“It must be admitted that the workings of this unhappy woman’smind were deep and subtle, so that it was no very simple matterto unravel her plot. I do not think that in our adventures we haveever come across a stranger example of what perverted love canbring about. Whether Miss Dunbar was her rival in a physical orin a merely mental sense seems to have been equally unforgivablein her eyes. No doubt she blamed this innocent lady for all thoseharsh dealings and unkind words with which her husband triedto repel her too demonstrative affection. Her first resolution wasto end her own life. Her second was to do it in such a way as toinvolve her victim in a fate which was worse far than any suddendeath could be.
“We can follow the various steps quite clearly, and they show aremarkable subtlety of mind. A note was extracted very cleverlyfrom Miss Dunbar which would make it appear that she hadchosen the scene of the crime. In her anxiety that it should bediscovered she somewhat overdid it by holding it in her hand tothe last. This alone should have excited my suspicions earlier thanit did.
“Then she took one of her husband’s revolvers—there was, asyou saw, an arsenal in the house—and kept it for her own use. Asimilar one she concealed that morning in Miss Dunbar’s wardrobeafter discharging one barrel, which she could easily do in thewoods without attracting attention. She then went down to thebridge where she had contrived this exceedingly ingenious methodfor getting rid of her weapon. When Miss Dunbar appeared sheused her last breath in pouring out her hatred, and then, when shewas out of hearing, carried out her terrible purpose. Every link isnow in its place and the chain is complete. The papers may askwhy the mere was not dragged in the first instance, but it is easy tobe wise after the event, and in any case the expanse of a reed-filledlake is no easy matter to drag unless you have a clear perception ofwhat you are looking for and where. Well, Watson, we have helpeda remarkable woman, and also a formidable man. Should they inthe future join their forces, as seems not unlikely, the financialworld may find that Mr. Neil Gibson has learned something inthat schoolroom of sorrow where our earthly lessons are taught.”
The Adventure of the Creeping Man
Mr. Sherlock Holmes was always of opinion that I shouldpublish the singular facts connected with Professor Presbury, ifonly to dispel once for all the ugly rumours which some twentyyears ago agitated the university and were echoed in the learnedsocieties of London. There were, however, certain obstacles in theway, and the true history of this curious case remained entombedin the tin box which contains so many records of my friend’sadventures. Now we have at last obtained permission to ventilatethe facts which formed one of the very last cases handled byHolmes before his retirement from practice. Even now a certainreticence and discretion have to be observed in laying the matterbefore the public.
It was one Sunday evening early in September of the year 1903that I received one of Holmes’s laconic messages:
Come at once if convenient—if inconvenient come all the same.
S. H.
The relations between us in those latter days were peculiar. Hewas a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits, and I hadbecome one of them. As an institution I was like the violin, theshag tobacco, the old black pipe, the index books, and othersperhaps less excusable. When it was a case of active work anda comrade was needed upon whose nerve he could place somereliance, my r?le was obvious. But apart from this I had uses. Iwas a whetstone for his mind. I stimulated him. He liked to thinkaloud in my presence. His remarks could hardly be said to be madeto me—many of them would have been as appropriately addressedto his bedstead—but none the less, having formed the habit, it hadbecome in some way helpful that I should register and interject. IfI irritated him by a certain methodical slowness in my mentality,that irritation served only to make his own flame-like intuitionsand impressions flash up the more vividly and swiftly. Such was myhumble role in our alliance.
When I arrived at Baker Street I found him huddled up in hisarmchair with updrawn knees, his pipe in his mouth and his browfurrowed with thought. It was clear that he was in the throes ofsome vexatious problem. With a wave of his hand he indicatedmy old armchair, but otherwise for half an hour he gave no signthat he was aware of my presence. Then with a start he seemedto come from his reverie, and with his usual whimsical smile hegreeted me back to what had once been my home.
“You will excuse a certain abstraction of mind, my dear Watson,”
said he. “Some curious facts have been submitted to me within thelast twenty-four hours, and they in turn have given rise to somespeculations of a more general character. I have serious thoughtsof writing a small monograph upon the uses of dogs in the work ofthe detective.”
“But surely, Holmes, this has been explored,” said I. “Bloodhounds—sleuth-hounds——”
“No, no, Watson, that side of the matter is, of course, obvious.
But there is another which is far more subtle. You may recollectthat in the case which you, in your sensational way, coupled withthe Copper Beeches, I was able, by watching the mind of thechild, to form a deduction as to the criminal habits of the verysmug and respectable father.”
“Yes, I remember it well.”
“My line of thoughts about dogs is analogous. A dog reflects thefamily life. Whoever saw a frisky dog in a gloomy family, or a saddog in a happy one? Snarling people have snarling dogs, dangerouspeople have dangerous ones. And their passing moods may reflectthe passing moods of others.”
I shook my head. “Surely, Holmes, this is a little far-fetched,”said I.
He had refilled his pipe and resumed his seat, taking no noticeof my comment.