“Jacky has very strong likes and dislikes，” said Ferguson， puttinghis arm round the boy. “Luckily I am one of his likes.”
The boy cooed and nestled his head upon his father’s breast.
Ferguson gently disengaged him.
“Run away， little Jacky，” said he， and he watched his son withloving eyes until he disappeared. “Now， Mr. Holmes，” he continuedwhen the boy was gone， “I really feel that I have brought you ona fool’s errand， for what can you possibly do save give me yoursympathy？ It must be an exceedingly delicate and complex affairfrom your point of view.”
“It is certainly delicate，” said my friend with an amused smile，“but I have not been struck up to now with its complexity. Ithas been a case for intellectual deduction， but when this originalintellectual deduction is confirmed point by point by quite anumber of independent incidents， then the subjective becomesobjective and we can say confidently that we have reached ourgoal. I had， in fact， reached it before we left Baker Street， and therest has merely been observation and confirmation.”
Ferguson put his big hand to his furrowed forehead.
“For heaven’s sake， Holmes，” he said hoarsely； “if you can see thetruth in this matter， do not keep me in suspense. How do I stand？
What shall I do？ I care nothing as to how you have found yourfacts so long as you have really got them.”
“Certainly I owe you an explanation， and you shall have it. Butyou will permit me to handle the matter in my own way？ Is thelady capable of seeing us， Watson？”
“She is ill， but she is quite rational.”
“Very good. It is only in her presence that we can clear thematter up. Let us go up to her.”
“She will not see me，” cried Ferguson.
“Oh， yes， she will，” said Holmes. He scribbled a few lines upona sheet of paper.“You at least have the entrée， Watson. Will youhave the goodness to give the lady this note？”
I ascended again and handed the note to Dolores， whocautiously opened the door. A minute later I heard a cry fromwithin， a cry in which joy and surprise seemed to be blended.
Dolores looked out.
“She will see them. She will leesten，” said she.
At my summons Ferguson and Holmes came up. As we enteredthe room Ferguson took a step or two towards his wife， who hadraised herself in the bed， but she held out her hand to repulse him.
He sank into an armchair， while Holmes seated himself besidehim， after bowing to the lady， who looked at him with wide-eyedamazement.
“I think we can dispense with Dolores，” said Holmes. “Oh，very well， madame， if you would rather she stayed I can see noobjection. Now， Mr. Ferguson， I am a busy man with many calls，and my methods have to be short and direct. The swiftest surgeryis the least painful. Let me first say what will ease your mind. Yourwife is a very good， a very loving， and a very ill-used woman.”
Ferguson sat up with a cry of joy.
“Prove that， Mr. Holmes， and I am your debtor forever.”
“I will do so， but in doing so I must wound you deeply inanother direction.”
“I care nothing so long as you clear my wife. Everything onearth is insignificant compared to that.”
“Let me tell you， then， the train of reasoning which passedthrough my mind in Baker Street. The idea of a vampire was to meabsurd. Such things do not happen in criminal practice in England.
And yet your observation was precise. You had seen the lady risefrom beside the child’s cot with the blood upon her lips.”
“I did.”
“Did it not occur to you that a bleeding wound may be suckedfor some other purpose than to draw the blood from it？ Was therenot a queen in English history who sucked such a wound to drawpoison from it？”
“Poison！”
“A South American household. My instinct felt the presence ofthose weapons upon the wall before my eyes ever saw them. Itmight have been other poison， but that was what occurred to me.
When I saw that little empty quiver beside the small bird-bow， itwas just what I expected to see. If the child were pricked with oneof those arrows dipped in curare or some other devilish drug， itwould mean death if the venom were not sucked out.
“And the dog！ If one were to use such a poison， would one nottry it first in order to see that it had not lost its power？ I did notforesee the dog， but at least I understand him and he fitted intomy reconstruction.
“Now do you understand？ Your wife feared such an attack. Shesaw it made and saved the child’s life， and yet she shrank fromtelling you all the truth， for she knew how you loved the boy andfeared lest it break your heart.”
“Jacky！”
“I watched him as you fondled the child just now. His face wasclearly reflected in the glass of the window where the shutterformed a background. I saw such jealousy， such cruel hatred， as Ihave seldom seen in a human face.”
“My Jacky！”
“You have to face it， Mr. Ferguson. It is the more painfulbecause it is a distorted love， a maniacal exaggerated love for you，and possibly for his dead mother， which has prompted his action.
His very soul is consumed with hatred for this splendid child，whose health and beauty are a contrast to his own weakness.”
“Good God！ It is incredible！”
“Have I spoken the truth， madame？”
The lady was sobbing， with her face buried in the pillows. Nowshe turned to her husband.
“How could I tell you， Bob？ I felt the blow it would be to you. Itwas better that I should wait and that it should come from someother lips than mine. When this gentleman， who seems to havepowers of magic， wrote that he knew all， I was glad.”
“I think a year at sea would be my prescription for MasterJacky，” said Holmes， rising from his chair. “Only one thing is stillclouded， madame. We can quite understand your attacks uponMaster Jacky. There is a limit to a mother’s patience. But how didyou dare to leave the child these last two days？”
“I had told Mrs. Mason. She knew.”
“Exactly. So I imagined.”
Ferguson was standing by the bed， choking， his hands outstretchedand quivering.