andqueenly appearance.
“Colonel Barclay’s family life appears to have been a uniformlyhappy one. Major Murphy, to whom I owe most of my facts,assures me that he has never heard of any misunderstandingbetween the pair. On the whole, he thinks that Barclay’s devotionto his wife was greater than his wife’s to Barclay. He was acutelyuneasy if he were absent from her for a day. She, on the other hand,though devoted and faithful, was less obtrusively affectionate. Butthey were regarded in the regiment as the very model of a middleagedcouple. There was absolutely nothing in their mutual relationsto prepare people for the tragedy which was to follow.
“Colonel Barclay himself seems to have had some singular traitsin his character. He was a dashing, jovial old soldier in his usualmood, but there were occasions on which he seemed to showhimself capable of considerable violence and vindictiveness. Thisside of his nature, however, appears never to have been turnedtowards his wife. Another fact, which had struck Major Murphyand three out of five of the other officers with whom I conversed,was the singular sort of depression which came upon him at times.
As the major expressed it, the smile had often been struck fromhis mouth, as if by some invisible hand, when he has been joiningthe gayeties and chaff of the mess-table. For days on end, when themood was on him, he has been sunk in the deepest gloom. Thisand a certain tinge of superstition were the only unusual traits inhis character which his brother officers had observed. The latterpeculiarity took the form of a dislike to being left alone, especiallyafter dark. This puerile feature in a nature which was conspicuouslymanly had often given rise to comment and conjecture.
“The first battalion of the Royal Munsters (which is the oldseventeenth) has been stationed at Aldershot for some years. Themarried officers live out of barracks, and the Colonel has during allthis time occupied a villa called Lachine, about half a mile from thenorth camp. The house stands in its own grounds, but the west sideof it is not more than thirty yards from the highroad. A coachmanand two maids form the staff of servants. These with their masterand mistress were the sole occupants of Lachine, for the Barclayshad no children, nor was it usual for them to have resident visitors.
“Now for the events at Lachine between nine and ten on theevening of last Monday.”