Leon Sterndale’s account was true. It appears that he did indeedspend last night there, and that he has actually allowed some of hisbaggage to go on to Africa, while he returned to be present at thisinvestigation. What do you make of that, Watson?”
“He is deeply interested.”
“Deeply interested—yes. There is a thread here which we hadnot yet grasped and which might lead us through the tangle.
Cheer up, Watson, for I am very sure that our material has not yetall come to hand. When it does we may soon leave our difficultiesbehind us.”
Little did I think how soon the words of Holmes would berealized, or how strange and sinister would be that new developmentwhich opened up an entirely fresh line of investigation. I wasshaving at my window in the morning when I heard the rattle ofhoofs and, looking up, saw a dog-cart coming at a gallop down theroad. It pulled up at our door, and our friend, the vicar, sprangfrom it and rushed up our garden path. Holmes was alreadydressed, and we hastened down to meet him.
Our visitor was so excited that he could hardly articulate, but atlast in gasps and bursts his tragic story came out of him.
“We are devil-ridden, Mr. Holmes! My poor parish is devilridden!”
he cried. “Satan himself is loose in it! We are given overinto his hands!” He danced about in his agitation, a ludicrousobject if it were not for his ashy face and startled eyes. Finally heshot out his terrible news.
“Mr. Mortimer Tregennis died during the night, and with exactlythe same symptoms as the rest of his family.”
Holmes sprang to his feet, all energy in an instant.
“Can you fit us both into your dog-cart?”
“Yes, I can.”
“Then, Watson, we will postpone our breakfast. Mr. Roundhay,we are entirely at your disposal. Hurry—hurry, before things getdisarranged.”
The lodger occupied two rooms at the vicarage, which werein an angle by themselves, the one above the other. Below was alarge sitting-room; above, his bedroom. They looked out upona croquet lawn which came up to the windows. We had arrivedbefore the doctor or the police, so that everything was absolutelyundisturbed. Let me describe exactly the scene as we saw it uponthat misty March morning. It has left an impression which cannever be effaced from my mind.
The atmosphere of the room was of a horrible and depressingstuffiness. The servant who had first entered had thrown up thewindow, or it would have been even more intolerable. This mightpartly be due to the fact that a lamp stood flaring and smokingon the centre table. Beside it sat the dead man, leaning back inhis chair, his thin beard projecting, his spectacles pushed up on tohis forehead, and his lean dark face turned towards the windowand twisted into the same distortion of terror which had markedthe features of his dead sister. His limbs were convulsed and hisfingers contorted as though he had died in a very paroxysm of fear.
He was fully clothed, though there were signs that his dressinghad been done in a hurry. We had already learned that his bed hadbeen slept in, and that the tragic end had come to him in the earlymorning.
One realized the red-hot energy which underlay Holmes’sphlegmatic exterior when one saw the sudden change which cameover him from the moment that he entered the fatal apartment.
In an instant he was tense and alert, his eyes shining, his face set,his limbs quivering with eager activity. He was out on the lawn, inthrough the window, round the room, and up into the bedroom,for all the world like a dashing foxhound drawing a cover. In thebedroom he made a rapid cast around and ended by throwingopen the window, which appeared to give him some fresh causefor excitement, for he leaned out of it with loud ejaculations ofinterest and delight. Then he rushed down the stair, out throughthe open window, threw himself upon his face on the lawn, sprangup and into the room once more, all with the energy of the hunterwho is at the very heels of his quarry. The lamp, which was anordinary standard, he examined with minute care, making certainmeasurements upon its bowl. He carefully scrutinized with his lensthe talc shield which covered the top of the chimney and scrapedoff some ashes which adhered to its upper surface, putting some ofthem into an envelope, which he placed in his pocketbook. Finally,just as the doctor and the official police put in an appearance, hebeckoned to the vicar and we all three went out upon the lawn.
“I am glad to say that my investigation has not been entirelybarren,” he remarked. “I cannot remain to discuss the matter withthe police, but I should be exceedingly obliged, Mr. Roundhay,if you would give the inspector my compliments and direct hisattention to the bedroom window and to the sitting-room lamp.
Each is suggestive, and together they are almost conclusive. If thepolice would desire further information I shall be happy to see anyof them at the cottage. And now, Watson, I think that, perhaps,we shall be better employed elsewhere.”
It may be that the police resented the intrusion of an amateur,or that they imagined themselves to be upon some hopeful line ofinvestigation; but it is certain that we heard nothing from themfor the next two days. During this time Holmes spent some of histime smoking and dreaming in the cottage; but a greater portionin country walks which he undertook alone, returning after manyhours without remark as to where he had been. One experimentserved to show me the line of his investigation. He had boughta lamp which was the duplicate of the one which had burned inthe room of Mortimer Tregennis on the morning of the tragedy.
This he filled with the same oil as that used at the vicarage, andhe carefully timed the period which it would take to be exhausted.
Another experiment which he made was of a more unpleasantnature, and one which I am not likely ever to forget.
