“Good-mornin’, Masser Holmes. I hope there ain’t no hardfeelin’s about this ’ere visit?”
“There will be unless you tell me who sent you.”
“Why, there ain’t no secret about that, Masser Holmes. It wasthat same gen’l’man that you have just done gone mention.”
“And who set him on to it?”
“S’elp me. I don’t know, Masser Holmes. He just say, ‘Steve, yougo see Mr. Holmes, and tell him his life ain’t safe if he go downHarrow way.’ That’s the whole truth.” Without waiting for anyfurther questioning, our visitor bolted out of the room almost asprecipitately as he had entered. Holmes knocked out the ashes ofhis pipe with a quiet chuckle.
“I am glad you were not forced to break his woolly head,Watson. I observed your manoeuvres with the poker. But he isreally rather a harmless fellow, a great muscular, foolish, blusteringbaby, and easily cowed, as you have seen. He is one of the SpencerJohn gang and has taken part in some dirty work of late which Imay clear up when I have time. His immediate principal, Barney,is a more astute person. They specialize in assaults, intimidation,and the like. What I want to know is, who is at the back of themon this particular occasion?”
“But why do they want to intimidate you?”
“It is this Harrow Weald case. It decides me to look into thematter, for if it is worth anyone’s while to take so much trouble,there must be something in it.”
“But what is it?”
“I was going to tell you when we had this comic interlude. Hereis Mrs. Maberley’s note. If you care to come with me we will wireher and go out at once.”
DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES [I read]:
I have had a succession of strange incidents occur to me inconnection with this house, and I should much value your advice.
You would find me at home any time to-morrow. The house iswithin a short walk of the Weald Station. I believe that my latehusband, Mortimer Maberley, was one of your early clients.
Yours faithfully,
MARY MABERLEY.
The address was “The Three Gables, Harrow Weald.”
“So that’s that!” said Holmes. “And now, if you can spare thetime, Watson, we will get upon our way.”
A short railway journey, and a shorter drive, brought us tothe house, a brick and timber villa, standing in its own acre ofundeveloped grassland. Three small projections above the upperwindows made a feeble attempt to justify its name. Behind was agrove of melancholy, half-grown pines, and the whole aspect of theplace was poor and depressing. None the less, we found the house tobe well furnished, and the lady who received us was a most engagingelderly person, who bore every mark of refinement and culture.
“I remember your husband well, madam,” said Holmes, “thoughit is some years since he used my services in some trifling matter.”
“Probably you would be more familiar with the name of my sonDouglas.”
Holmes looked at her with great interest.
“Dear me! Are you the mother of Douglas Maberley? I knew himslightly. But of course all London knew him. What a magnificentcreature he was! Where is he now?”
“Dead, Mr. Holmes, dead! He was attache at Rome, and he diedthere of pneumonia last month.”
“I am sorry. One could not connect death with such a man. Ihave never known anyone so vitally alive. He lived intensely—every fibre of him!”
“Too intensely, Mr. Holmes. That was the ruin of him. Youremember him as he was—debonair and splendid. You did not seethe moody, morose, brooding creature into which he developed.
His heart was broken. In a single month I seemed to see mygallant boy turn into a worn-out cynical man.”
“A love affair—a woman?”
“Or a fiend. Well, it was not to talk of my poor lad that I askedyou to come, Mr. Holmes.”
“Dr. Watson and I are at your service.”
“There have been some very strange happenings. I have been inthis house more than a year now, and as I wished to lead a retiredlife I have seen little of my neighbours. Three days ago I had a callfrom a man who said that he was a house agent. He said that thishouse would exactly suit a client of his, and that if I would partwith it money would be no object. It seemed to me very strangeas there are several empty houses on the market which appear tobe equally eligible, but naturally I was interested in what he said.
I therefore named a price which was five hundred pounds morethan I gave. He at once closed with the offer, but added that hisclient desired to buy the furniture as well and would I put a priceupon it. Some of this furniture is from my old home, and it is, asyou see, very good, so that I named a good round sum. To this alsohe at once agreed. I had always wanted to travel, and the bargainwas so good a one that it really seemed that I should be my ownmistress for the rest of my life.
“Yesterday the man arrived with the agreement all drawn out.
Luckily I showed it to Mr. Sutro, my lawyer, who lives in Harrow.
He said to me, ‘This is a very strange document. Are you awarethat if you sign it you could not legally take anything out of thehouse—not even your own private possessions?’ When the mancame again in the evening I pointed this out, and I said that Imeant only to sell the furniture.
“ ‘No, no, everything,’ said he.
“ ‘But my clothes? My jewels?’
“ ‘Well, well, some concession might be made for your personaleffects. But nothing shall go out of the house unchecked. Myclient is a very liberal man, but he has his fads and his own way ofdoing things. It is everything or nothing with him.’
“ ‘Then it must be nothing,’ said I. And there the matter wasleft, but the whole thing seemed to me to be so unusual that Ithought—”
Here we had a very extraordinary interruption.
Holmes raised his hand for silence. Then he strode across theroom, flung open the door, and dragged in a great gaunt womanwhom he had seized by the shoulder. She entered with ungainlystruggle like some huge awkward chicken, torn, squawking, out ofits coop.
“Leave me alone! What are you a-doin’ of?” she screeched.
“Why, Susan, what is this?”
“Well, ma’am, I was comin’ in to ask if the visitors was stayin’
for lunch when this man jumped out at me.”