“I think there will be no difficulty in clearing it up,” saidLestrade, grimly.
“None the less, with your permission, I should be muchinterested to hear his account.”
“Well, Mr. Holmes, it is difficult for me to refuse you anything,for you have been of use to the force once or twice in the past, andwe owe you a good turn at Scotland Yard,” said Lestrade. “At thesame time I must remain with my prisoner, and I am bound to warnhim that anything he may say will appear in evidence against him.”
“I wish nothing better,” said our client. “All I ask is that youshould hear and recognize the 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 ofMr. 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, when yesterday, about threeo’clock in the afternoon, he walked into my office in the city. ButI was still more astonished when he told me the object of his visit.
He had in his hand several sheets of a notebook, covered withscribbled writing—here they are—and he laid them on my table.
“ ‘Here is my will,’ said he. ‘I want you, Mr. McFarlane, to cast itinto proper legal shape. I will sit here while you do so.’
“I set myself to copy it, and you can imagine my astonishmentwhen I found that, with some reservations, he had left all hisproperty to me. He was a strange little ferret-like man, with whiteeyelashes, and when I looked up at him I found his keen gray eyesfixed upon me with an amused expression. I could hardly believemy own as I read the terms of the will; but he explained that hewas a bachelor with hardly any living relation, that he had knownmy parents in his youth, and that he had always heard of me asa very deserving young man, and was assured that his moneywould be in worthy hands. Of course, I could only stammer outmy thanks. The will was duly finished, signed, and witnessed bymy clerk. This is it on the blue paper, and these slips, as I haveexplained, are the rough draft. Mr. Jonas Oldacre then informedme that there were a number of documents—building leases, titledeeds,mortgages, scrip, and so forth—which it was necessary thatI should see and understand. He said that his mind would not beeasy until the whole thing was settled, and he begged me to comeout to his house at Norwood that night, 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 itas a little surprise for them.’ He was very insistent upon this point,and made me promise it faithfully.
“You can imagine, Mr. Holmes, that I was not in a humour torefuse him anything that he might ask. He was my benefactor, andall my desire was to carry out his wishes in every particular. I senta telegram home, therefore, to say that I had important businesson hand, and that it was impossible for me to say how late I mightbe. Mr. Oldacre had told me that he would like me to have supperwith him at nine, as he might not be home before that hour. I hadsome difficulty in finding his house, however, and it was nearlyhalf-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 mentioned your name?”
“Exactly,” said McFarlane.
“Pray proceed.”
McFarlane wiped his damp brow, and then continued hisnarrative:
“I was shown by this woman into a sitting-room, where a frugalsupper was laid out. Afterwards, Mr. Jonas Oldacre led me into hisbedroom, in which there stood a heavy safe. This he opened andtook out a mass of documents, which we went over together. It wasbetween eleven and twelve when we finished. He remarked that wemust not disturb the housekeeper. He showed me out through hisown French window, which had been open all this time.”
“Was the blind down?” asked Holmes.
“I will not be sure, but I believe that it was only half down.
Yes, I remember how he pulled it up in order to swing open thewindow. I could not find my stick, and he said, ‘Never mind, myboy, I shall see a good deal of you now, I hope, and I will keep yourstick until you come back to claim it.’ I left him there, the safeopen, and the papers made up in packets upon the table. It was solate that I could not get back to Blackheath, so I spent the nightat the Anerley Arms, and I knew nothing more until I read of thishorrible affair in the morning.”
“Anything more that you would like to ask, Mr. Holmes?” saidLestrade, whose eyebrows had gone up once or twice during thisremarkable explanation.
“Not until I have been to Blackheath.”
“You mean to Norwood,” said Lestrade.
“Oh, yes, no doubt that is what I must have meant,” saidHolmes, with his enigmatical smile. Lestrade had learned by moreexperiences than he would care to acknowledge that that braincould cut through that which was impenetrable to him. I saw himlook curiously at my companion.
“I think I should like to have a word with you presently, Mr.
Sherlock Holmes,” said he. “Now, Mr. McFarlane, two of myconstables are at the door, and there is a four-wheeler waiting.”
The wretched young man arose, and with a last beseeching glanceat us walked from the room. The officers conducted him to thecab, but Lestrade remained.
Holmes had picked up the pages which formed the rough draftof the will, and was looking at them with the keenest interestupon his face.
“There are some points about that document, Lestrade, arethere not?” said he, pushing them over.
The official looked at them with a puzzled expression.
“I can read the first few lines and these in the middle of thesecond page, and one or two at the end. Those are as clear asprint,” said he, “but the writing in between is very bad, and thereare three places where I cannot read it at all.”
“What do you make of that?” said Holmes.
“Well, what do you make of it?”