“House is full of Indian curiosities. Thaddeus brought this up,and if this splinter be poisonous Thaddeus may as well have mademurderous use of it as any other man. The card is some hocuspocus—a blind, as like as not. The only question is, how did hedepart? Ah, of course, here is a hole in the roof.”
With great activity, considering his bulk, he sprang up the stepsand squeezed through into the garret, and immediately afterwardswe heard his exulting voice proclaiming that he had found thetrapdoor.
“He can find something,” remarked Holmes, shrugging hisshoulders; “He has occasional glimmerings of reason. Il n’y a pasdes sots si incommodes que ceux qui ont de l’esprit!”
“You see!” said Athelney Jones, reappearing down the stepsagain; “Facts are better than theories, after all. My view of the caseis confirmed. There is a trapdoor communicating with the roof,and it is partly open.”
“It was I who opened it.”
“Oh, indeed! You did notice it, then?” He seemed a littlecrestfallen at the discovery. “Well, whoever noticed it, it showshow our gentleman got away. Inspector!”
“Yes, sir,” from the passage.
“Ask Mr. Sholto to step this way.—Mr. Sholto, it is my duty toinform you that anything which you may say will be used againstyou. I arrest you in the queen’s name as being concerned in thedeath of your brother.”
“There, now! Didn’t I tell you!” cried the poor little man,throwing out his hands and looking from one to the other of us.
“Don’t trouble yourself about it, Mr. Sholto,” said Holmes; “Ithink that I can engage to clear you of the charge.”
“Don’t promise too much, Mr. Theorist, don’t promise toomuch!” snapped the detective. “You may find it a harder matterthan you think.”
“Not only will I clear him, Mr. Jones, but I will make you a freepresent of the name and deion of one of the two peoplewho were in this room last night. His name, I have every reasonto believe, is Jonathan Small. He is a poorly educated man, small,active, with his right leg off, and wearing a wooden stump which isworn away upon the inner side. His left boot has a coarse, squaretoedsole, with an iron band round the heel. He is a middleagedman, much sunburned, and has been a convict. These fewindications may be of some assistance to you, coupled with thefact that there is a good deal of skin missing from the palm of hishand. The other man—”
“Ah! the other man—?” asked Athelney Jones in a sneering voice,but impressed none the less, as I could easily see, by the precisionof the other’s manner.
“Is a rather curious person,” said Sherlock Holmes, turningupon his heel. “I hope before very long to be able to introduce youto the pair of them. A word with you, Watson.”
He led me out to the head of the stair.
“This unexpected occurrence,” he said, “has caused us rather tolose sight of the original purpose of our journey.”
“I have just been thinking so,” I answered; “It is not right thatMiss Morstan should remain in this stricken house.”
“No. You must escort her home. She lives with Mrs. CecilForrester in Lower Camberwell, so it is not very far. I will wait foryou here if you will drive out again. Or perhaps you are too tired?”
“By no means. I don’t think I could rest until I know more ofthis fantastic business. I have seen something of the rough side oflife, but I give you my word that this quick succession of strangesurprises to-night has shaken my nerve completely. I should like,however, to see the matter through with you, now that I have gotso far.”
“Your presence will be of great service to me,” he answered. “Weshall work the case out independently and leave this fellow Jonesto exult over any mare’s-nest which he may choose to construct.
When you have dropped Miss Morstan I wish you to go on toNo. 3 Pinchin Lane, down near the water’s edge at Lambeth.
The third house on the right-hand side is a bird-stuffer’s;Sherman is the name. You will see a weasel holding a young rabbitin the window. Knock old Sherman up and tell him, with mycompliments, that I want Toby at once. You will bring Toby backin the cab with you.”
“A dog, I suppose.”
“Yes, a queer mongrel with a most amazing power of scent. Iwould rather have Toby’s help than that of the whole detectiveforce of London.”
“I shall bring him then,” said I. “It is one now. I ought to beback before three, if I can get a fresh horse.”
“And I,” said Holmes, “shall see what I can learn from Mrs.
Bernstone and from the Indian servant, who, Mr. Thaddeus tellme, sleeps in the next garret. Then I shall study the great Jones’smethods and listen to his not too delicate sarcasms. ‘Wir sindgewohnt dass die Menschen verh?ehnen was sie nicht verstehen.Goethe is always pithy.
