“Yes, and they were the best of friends at one time. Why, shewent up there to live in order to be near them. And now she hasno word hard enough for Jim Browner. The last six months thatshe was here she would speak of nothing but his drinking and hisways. He had caught her meddling, I suspect, and given her a bitof his mind, and that was the start of it.”
“Thank you, Miss Cushing,” said Holmes, rising and bowing.
“Your sister Sarah lives, I think you said, at New Street,Wallington? Good-bye, and I am very sorry that you should havebeen troubled over a case with which, as you say, you have nothingwhatever to do.”
There was a cab passing as we came out, and Holmes hailed it.
“How far to Wallington?” he asked.
“Only about a mile, sir.”
“Very good. Jump in, Watson. We must strike while the ironis hot. Simple as the case is, there have been one or two veryinstructive details in connection with it. Just pull up at a telegraphoffice as you pass, cabby.”
Holmes sent off a short wire and for the rest of the drive layback in the cab, with his hat tilted over his nose to keep the sunfrom his face. Our drive pulled up at a house which was not unlikethe one which we had just quitted. My companion ordered him towait, and had his hand upon the knocker, when the door openedand a grave young gentleman in black, with a very shiny hat,appeared on the step.
“Is Miss Cushing at home?” asked Holmes.
“Miss Sarah Cushing is extremely ill,” said he. “She has beensuffering since yesterday from brain symptoms of great severity.
As her medical adviser, I cannot possibly take the responsibility ofallowing anyone to see her. I should recommend you to call againin ten days.” He drew on his gloves, closed the door, and marchedoff down the street.
“Well, if we can’t we can’t,” said Holmes, cheerfully.
“Perhaps she could not or would not have told you much.”
“I did not wish her to tell me anything. I only wanted to look ather. However, I think that I have got all that I want. Drive us to somedecent hotel, cabby, where we may have some lunch, and afterwardswe shall drop down upon friend Lestrade at the police-station.”
We had a pleasant little meal together, during which Holmeswould talk about nothing but violins, narrating with greatexultation how he had purchased his own Stradivarius, which wasworth at least five hundred guineas, at a Jew broker’s in TottenhamCourt Road for fifty-five shillings. This led him to Paganini,and we sat for an hour over a bottle of claret while he told meanecdote after anecdote of that extraordinary man. The afternoonwas far advanced and the hot glare had softened into a mellowglow before we found ourselves at the police-station. Lestrade waswaiting for us at the door.
“A telegram for you, Mr. Holmes,” said he.
“Ha! It is the answer!” He tore it open, glanced his eyes over it,and crumpled it into his pocket. “That’s all right,” said he.
“Have you found out anything?”
“I have found out everything!”
“What!” Lestrade stared at him in amazement. “You are joking.”
“I was never more serious in my life. A shocking crime has beencommitted, and I think I have now laid bare every detail of it.”
“And the criminal?”
Holmes scribbled a few words upon the back of one of his visitingcards and threw it over to Lestrade.
“That is the name,” he said. “You cannot effect an arrest untilto-morrow night at the earliest. I should prefer that you do notmention my name at all in connection with the case, as I choose tobe only associated with those crimes which present some difficultyin their solution. Come on, Watson.” We strode off together to thestation, leaving Lestrade still staring with a delighted face at thecard which Holmes had thrown him.
“The case,” said Sherlock Holmes as we chatted over our cigarsthat night in our rooms at Baker Street, “is one where, as inthe investigations which you have chronicled under the namesof ‘A Study in Scarlet’ and of ‘The Sign of Four,’ we have beencompelled to reason backward from effects to causes. I havewritten to Lestrade asking him to supply us with the details whichare now wanting, and which he will only get after he has securedhis man. That he may be safely trusted to do, for although he isabsolutely devoid of reason, he is as tenacious as a bulldog whenhe once understands what he has to do, and indeed, it is just thistenacity which has brought him to the top at Scotland Yard.”
“Your case is not complete, then?” I asked.
“It is fairly complete in essentials. We know who the author ofthe revolting business is, although one of the victims still escapesus. Of course, you have formed your own conclusions.”
“I presume that this Jim Browner, the steward of a Liverpoolboat, is the man whom you suspect?”
“Oh! it is more than a suspicion.”
“And yet I cannot see anything save very vague indications.”
“On the contrary, to my mind nothing could be more clear.
Let me run over the principal steps. We approached the case,you remember, with an absolutely blank mind, which is always anadvantage. We had formed no theories. We were simply there toobserve and to draw inferences from our observations. What didwe see first? A very placid and respectable lady, who seemed quiteinnocent of any secret, and a portrait which showed me that shehad two younger sisters. It instantly flashed across my mind thatthe box might have been meant for one of these. I set the ideaaside as one which could be disproved or confirmed at our leisure.
Then we went to the garden, as you remember, and we saw thevery singular contents of the little yellow box.
“The string was of the quality which is used by sailmakersaboard ship, and at once a whiff of the sea was perceptible in ourinvestigation. When I observed that the knot was one which ispopular with sailors, that the parcel had been posted at a port, andthat the male ear was pierced for an earring which is so much morecommon among sailors than landsmen, I was quite certain that all theactors in the tragedy were to be found among our seafaring classes.