“I see no more than you, but I have trained myself to noticewhat I see. However, Mr. Dodd, it was not to discuss the scienceof observation that you called upon me this morning. What hasbeen happening at Tuxbury Old Park?”
“Mr. Holmes——!”
“My dear sir, there is no mystery. Your letter came with thatheading, and as you fixed this appointment in very pressing termsit was clear that something sudden and important had occurred.”
“Yes, indeed. But the letter was written in the afternoon, and agood deal has happened since then. If Colonel Emsworth had notkicked me out——”
“Kicked you out!”
“Well, that was what it amounted to. He is a hard nail, isColonel Emsworth. The greatest martinet in the Army in his day,and it was a day of rough language, too. I couldn’t have stuck thecolonel if it had not been for Godfrey’s sake.”
I lit my pipe and leaned back in my chair.
“Perhaps you will explain what you are talking about.”
My client grinned mischievously.
“I had got into the way of supposing that you knew everythingwithout being told,” said he. “But I will give you the facts, and Ihope to God that you will be able to tell me what they mean. I’vebeen awake all night puzzling my brain, and the more I think themore incredible does it become.
“When I joined up in January, 1901—just two years ago—youngGodfrey Emsworth had joined the same squadron. He was ColonelEmsworth’s only son—Emsworth the Crimean V. C.—and he hadthe fighting blood in him, so it is no wonder he volunteered. Therewas not a finer lad in the regiment. We formed a friendship—thesort of friendship which can only be made when one lives the samelife and shares the same joys and sorrows. He was my mate—andthat means a good deal in the Army. We took the rough and thesmooth together for a year of hard fighting. Then he was hit witha bullet from an elephant gun in the action near Diamond Hilloutside Pretoria. I got one letter from the hospital at Cape Townand one from Southampton. Since then not a word—not oneword, Mr. Holmes, for six months and more, and he my closestpal.
1258 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
“Well, when the war was over, and we all got back, I wrote tohis father and asked where Godfrey was. No answer. I waited a bitand then I wrote again. This time I had a reply, short and gruff.
Godfrey had gone on a voyage round the world, and it was notlikely that he would be back for a year. That was all.
“I wasn’t satisfied, Mr. Holmes. The whole thing seemed to meso damned unnatural. He was a good lad, and he would not droppal like that. It was not like him. Then, again, I happened toknow that he was heir to a lot of money, and also that his fatherand he did not always hit it off too well. The old man was sometimesbully, and young Godfrey had too much spirit to stand it. No, Iwasn’t satisfied, and I determined that I would get to the root of thematter. It happened, however, that my own affairs needed a lot ofstraightening out, after two years’ absence, and so it is only this weekthat I have been able to take up Godfrey’s case again. But since I havetaken it up I mean to drop everything in order to see it through.”
Mr. James M. Dodd appeared to be the sort of person whom itwould be better to have as a friend than as an enemy. His blue eyeswere stern and his square jaw had set hard as he spoke.
“Well, what have you done?” I asked.
“My first move was to get down to his home, Tuxbury Old Park,near Bedford, and to see for myself how the ground lay. I wrote tothe mother, therefore—I had had quite enough of the curmudgeonof a father—and I made a clean frontal attack: Godfrey was mychum, I had a great deal of interest which I might tell her of ourcommon experiences, I should be in the neighbourhood, wouldthere be any objection, et cetera? In reply I had quite an amiableanswer from her and an offer to put me up for the night. That waswhat took me down on Monday.
“Tuxbury Old Hall is inaccessible—five miles from anywhere.
There was no trap at the station, so I had to walk, carrying mysuitcase, and it was nearly dark before I arrived. It is a greatwandering house, standing in a considerable park. I should judgewas of all sorts of ages and styles, starting on a half-timberedElizabethan foundation and ending in a Victorian portico. Insidewas all panelling and tapestry and half-effaced old pictures, ahouse of shadows and mystery. There was a butler, old Ralph, whoseemed about the same age as the house, and there was his wife,who might have been older. She had been Godfrey’s nurse, andhad heard him speak of her as second only to his mother in hisaffections, so I was drawn to her in spite of her queer appearance.
The mother I liked also—a gentle little white mouse of a woman.
was only the colonel himself whom I barred.
“We had a bit of barney right away, and I should have walkedback to the station if I had not felt that it might be playing hisThe Case Book of Sherlock Holmes 1259
game for me to do so. I was shown straight into his study, andthere I found him, a huge, bow-backed man with a smoky skinand a straggling gray beard, seated behind his littered desk. A redveinednose jutted out like a vulture’s beak, and two fierce grayeyes glared at me from under tufted brows. I could understandnow why Godfrey seldom spoke of his father.
“ ‘Well, sir,’ said he in a rasping voice, ‘I should be interested toknow the real reasons for this visit.’
“I answered that I had explained them in my letter to his wife.
“ ‘Yes, yes, you said that you had known Godfrey in Africa. Wehave, of course, only your word for that.’
“ ‘I have his letters to me in my pocket.’
“ ‘Kindly let me see them.’
“He glanced at the two which I handed him, and then he tossedthem back.
“ ‘Well, what then?’ he asked.
“ ‘I was fond of your son Godfrey, sir. Many ties and memoriesunited us. Is it not natural that I should wonder at his suddensilence and should wish to know what has become of him?’