He relapsed at once into the half-humorous, half-cynical veinwhich was his habitual attitude to those about him. “It would besuperfluous to drive us mad, my dear Watson,” said he. “A candidobserver would certainly declare that we were so already beforewe embarked upon so wild an experiment. I confess that I neverimagined that the effect could be so sudden and so severe.” Hedashed into the cottage, and, reappearing with the burning lampheld at full arm’s length, he threw it among a bank of brambles. “Wemust give the room a little time to clear. I take it, Watson, thatyou have no longer a shadow of a doubt as to how these tragedieswere produced?”
“None whatever.”
“But the cause remains as obscure as before. Come into thearbour here and let us discuss it together. That villainous stuffseems still to linger round my throat. I think we must admit thatall the evidence points to this man, Mortimer Tregennis, havingbeen the criminal in the first tragedy, though he was the victim inthe second one. We must remember, in the first place, that thereis some story of a family quarrel, followed by a reconciliation.
How bitter that quarrel may have been, or how hollow thereconciliation we cannot tell. When I think of MortimerTregennis, with the foxy face and the small shrewd, beady eyesbehind the spectacles, he is not a man whom I should judge to beof a particularly forgiving disposition. Well, in the next place, youwill remember that this idea of someone moving in the garden,which took our attention for a moment from the real cause ofthe tragedy, emanated from him. He had a motive in misleadingus. Finally, if he did not throw the substance into the fire at themoment of leaving the room, who did do so? The affair happenedimmediately after his departure. Had anyone else come in, thefamily would certainly have risen from the table. Besides, inpeaceful Cornwall, visitors did not arrive after ten o’clock at night.
We may take it, then, that all the evidence points to MortimerTregennis as the culprit.”
“Then his own death was suicide!”
“Well, Watson, it is on the face of it a not impossible supposition.
The man who had the guilt upon his soul of having brought such afate upon his own family might well be driven by remorse to inflictit upon himself. There are, however, some cogent reasons againstit. Fortunately, there is one man in England who knows all aboutit, and I have made arrangements by which we shall hear the factsthis afternoon from his own lips. Ah! he is a little before his time.
Perhaps you would kindly step this way, Dr. Leon Sterndale. Wehave been conducing a chemical experiment indoors which hasleft our little room hardly fit for the reception of so distinguisheda visitor.”
I had heard the click of the garden gate, and now the majesticfigure of the great African explorer appeared upon the path. Heturned in some surprise towards the rustic arbour in which we sat.
“You sent for me, Mr. Holmes. I had your note about an hourago, and I have come, though I really do not know why I shouldobey your summons.”
“Perhaps we can clear the point up before we separate,”
said Holmes. “Meanwhile, I am much obliged to you for yourcourteous acquiescence. You will excuse this informal receptionin the open air, but my friend Watson and I have nearly furnishedan additional chapter to what the papers call the Cornish Horror,and we prefer a clear atmosphere for the present. Perhaps, sincethe matters which we have to discuss will affect you personally in avery intimate fashion, it is as well that we should talk where therecan be no eavesdropping.”
The explorer took his cigar from his lips and gazed sternly at mycompanion.
“I am at a loss to know, sir,” he said, “what you can have to speakabout which affects me personally in a very intimate fashion.”
“The killing of Mortimer Tregennis,” said Holmes.
For a moment I wished that I were armed. Sterndale’s fierce faceturned to a dusky red, his eyes glared, and the knotted, passionateveins started out in his forehead, while he sprang forward withclenched hands towards my companion. Then he stopped, andwith a violent effort he resumed a cold, rigid calmness, which was,perhaps, more suggestive of danger than his hot-headed outburst.
“I have lived so long among savages and beyond the law,” saidhe, “that I have got into the way of being a law to myself. Youwould do well, Mr. Holmes, not to forget it, for I have no desire todo you an injury.”
“Nor have I any desire to do you an injury, Dr. Sterndale. Surelythe clearest proof of it is that, knowing what I know, I have sentfor you and not for the police.”
Sterndale sat down with a gasp, overawed for, perhaps, the firsttime in his adventurous life. There was a calm assurance of powerin Holmes’s manner which could not be withstood. Our visitorstammered for a moment, his great hands opening and shutting inhis agitation.
“What do you mean?” he asked at last. “If this is bluff uponyour part, Mr. Holmes, you have chosen a bad man for yourexperiment. Let us have no more beating about the bush. What doyou mean?”
“I will tell you,” said Holmes, “and the reason why I tell you isthat I hope frankness may beget frankness. What my next stepmay be will depend entirely upon the nature of your own defence.”
“My defence?”
“Yes, sir.”
“My defence against what?”
“Against the charge of killing Mortimer Tregennis.”
Sterndale mopped his forehead with his handkerchief. “Uponmy word, you are getting on,” said he. “Do all your successesdepend upon this prodigious power of bluff?”
“The bluff,” said Holmes sternly, “is upon your side, Dr. LeonSterndale, and not upon mine. As a proof I will tell you some ofthe facts upon which my conclusions are based. Of your returnfrom Plymouth, allowing much of your property to go on toAfrica, I will say nothing save that it first informed me that youwere one of the factors which had to be taken into account inreconstructing this drama—”
“I came back—”