“There being no fear of interruption I proceeded to burgle thehouse. Burglary has always been an alternative profession had Icared to adopt it, and I have little doubt that I should have cometo the front. Observe what I found. You see the gas-pipe along theskirting here. Very good. It rises in the angle of the wall, and thereis a tap here in the corner. The pipe runs out into the strongroom,as you can see, and ends in that plaster rose in the centre ofthe ceiling, where it is concealed by the ornamentation. That endis wide open. At any moment by turning the outside tap the roomcould be flooded with gas. With door and shutter closed and thetap full on I would not give two minutes of conscious sensation toanyone shut up in that little chamber. By what devilish device hedecoyed them there I do not know, but once inside the door theywere at his mercy.”
The inspector examined the pipe with interest. “One of ourofficers mentioned the smell of gas,” said he, “but of course thewindow and door were open then, and the paint—or some ofit—was already about. He had begun the work of painting the daybefore, according to his story. But what next, Mr. Holmes?”
“Well, then came an incident which was rather unexpected tomyself. I was slipping through the pantry window in the early dawnwhen I felt a hand inside my collar, and a voice said: ‘Now, yourascal, what are you doing in there?’ When I could twist my headround I looked into the tinted spectacles of my friend and rival,Mr. Barker. It was a curious foregathering and set us both smiling.
It seems that he had been engaged by Dr. Ray Ernest’s family tomake some investigations and had come to the same conclusionas to foul play. He had watched the house for some days and hadspotted Dr. Watson as one of the obviously suspicious characterswho had called there. He could hardly arrest Watson, but when hesaw a man actually climbing out of the pantry window there camea limit to his restraint. Of course, I told him how matters stoodand we continued the case together.”
“Why him? Why not us?”
“Because it was in my mind to put that little test which answeredso admirably. I fear you would not have gone so far.”
The inspector smiled.
“Well, maybe not. I understand that I have your word, Mr. Holmes, that you step right out of the case now and that you turnall your results over to us.”
“Certainly, that is always my custom.”
“Well, in the name of the force I thank you. It seems a clear case,as you put it, and there can’t be much difficulty over the bodies.”
“I’ll show you a grim little bit of evidence,” said Holmes,“and I am sure Amberley himself never observed it. You’ll getresults, Inspector, by always putting yourself in the other fellow’splace, and thinking what you would do yourself. It takes someimagination, but it pays. Now, we will suppose that you were shutup in this little room, had not two minutes to live, but wanted toget even with the fiend who was probably mocking at you fromthe other side of the door. What would you do?”
“Write a message.”
“Exactly. You would like to tell people how you died. No usewriting on paper. That would be seen. If you wrote on the wallsomeone might rest upon it. Now, look here! Just above theskirting is scribbled with a purple indelible pencil: ‘We we——’
That’s all.’’
“What do you make of that?”
“Well, it’s only a foot above the ground. The poor devil wason the floor dying when he wrote it. He lost his senses before hecould finish.”
“He was writing, ‘We were murdered.’ ”
“That’s how I read it. If you find an indelible pencil on thebody——”
“We’ll look out for it, you may be sure. But those securities?
Clearly there was no robbery at all. And yet he did possess thosebonds. We verified that.”
“You may be sure he has them hidden in a safe place. Whenthe whole elopement had passed into history, he would suddenlydiscover them and announce that the guilty couple had relentedand sent back the plunder or had dropped it on the way.”
“You certainly seem to have met every difficulty,” said theinspector. “Of course, he was bound to call us in, but why heshould have gone to you I can’t understand.”
“Pure swank!” Holmes answered. “He felt so clever and so sureof himself that he imagined no one could touch him. He couldsay to any suspicious neighbour, ‘Look at the steps I have taken. Ihave consulted not only the police but even Sherlock Holmes.’ ”
The inspector laughed.
“We must forgive you your 'even', Mr. Holmes,” said he “it’s asworkmanlike a job as I can remember.”
A couple of days later my friend tossed across to me a copy ofthe bi-weekly North Surrey Observer. Under a series of flamingheadlines, which began with “The Haven Horror” and ended with“Brilliant Police Investigation,” there was a packed column ofprint which gave the first consecutive account of the affair. Theconcluding paragraph is typical of the whole. It ran thus:
The remarkable acumen by which Inspector MacKinnon deducedfrom the smell of paint that some other smell, that of gas, forexample, might be concealed; the bold deduction that the strongroommight also be the death-chamber, and the subsequent inquirywhich led to the discovery of the bodies in a disused well, cleverlyconcealed by a dog-kennel, should live in the history of crime as astanding example of the intelligence of our professional detectives.
“Well, well, MacKinnon is a good fellow,” said Holmes with atolerant smile. “You can file it in our archives, Watson. Some daythe true story may be told.”