“Well, I don’t think that is very hard to explain. A very deep,malicious, vindictive person is the gentleman who is now waitingus 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 wouldconsider it, has rankled in his wicked, scheming brain, and allhis life he has longed for vengeance, but never seen his chance.
During the last year or two, things have gone against him—secretspeculation, I think—and he finds himself in a bad way. Hedetermines to swindle his creditors, and for this purpose he payslarge checks to a certain Mr. Cornelius, who is, I imagine, himselfunder another name. I have not traced these checks yet, but Ihave no doubt that they were banked under that name at someprovincial town where Oldacre from time to time led a doubleexistence. He intended to change his name altogether, draw thismoney, and vanish, starting life again elsewhere.”
“Well, that’s likely enough.”
“It would strike him that in disappearing he might throw allpursuit off his track, and at the same time have an ample andcrushing revenge upon his old sweetheart, if he could give theimpression that he had been murdered by her only child. It wasa masterpiece of villainy, and he carried it out like a master. Theidea of the will, which would give an obvious motive for the crime,the secret visit unknown to his own parents, the retention of thestick, the blood, and the animal remains and buttons in the woodpile,all were admirable. It was a net from which it seemed to me,a few hours ago, that there was no possible escape. But he had notthat supreme gift of the artist, the knowledge of when to stop. Hewished to improve that which was already perfect—to draw therope tighter yet round the neck of his unfortunate victim—and sohe ruined all. Let us descend, Lestrade. There are just one or twoquestions that I would ask him.”
The malignant creature was seated in his own parlour, with apoliceman upon each side of him.
“It was a joke, my good sir—a practical joke, nothing more,”
he whined incessantly. “I assure you, sir, that I simply concealedmyself in order to see the effect of my disappearance, and I amsure that you would not be so unjust as to imagine that I wouldhave allowed any harm to befall poor young Mr. McFarlane.”
“That’s for a jury to decide,” said Lestrade. “Anyhow, we shallhave you on a charge of conspiracy, if not for attempted murder.”
“And you’ll probably find that your creditors will impound thebanking account of Mr. Cornelius,” said Holmes.
The little man started, and turned his malignant eyes upon myfriend.
“I have to thank you for a good deal,” said he. “Perhaps I’ll paymy debt some day.”
Holmes smiled indulgently.
“I fancy that, for some few years, you will find your time veryfully occupied,” said he. “By the way, what was it you put intothe wood-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 daresay that a couple of rabbits would account both forthe blood and for the charred ashes. If ever you write an account,Watson, you can make rabbits serve your turn.”
The Adventure of the Dancing Men
Holmes had been seated for some hours in silence with his long,thin back curved over a chemical vessel in which he was brewinga particularly malodorous product. His head was sunk upon hisbreast, and he looked from my point of view like a strange, lankbird, with dull gray plumage and a black top-knot.
“So, Watson,” said he, suddenly, “you do not propose to invest inSouth African securities?”
I gave a start of astonishment. Accustomed as I was to Holmes’scurious faculties, this sudden intrusion into my most intimatethoughts was utterly inexplicable.
“How on earth do you know that?” I asked.
He wheeled round upon his stool, with a steaming test-tube inhis hand, and a gleam of amusement in his deep-set eyes.
“Now, Watson, confess yourself utterly taken aback,” said he.
“I am.”
“I ought to make you sign a paper to that effect.”
“Why?”
“Because in five minutes you will say that it is all so absurdlysimple.”
“I am sure that I shall say nothing of the kind.”
“You see, my dear Watson,” —he propped his test-tube in therack, and began to lecture with the air of a professor addressinghis class— “it is not really difficult to construct a series ofinferences, each dependent upon its predecessor and each simplein itself. If, after doing so, one simply knocks out all the centralinferences and presents one’s audience with the starting-pointand the conclusion, one may produce a startling, though possiblya meretricious, effect. Now, it was not really difficult, by aninspection of the groove between your left forefinger and thumb,to feel sure that you did not propose to invest your small capital inthe gold fields.”
“I see no connection.”
“Very likely not; but I can quickly show you a close connection.
Here are the missing links of the very simple chain: 1. You hadchalk between your left finger and thumb when you returned fromthe club last night. 2. You put chalk there when you play billiards,to steady the cue. 3. You never play billiards except with Thurston.
4. You told me, four weeks ago, that Thurston had an option onsome South African property which would expire in a month, andwhich he desired you to share with him. 5. Your check book islocked in my drawer, and you have not asked for the key. 6. You donot propose to invest your money in this manner.”
“How absurdly simple!” I cried.
“Quite so!” said he, a little nettled. “Every problem becomes verychildish when once it is explained to you. Here is an unexplainedone. See what you can make of that, friend Watson.” He tosseda sheet of paper upon the table, and turned once more to hischemical analysis.
I looked with amazement at the absurd hieroglyphics upon thepaper.
“Why, Holmes, it is a child’s drawing,” I cried.
“Oh, that’s your idea!”
“What else should it be?”