“He has certainly interfered several times,” the inspector answeredwith reserve.
“His methods are irregular, no doubt, like my own. Theirregulars are useful sometimes, you know. You, for example, withyour compulsory warning about whatever he said being usedagainst him, could never have bluffed this rascal into what isvirtually a confession.”
“Perhaps not. But we get there all the same, Mr. Holmes. Don’timagine that we had not formed our own views of this case, andthat we would not have laid our hands on our man. You will excuseus for feeling sore when you jump in with methods which wecannot use, and so rob us of the credit.”
“There shall be no such robbery, MacKinnon. I assure you thatI efface myself from now onward, and as to Barker, he has donenothing save what I told him.”
The inspector seemed considerably relieved.
“That is very handsome of you, Mr. Holmes. Praise or blamecan matter little to you, but it is very different to us when thenewspapers begin to ask questions.”
“Quite so. But they are pretty sure to ask questions anyhow, so itwould be as well to have answers. What will you say, for example,when the intelligent and enterprising reporter asks you what theexact points were which aroused your suspicion, and finally gaveyou a certain conviction as to the real facts?”
The inspector looked puzzled.
“We don’t seem to have got any real facts yet, Mr. Holmes.
You say that the prisoner, in the presence of three witnesses,practically confessed by trying to commit suicide, that he hadmurdered his wife and her lover. What other facts have you?”
“Have you arranged for a search?”
“There are three constables on their way.”
“Then you will soon get the clearest fact of all. The bodies cannotbe far away. Try the cellars and the garden. It should not take longto dig up the likely places. This house is older than the water-pipes.
There must be a disused well somewhere. Try your luck there.”
“But how did you know of it, and how was it done?”
“I’ll show you first how it was done, and then I will givethe explanation which is due to you, and even more to mylongsuffering friend here, who has been invaluable throughout.
But, first, I would give you an insight into this man’s mentality. Itis a very unusual one—so much so that I think his destination ismore likely to be Broadmoor than the scaffold. He has, to a highdegree, the sort of mind which one associates with the mediaevalItalian nature rather than with the modern Briton. He was amiserable miser who made his wife so wretched by his niggardlyways that she was a ready prey for any adventurer. Such a onecame upon the scene in the person of this chess-playing doctor.
Amberley excelled at chess—one mark, Watson, of a schemingmind. Like all misers, he was a jealous man, and his jealousybecame a frantic mania. Rightly or wrongly, he suspected anintrigue. He determined to have his revenge, and he planned itwith diabolical cleverness. Come here!”
Holmes led us along the passage with as much certainty as if hehad lived in the house and halted at the open door of the strongroom.
“Pooh! What an awful smell of paint!” cried the inspector.
“That was our first clue,” said Holmes. “You can thank Dr. Watson’s observation for that, though he failed to draw theinference. It set my foot upon the trail. Why should this man atsuch a time be filling his house with strong odours? Obviously,to cover some other smell which he wished to conceal—someguilty smell which would suggest suspicions. Then came the ideaof a room such as you see here with iron door and shutter—ahermetically sealed room. Put those two facts together, andwhither do they lead? I could only determine that by examiningthe house myself. I was already certain that the case was serious,for I had examined the box-office chart at the HaymarketTheatre—another of Dr. Watson’s bull’s-eyes—and ascertainedthat neither B thirty nor thirty-two of the upper circle had beenoccupied that night. Therefore, Amberley had not been to thetheatre, and his alibi fell to the ground. He made a bad slip whenhe allowed my astute friend to notice the number of the seattaken for his wife. The question now arose how I might be able toexamine the house. I sent an agent to the most impossible villageI could think of, and summoned my man to it at such an hourthat he could not possibly get back. To prevent any miscarriage,Dr. Watson accompanied him. The good vicar’s name I took, ofcourse, out of my Crockford. Do I make it all clear to you?”
“It is masterly,” said the inspector in an awed voice.