On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I haveduring the last eight years studied the methods of my friend SherlockHolmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange,but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of hisart than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himselfwith any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and eventhe fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall anywhich presented more singular features than that which was associatedwith the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. Theevents in question occurred in the early days of my association withHolmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. Itis possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but apromise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only beenfreed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whomthe pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the facts should nowcome to light, for I have reasons to know that there are wide-spreadrumors as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make thematter even more terrible than the truth.
It was early in April in the year ’83 that I woke one morning to findSherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He wasa late riser as a rule, and as the clock on the mantel-piece showedme that it was only a quarter past seven, I blinked up at him in somesurprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myselfregular in my habits.
“Very sorry to knock you up, Watson,” said he, “but it’s the common lotthis morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me,and I on you.”
“What is it, then—a fire?”
“No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerablestate of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now inthe sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolisat this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of theirbeds, I presume that it is something very pressing which they have tocommunicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I amsure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that Ishould call you and give you the chance.”
“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.”
I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professionalinvestigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift asintuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis, with which heunravelled the problems which were submitted to him. I rapidly threw onmy clothes, and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend downto the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, whohad been sitting in the window, rose as we entered.
“Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes, cheerily. “My name is SherlockHolmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, beforewhom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am glad to seethat Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire. Pray draw upto it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe thatyou are shivering.”
“It is not cold which makes me shiver,” said the woman, in a low voice,changing her seat as requested.
“What, then?”
“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as shespoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state ofagitation, her face all drawn and gray, with restless, frightened eyes,like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those ofa woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature gray, and herexpression was weary and haggard. Sherlock Holmes ran her over with oneof his quick, all-comprehensive glances.
“You must not fear,” said he, soothingly, bending forward and pattingher forearm. “We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. Youhave come in by train this morning, I see.”
“You know me, then?”
“No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm ofyour left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a gooddrive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the station.”
The lady gave a violent start, and stared in bewilderment at mycompanion.
“There is no mystery, my dear madam,” said he, smiling. “The left armof your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. Themarks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog-cart whichthrows up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-handside of the driver.”
“Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct,” said she. “Istarted from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, andcame in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this strain nolonger; I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to—none,save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, can be of littleaid. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs.Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. It was fromher that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you couldhelp me, too, and at least throw a little light through the densedarkness which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to rewardyou for your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be married,with the control of my own income, and then at least you shall notfind me ungrateful.”
Holmes turned to his desk, and unlocking it, drew out a smallcase-book, which he consulted.
“Farintosh,” said he. “Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned withan opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson. I can only say,madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case asI did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession is its ownreward; but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I may be putto, at the time which suits you best. And now I beg that you will laybefore us everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon thematter.”
“Alas!” replied our visitor, “the very horror of my situation liesin the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend soentirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to another, thateven he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help andadvice looks upon all that I tell him about it as the fancies of anervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothinganswers and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you cansee deeply into the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You mayadvise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me.”
“I am all attention, madam.”
“My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my step-father, who isthe last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, theRoylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey.”
Holmes nodded his head. “The name is familiar to me,” said he.
“The family was at one time among the richest in England, and theestates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, andHampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successiveheirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, and the familyruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of theRegency. Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and thetwo-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under a heavymortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, livingthe horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but his only son, mystep-father, seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions,obtained an advance from a relative, which enabled him to take amedical degree, and went out to Calcutta, where, by his professionalskill and his force of character, he established a large practice.In a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had beenperpetrated in the house, he beat his native butler to death, andnarrowly escaped a capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a longterm of imprisonment, and afterwards returned to England a morose anddisappointed man.
“When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, theyoung widow of Major-general Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My sisterJulia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time ofmy mother’s re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of money—not lessthan £1000 a year—and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirelywhile we resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual sumshould be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortlyafter our return to England my mother died—she was killed eight yearsago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then abandoned hisattempts to establish himself in practice in London, and took us tolive with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The moneywhich my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and there seemedto be no obstacle to our happiness.
“But a terrible change came over our step-father about this time.Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbors, whohad at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back inthe old family seat, he shut himself up in his house, and seldom cameout save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross hispath. Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary inthe men of the family, and in my step-father’s case it had, I believe,been intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series ofdisgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court,until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folkswould fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense strength, andabsolutely uncontrollable in his anger.
“Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream,and it was only by paying over all the money which I could gathertogether that I was able to avert another public exposure. He had nofriends at all save the wandering gypsies, and he would give thesevagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble-covered landwhich represent the family estate, and would accept in return thehospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes forweeks on end. He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sentover to him by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah anda baboon, which wander freely over his grounds, and are feared by thevillagers almost as much as their master.
“You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had nogreat pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, and for along time we did all the work of the house. She was but thirty at thetime of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, evenas mine has.”
“Your sister is dead, then?”
“She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish tospeak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I havedescribed, we were little likely to see anyone of our own age andposition. We had, however, an aunt, my mother’s maiden sister, MissHonoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we were occasionallyallowed to pay short visits at this lady’s house. Julia went there atChristmas two years ago, and met there a half-pay major of marines,to whom she became engaged. My step-father learned of the engagementwhen my sister returned, and offered no objection to the marriage; butwithin a fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the wedding, theterrible event occurred which has deprived me of my only companion.”
Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closedand his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now andglanced across at his visitor.
“Pray be precise as to details,” said he.
“It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time isseared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have already said, veryold, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this wing areon the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the central block ofthe buildings. Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott’s, the secondmy sister’s, and the third my own. There is no communication betweenthem, but they all open out into the same corridor. Do I make myselfplain?”
“Perfectly so.”
“The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That fatalnight Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that hehad not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell ofthe strong Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. She lefther room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time,chatting about her approaching wedding. At eleven o’clock she rose toleave me but she paused at the door and looked back.
“‘Tell me, Helen,’ said she, ‘have you ever heard any one whistle inthe dead of the night?’
“‘Never,’ said I.
“‘I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in yoursleep?’
“‘Certainly not. But why?’
“‘Because during the last few nights I have always, about three inthe morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and ithas awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from—perhaps from thenext room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would just ask youwhether you had heard it.’
“‘No, I have not. It must be those wretched gypsies in the plantation.’
“‘Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you didnot hear it also.’
“‘Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.’
“‘Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.’ She smiled back atme, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in thelock.”
“Indeed,” said Holmes. “Was it your custom always to lock yourselves inat night?”
“Always.”
“And why?”
“I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and ababoon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked.”
“Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement.”
“I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortuneimpressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and youknow how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closelyallied. It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rainwas beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all thehubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a terrifiedwoman. I knew that it was my sister’s voice. I sprang from my bed,wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened mydoor I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and afew moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen.As I ran down the passage, my sister’s door was unlocked, and revolvedslowly upon its hinges. I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowingwhat was about to issue from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp Isaw my sister appear at the opening, her face blanched with terror, herhands groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like thatof a drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at thatmoment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. Shewrithed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were dreadfullyconvulsed. At first I thought that she had not recognized me, but as Ibent over her she suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall neverforget, ‘Oh, my God! Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!’ Therewas something else which she would fain have said, and she stabbed withher finger into the air in the direction of the doctor’s room, but afresh convulsion seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, callingloudly for my step-father, and I met him hastening from his room in hisdressing-gown. When he reached my sister’s side she was unconscious,and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aidfrom the village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank anddied without having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadfulend of my beloved sister.”
“One moment,” said Holmes; “are you sure about this whistle andmetallic sound? Could you swear to it?”
“That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is mystrong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the galeand the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived.”
“Was your sister dressed?”
“No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found thecharred stump of a match, and in her left a matchbox.”
“Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when thealarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did thecoroner come to?”
“He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott’s conducthad long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find anysatisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door hadbeen fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked byold-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured everynight. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quitesolid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, withthe same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four largestaples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone whenshe met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her.”
“How about poison?”
“The doctors examined her for it, but without success.”
“What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?”
“It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, thoughwhat it was that frightened her I cannot imagine.”
“Were there gypsies in the plantation at the time?”
“Yes, there are nearly always some there.”
“Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band—a speckledband?”
“Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium,sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps tothese very gypsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spottedhandkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads might havesuggested the strange adjective which she used.”
Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied.
“These are very deep waters,” said he; “pray go on with your narrative.”
“Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until latelylonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I haveknown for many years, has done me the honor to ask my hand in marriage.His name is Armitage—Percy Armitage—the second son of Mr. Armitage,of Crane Water, near Reading. My step-father has offered no oppositionto the match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Twodays ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building,and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move intothe chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed inwhich she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night,as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I suddenly heard inthe silence of the night the low whistle which had been the herald ofher own death. I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to beseen in the room. I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so Idressed, and as soon as it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cartat the ‘Crown Inn,’ which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, fromwhence I have come on this morning with the one object of seeing youand asking your advice.”
“You have done wisely,” said my friend. “But have you told me all?”
“Yes, all.”
“Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your step-father.”
“Why, what do you mean?”
For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed thehand that lay upon our visitor’s knee. Five little livid spots, themarks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white wrist.
“You have been cruelly used,” said Holmes.
The lady colored deeply and covered over her injured wrist. “He is ahard man,” she said, “and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength.”
There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon hishands and stared into the crackling fire.
“This is a very deep business,” he said, at last. “There are a thousanddetails which I should desire to know before I decide upon our courseof action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come toStoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over these roomswithout the knowledge of your step-father?”
“As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some mostimportant business. It is probable that he will be away all day, andthat there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a house-keepernow, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out of theway.”
“Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?”
“By no means.”
“Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?”
“I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am intown. But I shall return by the twelve o’clock train, so as to be therein time for your coming.”
“And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some smallbusiness matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?”
“No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confidedmy trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again thisafternoon.” She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glidedfrom the room.
“And what do you think of it all, Watson?” asked Sherlock Holmes,leaning back in his chair.
“It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business.”
“Dark enough and sinister enough.”
“Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls aresound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then hersister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysteriousend.”
“What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the verypeculiar words of the dying woman?”
“I cannot think.”
“When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of aband of gypsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, thefact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has aninterest in preventing his step-daughter’s marriage, the dying allusionto a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard ametallic clang, which might have been caused by one of those metal barswhich secured the shutters falling back into their place, I think thatthere is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared alongthose lines.”
“But what, then, did the gypsies do?”
“I cannot imagine.”
“I see many objections to any such theory.”
“And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going toStoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal,or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!”
The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that ourdoor had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framedhimself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of theprofessional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a longfrock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging inhis hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross barof the doorway, and his breadth seemed to span it across from side toside. A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow withthe sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to theother of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin,fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old birdof prey.
“Which of you is Holmes?” asked this apparition.
“My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me,” said my companion,quietly.
“I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran.”
“Indeed, doctor,” said Holmes, blandly. “Pray take a seat.”
“I will do nothing of the kind. My step-daughter has been here. I havetraced her. What has she been saying to you?”
“It is a little cold for the time of the year,” said Holmes.
“What has she been saying to you?” screamed the old man, furiously.
“But I have heard that the crocuses promise well,” continued mycompanion, imperturbably.
“Ha! You put me off, do you?” said our new visitor, taking a stepforward and shaking his hunting-crop. “I know you, you scoundrel! Ihave heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler.”
My friend smiled.
“Holmes, the busybody!”
His smile broadened.
“Holmes, the Scotland-yard Jack-in-office!”
Holmes chuckled heartily. “Your conversation is most entertaining,”said he. “When you go out close the door, for there is a decideddraught.”
“I will go when I have said my say. Don’t you dare to meddle with myaffairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am adangerous man to fall foul of! See here.” He stepped swiftly forward,seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.
“See that you keep yourself out of my grip,” he snarled, and hurlingthe twisted poker into the fireplace, he strode out of the room.
“He seems a very amiable person,” said Holmes, laughing. “I am notquite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that mygrip was not much more feeble than his own.” As he spoke he picked upthe steel poker, and with a sudden effort straightened it out again.
“Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the officialdetective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation,however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer fromher imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson,we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors’Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in thismatter.”
* * * * *
It was nearly one o’clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from hisexcursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled overwith notes and figures.
“I have seen the will of the deceased wife,” said he. “To determineits exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present pricesof the investments with which it is concerned. The total income, whichat the time of the wife’s death was little short of £1100, is now,through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than £750. Eachdaughter can claim an income of £250, in case of marriage. It isevident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty wouldhave had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him toa very serious extent. My morning’s work has not been wasted, since ithas proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in theway of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious fordawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are interestingourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall call a cab anddrive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if you would slip yourrevolver into your pocket. An Eley’s No. 2 is an excellent argumentwith gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and atooth-brush are, I think, all that we need.”
At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead,where we hired a trap at the station inn, and drove for four or fivemiles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, witha bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees andway-side hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, andthe air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me atleast there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of thespring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companionsat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down overhis eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the deepestthought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, andpointed over the meadows.
“Look there!” said he.
A heavily-timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening intoa grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted outthe gray gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion.
“Stoke Moran?” said he.
“Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott,” remarked thedriver.
“There is some building going on there,” said Holmes; “that is where weare going.”
“There’s the village,” said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofssome distance to the left; “but if you want to get to the house, you’llfind it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot-path overthe fields. There it is, where the lady is walking.”
“And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner,” observed Holmes, shading hiseyes. “Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest.”
We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way toLeatherhead.
“I thought it as well,” said Holmes, as we climbed the stile, “thatthis fellow should think we had come here as architects, or on somedefinite business. It may stop his gossip. Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner.You see that we have been as good as our word.”
Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a facewhich spoke her joy. “I have been waiting so eagerly for you,” shecried, shaking hands with us warmly. “All has turned out splendidly.Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be backbefore evening.”
“We have had the pleasure of making the doctor’s acquaintance,” saidHolmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had occurred. MissStoner turned white to the lips as she listened.
“Good heavens!” she cried, “he has followed me, then.”
“So it appears.”
“He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What willhe say when he returns?”
“He must guard himself, for he may find that there is some one morecunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up from himto-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt’s atHarrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take usat once to the rooms which we are to examine.”
The building was of gray, lichen-blotched stone, with a high centralportion, and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown outon each side. In one of these wings the windows were broken, andblocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, apicture of ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, butthe right-hand block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in thewindows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed thatthis was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erectedagainst the end wall, and the stone-work had been broken into, butthere were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmeswalked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn, and examined with deepattention the outsides of the windows.
“This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, thecentre one to your sister’s, and the one next to the main building toDr. Roylott’s chamber?”
“Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one.”
“Pending the alterations, as I understand. By-the-way, there does notseem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall.”
“There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from myroom.”
“Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wingruns the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windowsin it, of course?”
“Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for any one to pass through.”
“As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachablefrom that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go into your roomand bar your shutters.”
Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination throughthe open window, endeavored in every way to force the shutter open,but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could bepassed to raise the bar. Then with his lens he tested the hinges, butthey were of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry. “Hum!”said he, scratching his chin in some perplexity; “my theory certainlypresents some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if theywere bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon thematter.”
A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which thethree bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber,so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was nowsleeping, and in which her sister had met with her fate. It was ahomely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, afterthe fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of drawers stoodin one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in another, and adressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. These articles,with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in theroom, save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boardsround and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, soold and discolored that it may have dated from the original building ofthe house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent,while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking inevery detail of the apartment.
“Where does that bell communicate with?” he asked, at last, pointing toa thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actuallylying upon the pillow.
“It goes to the house-keeper’s room.”
“It looks newer than the other things?”
“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.”
“Your sister asked for it, I suppose?”
“No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what wewanted for ourselves.”
“Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. Youwill excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to thisfloor.” He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand,and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracksbetween the boards. Then he did the same with the wood-work with whichthe chamber was panelled. Finally he walked over to the bed, and spentsome time in staring at it, and in running his eye up and down thewall. Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug.
“Why, it’s a dummy,” said he.
“Won’t it ring?”
“No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. Youcan see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the littleopening for the ventilator is.”
“How very absurd! I never noticed that before.”
“Very strange!” muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. “There are one ortwo very singular points about this room. For example, what a fool abuilder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when, with thesame trouble, he might have communicated with the outside air!”
“That is also quite modern,” said the lady.
“Done about the same time as the bell-rope?” remarked Holmes.
“Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time.”
“They seem to have been of a most interesting character—dummybell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With yourpermission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into theinner apartment.”
Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s chamber was larger than that of hisstep-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small woodenshelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an arm-chairbeside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table,and a large iron safe were the principal things which met the eye.Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with thekeenest interest.
“What’s in here?” he asked, tapping the safe.
“My step-father’s business papers.”
“Oh! you have seen inside, then?”
“Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers.”
“There isn’t a cat in it, for example?”
“No. What a strange idea!”
“Well, look at this!” He took up a small saucer of milk which stood onthe top of it.
“No; we don’t keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon.”
“Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet asaucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine.” He squatteddown in front of the wooden chair, and examined the seat of it with thegreatest attention.
“Thank you. That is quite settled,” said he, rising and putting hislens in his pocket. “Hello! Here is something interesting!”
The object which had caught his eye was a small dog-lash hung on onecorner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself, and tiedso as to make a loop of whip-cord.
“What do you make of that, Watson?”
“It’s a common enough lash. But I don’t know why it should be tied.”
“That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it’s a wicked world,and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst ofall. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with yourpermission we shall walk out upon the lawn.”
I had never seen my friend’s face so grim or his brow so dark as itwas when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We had walkedseveral times up and down the lawn, neither Miss Stoner nor myselfliking to break in upon his thoughts before he roused himself from hisreverie.
“It is very essential, Miss Stoner,” said he, “that you shouldabsolutely follow my advice in every respect.”
“I shall most certainly do so.”
“The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may dependupon your compliance.”
“I assure you that I am in your hands.”
“In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in yourroom.”
Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment.
“Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the villageinn over there?”
“Yes, that is the ‘Crown.’”
“Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?”
“Certainly.”
“You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache,when your step-father comes back. Then when you hear him retire forthe night, you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp,put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly witheverything which you are likely to want into the room which you used tooccupy. I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could managethere for one night.”
“Oh yes, easily.”
“The rest you will leave in our hands.”
“But what will you do?”
“We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate thecause of this noise which has disturbed you.”
“I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind,” saidMiss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion’s sleeve.
“Perhaps I have.”
“Then for pity’s sake tell me what was the cause of my sister’s death.”
“I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak.”
“You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if shedied from some sudden fright.”
[Illustration: “‘GOOD-BYE, AND BE BRAVE’”]
“No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some moretangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you, for if Dr.Roylott returned and saw us, our journey would be in vain. Good-bye,and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may restassured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you.”
Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom andsitting-room at the “Crown Inn.” They were on the upper floor, andfrom our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and of theinhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw Dr. GrimesbyRoylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside the little figureof the lad who drove him. The boy had some slight difficulty in undoingthe heavy iron gates, and we heard the hoarse roar of the doctor’svoice, and saw the fury with which he shook his clinched fists at him.The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light springup among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms.
“Do you know, Watson,” said Holmes, as we sat together in the gatheringdarkness, “I have really some scruples as to taking you to-night. Thereis a distinct element of danger.”
“Can I be of assistance?”
“Your presence might be invaluable.”
“Then I shall certainly come.”
“It is very kind of you.”
“You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms thanwas visible to me.”
“No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine thatyou saw all that I did.”
“I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose thatcould answer I confess is more than I can imagine.”
“You saw the ventilator, too?”
“Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to havea small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat couldhardly pass through.”
“I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to StokeMoran.”
“My dear Holmes!”
“Oh yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her sistercould smell Dr. Roylott’s cigar. Now, of course that suggested at oncethat there must be a communication between the two rooms. It could onlybe a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the coroner’sinquiry. I deduced a ventilator.”
“But what harm can there be in that?”
“Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilatoris made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Doesnot that strike you?”
“I cannot as yet see any connection.”
“Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?”
“No.”
“It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like thatbefore?”
“I cannot say that I have.”
“The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the samerelative position to the ventilator and to the rope—for so we may callit, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull.”
“Holmes,” I cried, “I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. We areonly just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime.”
“Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong, he isthe first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer andPritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikeseven deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strikedeeper still. But we shall have horrors enough before the night isover; for goodness’ sake let us have a quiet pipe, and turn our mindsfor a few hours to something more cheerful.”
* * * * *
About nine o’clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and allwas dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowlyaway, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a singlebright light shone out right in front of us.
“That is our signal,” said Holmes, springing to his feet; “it comesfrom the middle window.”
As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, explainingthat we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it waspossible that we might spend the night there. A moment later we wereout on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, and one yellowlight twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on oursombre errand.
There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepairedbreaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees,we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through thewindow, when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what seemedto be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the grasswith writhing limbs, and then ran swiftly across the lawn into thedarkness.
“My God!” I whispered; “did you see it?”
Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a viceupon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh, and puthis lips to my ear.
“It is a nice household,” he murmured. “That is the baboon.”
I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There wasa cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at anymoment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after followingHolmes’s example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside thebedroom. My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamponto the table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we hadseen it in the daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet ofhis hand, he whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all thatI could do to distinguish the words:
“The least sound would be fatal to our plans.”
I nodded to show that I had heard.
“We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator.”
I nodded again.
“Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistolready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, andyou in that chair.”
I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table.
Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the bedbeside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a candle.Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness.
How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound,not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companionsat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervoustension in which I was myself. The shutters cut off the least rayof light, and we waited in absolute darkness. From outside came theoccasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our very window a longdrawn cat-like whine, which told us that the cheetah was indeed atliberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock,which boomed out every quarter of an hour. How long they seemed, thosequarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we satwaiting silently for whatever might befall.
Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the directionof the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded bya strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Some one in the nextroom had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle sound of movement, andthen all was silent once more, though the smell grew stronger. For halfan hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound becameaudible—a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet ofsteam escaping continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard it,Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously withhis cane at the bell-pull.
“You see it, Watson?” he yelled. “You see it?”
But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I hearda low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my weary eyesmade it impossible for me to tell what it was at which my friend lashedso savagely. I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale, andfilled with horror and loathing.
He had ceased to strike, and was gazing up at the ventilator, whensuddenly there broke from the silence of the night the most horriblecry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up louder and louder, ahoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled in the one dreadfulshriek. They say that away down in the village, and even in the distantparsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their beds. It struck coldto our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until thelast echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose.
“What can it mean?” I gasped.
“It means that it is all over,” Holmes answered. “And perhaps, afterall, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr.Roylott’s room.”
With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor.Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from within.Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the cockedpistol in my hand.
It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood adark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beamof light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. Beside thistable, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott, clad in a longgray dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feetthrust into red heelless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the shortstock with the long lash which we had noticed during the day. His chinwas cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stareat the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellowband, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly roundhis head. As we entered he made neither sound nor motion.
“The band! the speckled band!” whispered Holmes.
I took a step forward. In an instant his strange head-gear beganto move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squatdiamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent.
“It is a swamp adder!” cried Holmes; “the deadliest snake in India. Hehas died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth,recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which hedigs for another. Let us thrust this creature back into its den, andwe can then remove Miss Stoner to some place of shelter, and let thecounty police know what has happened.”
As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man’s lap, andthrowing the noose round the reptile’s neck, he drew it from its horridperch, and carrying it at arm’s length, threw it into the iron safe,which he closed upon it.
* * * * *
Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of StokeMoran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which hasalready run to too great a length, by telling how we broke the sad newsto the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to thecare of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of officialinquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate whileindiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yetto learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelledback next day.
“I had,” said he, “come to an entirely erroneous conclusion, whichshows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason frominsufficient data. The presence of the gypsies, and the use of theword ‘band,’ which was used by the poor girl, no doubt to explain theappearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light ofher match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. Ican only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my positionwhen, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatenedan occupant of the room could not come either from the window or thedoor. My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked toyou, to this ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to thebed. The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clampedto the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope wasthere as bridge for something passing through the hole, and comingto the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and whenI coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with asupply of creatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the righttrack. The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly bediscovered by any chemical test was just such a one as would occur to aclever and ruthless man who had had an Eastern training. The rapiditywith which such a poison would take effect would also, from his pointof view, be an advantage. It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, whocould distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show wherethe poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the whistle. Ofcourse he must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it tothe victim. He had trained it, probably by the use of the milk whichwe saw, to return to him when summoned. He would put it through thisventilator at the hour that he thought best, with the certainty that itwould crawl down the rope and land on the bed. It might or might notbite the occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a week, butsooner or later she must fall a victim.
“I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room.An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit ofstanding on it, which of course would be necessary in order that heshould reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk,and the loop of whip-cord were enough to finally dispel any doubtswhich may have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner wasobviously caused by her step-father hastily closing the door of hissafe upon its terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, you knowthe steps which I took in order to put the matter to the proof. Iheard the creature hiss, as I have no doubt that you did also, and Iinstantly lit the light and attacked it.”
“With the result of driving it through the ventilator.”
“And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at theother side. Some of the blows of my cane came home, and roused itssnakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In thisway I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott’sdeath, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon myconscience.”