“That really seems final.”
“And yet, Watson—and yet! This bridge—a single broad spanof stone with balustraded sides—carries the drive over thenarrowest part of a long, deep, reed-girt sheet of water. ThorMere it is called. In the mouth of the bridge lay the dead woman.
Such are the main facts. But here, if I mistake not, is our client,considerably before his time.”
Billy had opened the door, but the name which he announcedwas an unexpected one. Mr. Marlow Bates was a stranger toboth of us. He was a thin, nervous wisp of a man with frightenedeyes and a twitching, hesitating manner—a man whom my ownprofessional eye would judge to be on the brink of an absolutenervous breakdown.
“You seem agitated, Mr. Bates,” said Holmes. “Pray sit down. Ifear I can only give you a short time, for I have an appointment ateleven.”
“I know you have,” our visitor gasped, shooting out shortsentences like a man who is out of breath. “Mr. Gibson is coming.
Mr. Gibson is my employer. I am manager of his estate. Mr.Holmes, he is a villain—an infernal villain.”
“Strong language, Mr. Bates.”
“I have to be emphatic, Mr. Holmes, for the time is so limited.
I would not have him find me here for the world. He is almostdue now. But I was so situated that I could not come earlier.
His secretary, Mr. Ferguson, only told me this morning of hisappointment with you.”
“And you are his manager?”
“I have given him notice. In a couple of weeks I shall haveshaken off his accursed slavery. A hard man, Mr. Holmes, hardto all about him. Those public charities are a screen to cover hisprivate iniquities. But his wife was his chief victim. He was brutalto her—yes, sir, brutal! How she came by her death I do not know,but I am sure that he had made her life a misery to her. She wasa creature of the tropics, a Brazilian by birth, as no doubt youknow.”
“No, it had escaped me.”
“Tropical by birth and tropical by nature. A child of the sun andof passion. She had loved him as such women can love, but whenher own physical charms had faded—I am told that they oncewere great—there was nothing to hold him. We all liked her andfelt for her and hated him for the way that he treated her. But heis plausible and cunning. That is all I have to say to you. Don’ttake him at his face value. There is more behind. Now I’ll go. No,no, don’t detain me! He is almost due.”
With a frightened look at the clock our strange visitor literallyran to the door and disappeared.
“Well! Well!” said Holmes after an interval of silence. “Mr.Gibson seems to have a nice loyal household. But the warning is auseful one, and now we can only wait till the man himself appears.”
Sharp at the hour we heard a heavy step upon the stairs, and thefamous millionaire was shown into the room. As I looked uponhim I understood not only the fears and dislike of his manager butalso the execrations which so many business rivals have heapedupon his head. If I were a sculptor and desired to idealize thesuccessful man of affairs, iron of nerve and leathery of conscience,I should choose Mr. Neil Gibson as my model. His tall, gaunt,craggy figure had a suggestion of hunger and rapacity. An AbrahamLincoln keyed to base uses instead of high ones would give someidea of the man. His face might have been chiselled in granite,hard-set, craggy, remorseless, with deep lines upon it, the scars ofmany a crisis. Cold gray eyes, looking shrewdly out from underbristling brows, surveyed us each in turn. He bowed in perfunctoryfashion as Holmes mentioned my name, and then with a masterfulair of possession he drew a chair up to my companion and seatedhimself with his bony knees almost touching him.
“Let me say right here, Mr. Holmes,” he began, “that money isnothing to me in this case. You can burn it if it’s any use in lightingyou to the truth. This woman is innocent and this woman has tobe cleared, and it’s up to you to do it. Name your figure!”
“My professional charges are upon a fixed scale,” said Holmescoldly. “I do not vary them, save when I remit them altogether.”
“Well, if dollars make no difference to you, think of thereputation. If you pull this off every paper in England and Americawill be booming you. You’ll be the talk of two continents.”
“Thank you, Mr. Gibson, I do not think that I am in needof booming. It may surprise you to know that I prefer to workanonymously, and that it is the problem itself which attracts me.
But we are wasting time. Let us get down to the facts.”
“I think that you will find all the main ones in the press reports.
I don’t know that I can add anything which will help you. But ifthere is anything you would wish more light upon—well, I am hereto give it.”
“Well, there is just one point.”
“What is it?”
“What were the exact relations between you and Miss Dunbar?”
The Gold King gave a violent start and half rose from his chair.
Then his massive calm came back to him.
“I suppose you are within your rights—and maybe doing yourduty—in asking such a question, Mr. Holmes.”
“We will agree to suppose so,” said Holmes.
“Then I can assure you that our relations were entirely andalways those of an employer towards a young lady whom he neverconversed with, or ever saw, save when she was in the company ofhis children.”
Holmes rose from his chair.
“I am a rather busy man, Mr. Gibson,” said he, “and I have notime or taste for aimless conversations. I wish you goodmorning.”
Our visitor had risen also, and his great loose figure toweredabove Holmes. There was an angry gleam from under thosebristling brows and a tinge of colour in the sallow cheeks.
“What the devil do you mean by this, Mr. Holmes? Do youdismiss my case?”
“Well, Mr. Gibson, at least I dismiss you. I should have thoughtmy words were plain.”
“Plain enough, but what’s at the back of it? Raising the price onme, or afraid to tackle it, or what? I’ve a right to a plain answer.”
“Well, perhaps you have,” said Holmes. “I’ll give you one. Thiscase is quite sufficiently complicated to start with without thefurther difficulty of false information.”
“Meaning that I lie.”