“That is remarkable—most remarkable,” said Holmes, whoseinterest in the case seemed to be rising. “Pray continue, Watson.
I find your narrative most arresting. Did you personally examinethis ticket? You did not, perchance, take the number?”
“It so happens that I did,” I answered with some pride. “Itchanced to be my old school number, thirty-one, and so is stuck inmy head.”
“Excellent, Watson! His seat, then, was either thirty or thirtytwo.”
“Quite so,” I answered with some mystification. “And on B row.”
“That is most satisfactory. What else did he tell you?”
“He showed me his strong-room, as he called it. It really is astrong-room—like a bank—with iron door and shutter—burglarproof,as he claimed. However, the woman seems to have had aduplicate key, and between them they had carried off some seventhousand pounds’ worth of cash and securities.”
“Securities! How could they dispose of those?”
“He said that he had given the police a list and that he hopedthey would be unsaleable. He had got back from the theatre aboutmidnight and found the place plundered, the door and windowopen, and the fugitives gone. There was no letter or message,nor has he heard a word since. He at once gave the alarm to thepolice.”
Holmes brooded for some minutes.
“You say he was painting. What was he painting?”
“Well, he was painting the passage. But he had already paintedthe door and woodwork of this room I spoke of.”
“Does it not strike you as a strange occupation in the circumstances?”
“ ‘One must do something to ease an aching heart.’ That washis own explanation. It was eccentric, no doubt, but he is clearlyan eccentric man. He tore up one of his wife’s photographs in mypresence—tore it up furiously in a tempest of passion. ‘I neverwish to see her damned face again,’ he shrieked.”
“Anything more, Watson?”
“Yes, one thing which struck me more than anything else. Ihad driven to the Blackheath Station and had caught my trainthere when, just as it was starting, I saw a man dart into thecarriage next to my own. You know that I have a quick eye forfaces, Holmes. It was undoubtedly the tall, dark man whom I hadaddressed in the street. I saw him once more at London Bridge,and then I lost him in the crowd. But I am convinced that he wasfollowing me.”
“No doubt! No doubt!” said Holmes. “A tall, dark, heavilymoustached man, you say, with gray-tinted sun-glasses?”
“Holmes, you are a wizard. I did not say so, but he had graytintedsun-glasses.”
“And a Masonic tie-pin?”
“Holmes!”
“Quite simple, my dear Watson. But let us get down to what ispractical. I must admit to you that the case, which seemed to meto be so absurdly simple as to be hardly worth my notice, is rapidlyassuming a very different aspect. It is true that though in yourmission you have missed everything of importance, yet even thosethings which have obtruded themselves upon your notice give riseto serious thought.”
“What have I missed?”
“Don’t be hurt, my dear fellow. You know that I am quiteimpersonal. No one else would have done better. Some possiblynot so well. But clearly you have missed some vital points. Whatis the opinion of the neighbours about this man Amberley and hiswife? That surely is of importance. What of Dr. Ernest? Was hethe gay Lothario one would expect? With your natural advantages,Watson, every lady is your helper and accomplice. What about thegirl at the post-office, or the wife of the greengrocer? I can pictureyou whispering soft nothings with the young lady at the BlueAnchor, and receiving hard somethings in exchange. All this youhave left undone.”
“It can still be done.”
“It has been done. Thanks to the telephone and the help of theYard, I can usually get my essentials without leaving this room. Asa matter of fact, my information confirms the man’s story. He hasthe local repute of being a miser as well as a harsh and exactinghusband. That he had a large sum of money in that strong-roomof his is certain. So also is it that young Dr. Ernest, an unmarriedman, played chess with Amberley, and probably played the foolwith his wife. All this seems plain sailing, and one would thinkthat there was no more to be said—and yet!—and yet!”
“Where lies the difficulty?”
“In my imagination, perhaps. Well, leave it there, Watson. Let usescape from this weary workaday world by the side door of music.
Carina sings to-night at the Albert Hall, and we still have time todress, dine, and enjoy.”
In the morning I was up betimes, but some toast crumbs andtwo empty eggshells told me that my companion was earlier still. Ifound a scribbled note upon the table.
DEAR WATSON:
There are one or two points of contact which I should wish toestablish with Mr. Josiah Amberley. When I have done so we candismiss the case—or not. I would only ask you to be on hand aboutthree o’clock, as I conceive it possible that I may want you.
S.H.
I saw nothing of Holmes all day, but at the hour named hereturned, grave, preoccupied, and aloof. At such times it was wiserto leave him to himself.
“Has Amberley been here yet?”
“No.”
“Ah! I am expecting him.”
He was not disappointed, for presently the old fellow arrivedwith a very worried and puzzled expression upon his austere face.
“I’ve had a telegram, Mr. Holmes. I can make nothing of it.” Hehanded it over, and Holmes read it aloud.
“Come at once without fail. Can give you information as to yourrecent loss.
“ELMAN.
“The Vicarage.
“Dispatched at 2:10 from Little Purlington,” said Holmes. “LittlePurlington is in Essex, I believe, not far from Frinton. Well, ofcourse you will start at once. This is evidently from a responsibleperson, the vicar of the place. Where is my Crockford? Yes, herewe have him: ‘J. C. Elman, M. A., Living of Moosmoor cum LittlePurlington.’ Look up the trains, Watson.”
“There is one at 5:20 from Liverpool Street.”
“Excellent. You had best go with him, Watson. He may needhelp or advice. Clearly we have come to a crisis in this affair.”
But our client seemed by no means eager to start.