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16973700000395

第395章 The Return of Sherlock Holmes(33)

“It strikes me, Williamson, there isn’t very much that we cantell this gentleman,” cried Carruthers, with a bitter laugh. “Yes,we quarreled, and he knocked me down. I am level with him onthat, anyhow. Then I lost sight of him. That was when he pickedup with this outcast padre here. I found that they had set uphousekeeping together at this place on the line that she had topass for the station. I kept my eye on her after that, for I knewthere was some devilry in the wind. I saw them from time totime, for I was anxious to know what they were after. Two daysago Woodley came up to my house with this cable, which showedthat Ralph Smith was dead. He asked me if I would stand by thebargain. I said I would not. He asked me if I would marry the girlmyself and give him a share. I said I would willingly do so, butthat she would not have me. He said, ‘Let us get her married firstand after a week or two she may see things a bit different.’ I saidI would have nothing to do with violence. So he went off cursing,like the foul-mouthed blackguard that he was, and swearing thathe would have her yet. She was leaving me this week-end, and Ihad got a trap to take her to the station, but I was so uneasy inmy mind that I followed her on my bicycle. She had got a start,however, and before I could catch her, the mischief was done. Thefirst thing I knew about it was when I saw you two gentlemendriving back in her dog-cart.”

Holmes rose and tossed the end of his cigarette into the grate.

“I have been very obtuse, Watson,” said he. “When in your reportyou said that you had seen the cyclist as you thought arrangehis necktie in the shrubbery, that alone should have told me all.

However, we may congratulate ourselves upon a curious and,in some respects, a unique case. I perceive three of the countyconstabulary in the drive, and I am glad to see that the littleostler is able to keep pace with them, so it is likely that neither henor the interesting bridegroom will be permanently damaged bytheir morning’s adventures. I think, Watson, that in your medicalcapacity, you might wait upon Miss Smith and tell her that if sheis sufficiently recovered, we shall be happy to escort her to hermother’s home. If she is not quite convalescent you will find thata hint that we were about to telegraph to a young electrician inthe Midlands would probably complete the cure. As to you, Mr.

Carruthers, I think that you have done what you could to makeamends for your share in an evil plot. There is my card, sir, and if myevidence can be of help in your trial, it shall be at your disposal.”

In the whirl of our incessant activity, it has often been difficultfor me, as the reader has probably observed, to round off mynarratives, and to give those final details which the curious mightexpect. Each case has been the prelude to another, and the crisisonce over, the actors have passed for ever out of our busy lives. Ifind, however, a short note at the end of my manuscript dealingwith this case, in which I have put it upon record that Miss VioletSmith did indeed inherit a large fortune, and that she is now thewife of Cyril Morton, the senior partner of Morton & Kennedy,the famous Westminster electricians. Williamson and Woodleywere both tried for abduction and assault, the former gettingseven years the latter ten. Of the fate of Carruthers, I have norecord, but I am sure that his assault was not viewed very gravelyby the court, since Woodley had the reputation of being a mostdangerous ruffian, and I think that a few, months were sufficientto satisfy the demands of justice.

The Adventure of the Priory School

We have had some dramatic entrances and exits upon our smallstage at Baker Street, but I cannot recollect anything more suddenand startling than the first appearance of Thorneycroft Huxtable,M.A., Ph.D., etc. His card, which seemed too small to carrythe weight of his academic distinctions, preceded him by a fewseconds, and then he entered himself—so large, so pompous, andso dignified that he was the very embodiment of self-possessionand solidity. And yet his first action, when the door had closedbehind him, was to stagger against the table, whence he slippeddown upon the floor, and there was that majestic figure prostrateand insensible upon our bearskin hearth-rug.

We had sprung to our feet, and for a few moments we stared insilent amazement at this ponderous piece of wreckage, which toldof some sudden and fatal storm far out on the ocean of life. ThenHolmes hurried with a cushion for his head, and I with brandy forhis lips. The heavy, white face was seamed with lines of trouble,the hanging pouches under the closed eyes were leaden in colour,the loose mouth drooped dolorously at the corners, the rollingchins were unshaven. Collar and shirt bore the grime of a longjourney, and the hair bristled unkempt from the well-shaped head.

It was a sorely stricken man who lay before us.

“What is it, Watson?” asked Holmes.

“Absolute exhaustion—possibly mere hunger and fatigue,” saidI, with my finger on the thready pulse, where the stream of lifetrickled thin and small.

“Return ticket from Mackleton, in the north of England,” saidHolmes, drawing it from the watch-pocket. “It is not twelve o’clockyet. He has certainly been an early starter.”

The puckered eyelids had begun to quiver, and now a pair ofvacant gray eyes looked up at us. An instant later the man hadscrambled on to his feet, his face crimson with shame.

“Forgive this weakness, Mr. Holmes, I have been a littleoverwrought. Thank you, if I might have a glass of milk and abiscuit, I have no doubt that I should be better. I came personally,Mr. Holmes, in order to insure that you would return with me.

I feared that no telegram would convince you of the absoluteurgency of the case.”

“When you are quite restored——”

“I am quite well again. I cannot imagine how I came to be soweak. I wish you, Mr. Holmes, to come to Mackleton with me bythe next train.”

My friend shook his head.

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