"Holmes,"
said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down the street, "here
is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad that his relatives should allow
him to come out alone."
My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood
with his hands in the pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder.
It was a bright, crisp February morning, and the snow of the day before still
lay deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun. Down the center
of Baker Street it had been ploughed into a brown crumbly band by the traffic,
but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of the foot-paths it still lay as
white as when it fell. The gray pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but was
still dangerously slippery, so that there were fewer passengers than usual.
Indeed, from the direction of the Metropolitan
Station no one was coming save the single gentleman whose eccentric conduct had
drawn my attention. He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with
a massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed in a sombre
yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat, neat brown gaiters, and well-cut
pearl-gray trousers. Yet his actions were in absurd contrast to the dignity of
his dress and features, for he was running hard, with occasional little springs,
such as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs.
As he ran he jerked his hands up and down, waggled his head, and writhed his face
into the most extraordinary contortions.
"What on earth can be the matter with him?" I asked.
"He is looking up at the numbers of the houses."
"I believe that he is coming here," said Holmes,
rubbing his hands.
"Here?"
"Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me
professionally. I think that I recognize the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?"
As he spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed
at our door and pulled at our bell until the whole house resounded with the clanging.
A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still gesticulating, but
with so fixed a look of grief and despair in his eyes that our smiles were turned
in an instant to horror and pity. For a while he could not get his words out,
but swayed his body and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the
extreme limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat his
head against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon him and tore him
away to the center of the room.
Sherlock Holmes pushed him down into the easy-chair
and, sitting beside him, patted his hand and chatted with him in the easy, soothing
tones which he knew so well how to employ. "You have come to me to tell your story,
have you not?" said he. "You are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you
have recovered yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into any little
problem which you may submit to me."
The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving
chest, fighting against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his
brow, set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us. "No doubt you think
me mad?" said he.
"I see that you have had some great trouble," responded
Holmes.
"God knows I have!—a trouble which is enough
to unseat my reason, so sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might
have faced, although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain. Private
affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming together, and in so
frightful a form, have been enough to shake my very soul. Besides, it is not I
alone. The very noblest in the land may suffer unless some way be found out of
this horrible affair."
"Pray compose yourself, sir," said Holmes, "And
let me have a clear account of who you are and what it is that has befallen you."
"My name," answered our visitor, "Is probably familiar
to your ears. I am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & Stevenson,
of Threadneedle Street."
The name was indeed well known to us as belonging
to the senior partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City
of London. What could have happened, then, to bring one of the foremost citizens
of London to this most pitiable pass? We waited, all curiosity, until with another
effort he braced himself to tell his story.
"I feel that time is of value," said he; "That
is why I hastened here when the police inspector suggested that I should secure
your cooperation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried from there
on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this snow. That is why I was so out of
breath, for I am a man who takes very little exercise. I feel better now, and
I will put the facts before you as shortly and yet as clearly as I can.
"It is, of course, well known to you that in a
successful banking business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative
investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection and the number
of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means of laying out money is in the
shape of loans, where the security is unimpeachable. We have done a good deal
in this direction during the last few years, and there are many noble families
to whom we have advanced large sums upon the security of their pictures, libraries,
or plate.
"Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at
the bank when a card was brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when
I saw the name, for it was that of none other than—well, perhaps even to
you I had better say no more than that it was a name which is a household word
all over the earth—one of the highest, noblest, most exalted names in England.
I was overwhelmed by the honor and attempted, when he entered, to say so, but
he plunged at once into business with the air of a man who wishes to hurry quickly
through a disagreeable task.
"'Mr. Holder,' said he, 'I have been informed that
you are in the habit of advancing money.'
"'The firm does so when the security is good.'
I answered.
"'It is absolutely essential to me,' said he, 'that
I should have 50'000 pounds at once. I could, of course, borrow so trifling a
sum ten times over from my friends, but I much prefer to make it a matter of business
and to carry out that business myself. In my position you can readily understand
that it is unwise to place one's self under obligations.'
"'For how long, may I ask, do you want this sum?'
I asked.
"'Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and
I shall then most certainly repay what you advance, with whatever interest you
think it right to charge. But it is very essential to me that the money should
be paid at once.'
"'I should be happy to advance it without further
parley from my own private purse,' said I, 'were it not that the strain would
be rather more than it could bear. If, on the other hand, I am to do it in the
name of the firm, then in justice to my partner I must insist that, even in your
case, every businesslike precaution should be taken.'
"'I should much prefer to have it so,' said he,
raising up a square, black morocco case which he had laid beside his chair. 'You
have doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?'
"'One of the most precious public possessions of
the empire,' said I.
"'Precisely.' He opened the case, and there, imbedded
in soft, flesh-colored velvet, lay the magnificent piece of jewellery which he
had named. 'There are thirty-nine enormous beryls,' said he, 'and the price of
the gold chasing is incalculable. The lowest estimate would put the worth of the
coronet at double the sum which I have asked. I am prepared to leave it with you
as my security.'
"I took the precious case into my hands and looked
in some perplexity from it to my illustrious client.
"'You doubt its value?' he asked.
"'Not at all. I only doubt —'
"'The propriety of my leaving it. You may set your
mind at rest about that. I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely
certain that I should be able in four days to reclaim it. It is a pure matter
of form. Is the security sufficient?'
"'Ample.'
"'You understand, Mr. Holder, that I am giving
you a strong proof of the confidence which I have in you, founded upon all that
I have heard of you. I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to refrain from
all gossip upon the matter but, above all, to preserve this coronet with every
possible precaution because I need not say that a great public scandal would be
caused if any harm were to befall it. Any injury to it would be almost as serious
as its complete loss, for there are no beryls in the world to match these, and
it would be impossible to replace them. I leave it with you, however, with every
confidence, and I shall call for it in person on Monday morning.'
"Seeing that my client was anxious to leave, I
said no more but, calling for my cashier, I ordered him to pay over fifty 1000
pound notes. When I was alone once more, however, with the precious case lying
upon the table in front of me, I could not but think with some misgivings of the
immense responsibility which it entailed upon me. There could be no doubt that,
as it was a national possession, a horrible scandal would ensue if any misfortune
should occur to it. I already regretted having ever consented to take charge of
it. However, it was too late to alter the matter now, so I locked it up in my
private safe and turned once more to my work.
"When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence
to leave so precious a thing in the office behind me. Bankers' safes had been
forced before now, and why should not mine be? If so, how terrible would be the
position in which I should find myself! I determined, therefore, that for the
next few days I would always carry the case backward and forward with me, so that
it might never be really out of my reach. With this intention, I called a cab
and drove out to my house at Streatham, carrying the jewel with me. I did not
breathe freely until I had taken it upstairs and locked it in the bureau of my
dressing-room.
"And now a word as to my household, Mr. Holmes,
for I wish you to thoroughly understand the situation. My groom and my page sleep
out of the house, and may be set aside altogether. I have three maid-servants
who have been with me a number of years and whose absolute reliability is quite
above suspicion. Another, Lucy Parr, the second waiting-maid, has only been in
my service a few months. She came with an excellent character, however, and has
always given me satisfaction. She is a very pretty girl and has attracted admirers
who have occasionally hung about the place. That is the only drawback which we
have found to her, but we believe her to be a thoroughly good girl in every way.
"So much for the servants. My family itself is
so small that it will not take me long to describe it. I am a widower and have
an only son, Arthur. He has been a disappointment to me, Mr. Holmes— a grievous
disappointment. I have no doubt that I am myself to blame. People tell me that
I have spoiled him. Very likely I have. When my dear wife died I felt that he
was all I had to love. I could not bear to see the smile fade even for a moment
from his face. I have never denied him a wish. Perhaps it would have been better
for both of us had I been sterner, but I meant it for the best.
"It was naturally my intention that he should succeed
me in my business, but he was not of a business turn. He was wild, wayward, and,
to speak the truth, I could not trust him in the handling of large sums of money.
When he was young he became a member of an aristocratic club, and there, having
charming manners, he was soon the intimate of a number of men with long purses
and expensive habits. He learned to play heavily at cards and to squander money
on the turf, until he had again and again to come to me and implore me to give
him an advance upon his allowance, that he might settle his debts of honor. He
tried more than once to break away from the dangerous company which he was keeping,
but each time the influence of his friend, Sir George Burnwell, was enough to
draw him back again.
"And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man
as Sir George Burnwell should gain an influence over him, for he has frequently
brought him to my house, and I have found myself that I could hardly resist the
fascination of his manner. He is older than Arthur, a man of the world to his
finger-tips, one who had been everywhere, seen everything, a brilliant talker,
and a man of great personal beauty. Yet when I think of him in cold blood, far
away from the glamour of his presence, I am convinced from his cynical speech
and the look which I have caught in his eyes that he is one who should be deeply
distrusted. So I think, and so, too, thinks my little Mary, who has a woman's
quick insight into character.
"And now there is only she to be described. She
is my niece; but when my brother died five years ago and left her alone in the
world I adopted her, and have looked upon her ever since as my daughter. She is
a sunbeam in my house—sweet, loving, beautiful, a wonderful manager and housekeeper,
yet as tender and quiet and gentle as a woman could be. She is my right hand.
I do not know what I could do without her. In only one matter has she ever gone
against my wishes. Twice my boy has asked her to marry him, for he loves her devotedly,
but each time she has refused him. I think that if anyone could have drawn him
into the right path it would have been she, and that his marriage might have changed
his whole life; but now, alas! it is too late—forever too late!
"Now, Mr. Holmes, you know the people who live
under my roof, and I shall continue with my miserable story.
"When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room
that night after dinner, I told Arthur and Mary my experience, and of the precious
treasure which we had under our roof, suppressing only the name of my client.
Lucy Parr, who had brought in the coffee, had, I am sure, left the room; but I
cannot swear that the door was closed. Mary and Arthur were much interested and
wished to see the famous coronet, but I thought it better not to disturb it.
"'Where have you put it?' asked Arthur.
"'In my own bureau.'
"'Well, I hope to goodness the house won't be burgled
during the night.' said he.
"'It is locked up,' I answered.
"'Oh, any old key will fit that bureau. When I
was a youngster I have opened it myself with the key of the box-room cupboard.'
"He often had a wild way of talking, so that I
thought little of what he said. He followed me to my room, however, that night
with a very grave face.
"'Look here, dad,' said he with his eyes cast down,
'can you let me have 200 pounds?'
"'No, I cannot!' I answered sharply. 'I have been
far too generous with you in money matters.'
"'You have been very kind,' said he, 'but I must
have this money, or else I can never show my face inside the club again.'
"'And a very good thing, too!' I cried.
"'Yes, but you would not have me leave it a dishonored
man,' said he. 'I could not bear the disgrace. I must raise the money in some
way, and if you will not let me have it, then I must try other means.'
"I was very angry, for this was the third demand
during the month. 'You shall not have a farthing from me,' I cried, on which he
bowed and left the room without another word.
"When he was gone I unlocked my bureau, made sure
that my treasure was safe, and locked it again. Then I started to go round the
house to see that all was secure—a duty which I usually leave to Mary but
which I thought it well to perform myself that night. As I came down the stairs
I saw Mary herself at the side window of the hall, which she closed and fastened
as I approached.
"'Tell me, dad,' said she, looking, I thought,
a little disturbed, 'did you give Lucy, the maid, leave to go out to-night?'
"'Certainly not.'
"'She came in just now by the back door. I have
no doubt that she has only been to the side gate to see someone, but I think that
it is hardly safe and should be stopped.'
"'You must speak to her in the morning, or I will
if you prefer it. Are you sure that everything is fastened?'
"'Quite sure, dad.'
"'Then. good-night.' I kissed her and went up to
my bedroom again, where I was soon asleep.
"I am endeavoring to tell you everything, Mr. Holmes,
which may have any bearing upon the case, but I beg that you will question me
upon any point which I do not make clear."
"On the contrary, your statement is singularly
lucid."
"I come to a part of my story now in which I should
wish to be particularly so. I am not a very heavy sleeper, and the anxiety in
my mind tended, no doubt, to make me even less so than usual. About two in the
morning, then, I was awakened by some sound in the house. It had ceased ere I
was wide awake, but it had left an impression behind it as though a window had
gently closed somewhere. I lay listening with all my ears. Suddenly, to my horror,
there was a distinct sound of footsteps moving softly in the next room. I slipped
out of bed, all palpitating with fear, and peeped round the comer of my dressing-room
door.
"'Arthur!' I screamed, 'you villain! you thief!
How dare you touch that coronet?'
"The gas was half up, as I had left it, and my
unhappy boy, dressed only in his shirt and trousers, was standing beside the light,
holding the coronet in his hands. He appeared to be wrenching at it, or bending
it with all his strength. At my cry he dropped it from his grasp and turned as
pale as death. I snatched it up and examined it. One of the gold corners, with
three of the beryls in it, was missing. "'You blackguard!' I shouted, beside myself
with rage. 'You have destroyed it! You have dishonored me forever! Where are the
jewels which you have stolen?'
"'Stolen!' he cried.
"'Yes, thief!' I roared, shaking him by the shoulder.
"'There are none missing. There cannot be any missing,'
said he.
"'There are three missing. And you know where they
are. Must I call you a liar as well as a thief? Did I not see you trying to tear
off another piece?'
"'You have called me names enough,' said he, 'I
will not stand it any longer. I shall not say another word about this business,
since you have chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in the morning and
make my own way in the world.'
"'You shall leave it in the hands of the police!'
I cried half-mad with grief and rage. 'I shall have this matter probed to the
bottom.'
"'You shall learn nothing from me,' said he with
a passion such as I should not have thought was in his nature. 'If you choose
to call the police, let the police find what they can.'
"By this time the whole house was astir, for I
had raised my voice in my anger. Mary was the first to rush into my room, and,
at the sight of the coronet and of Arthur's face, she read the whole story and,
with a scream, fell down senseless on the ground. I sent the house-maid for the
police and put the investigation into their hands at once.
When the inspector and a constable entered the
house, Arthur, who had stood sullenly with his arms folded, asked me whether it
was my intention to charge him with theft. I answered that it had ceased to be
a private matter, but had become a public one, since the ruined coronet was national
property. I was determined that the law should have its way in everything.
"'At least,' said he, 'you will not have me arrested
at once. It would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the house
for five minutes.'
"'That you may get away, or perhaps that you may
conceal what you have stolen,' said I. And then, realizing the dreadful position
in which I was placed, I implored him to remember that not only my honor but that
of one who was far greater than I was at stake; and that he threatened to raise
a scandal which would convulse the nation. He might avert it all if he would but
tell me what he had done with the three missing stones.
"'You may as well face the matter,' said I; 'you
have been caught in the act, and no confession could make your guilt more heinous.
If you but make such reparation as is in your power, by telling us where the beryls
are, all shall be forgiven and forgotten.'
"'Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it,'
he answered, turning away from me with a sneer.
I saw that he was too hardened for any words of
mine to influence him. There was but one way for it. I called in the inspector
and gave him into custody. A search was made at once not only of his person but
of his room and of every portion of the house where he could possibly have concealed
the gems; but no trace of them could be found, nor would the wretched boy open
his mouth for all our persuasions and our threats. This morning he was removed
to a cell, and I, after going through all the police formalities, have hurried
round to you to implore you to use your skill in unravelling the matter. The police
have openly confessed that they can at present make nothing of it. You may go
to any expense which you think necessary. I have already offered a reward of 1000
pounds. My God, what shall I do! I have lost my honor, my gems, and my son in
one night. Oh, what shall I do!" He put a hand on either side of his head and
rocked himself to and fro, droning to himself like a child whose grief has got
beyond words.
Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes,
with his brows knitted and his eyes fixed upon the fire. "Do you receive much
company?" he asked.
"None save my partner with his family and an occasional
friend of Arthur's. Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately. No one
else, I think."
"Do you go out much in society?"
"Arthur does. Mary and I stay at home. We neither
of us care for it."
"That is unusual in a young girl."
"She is of a quiet nature. Besides, she is not
so very young. She is four-and-twenty."
"This matter, from what you say, seems to have
been a shock to her also."
"Terrible! She is even more affected than I."
"You have neither of you any doubt as to your son's
guilt?"
"How can we have when I saw him with my own eyes
with the coronet in his hands."
"I hardly consider that a conclusive proof. Was
the remainder of the coronet at all injured?"
"Yes, it was twisted."
"Do you not think, then, that he might have been
trying to straighten it?"
"God bless you! You are doing what you can for
him and for me. But it is too heavy a task. What was he doing there at all? If
his purpose were innocent, why did he not say so?"
"Precisely. And if it were guilty, why did he not
invent a lie? His silence appears to me to cut both ways. There are several singular
points about the case. What did the police think of the noise which awoke you
from your sleep?"
"They considered that it might be caused by Arthur's
closing his bedroom door."
"A likely story! As if a man bent on felony would
slam his door so as to wake a household. What did they say, then, of the disappearance
of these gems?"
"They are still sounding the planking and probing
the furniture in the hope of finding them."
"Have they thought of looking outside the house?"
"Yes, they have shown extraordinary energy. The
whole garden has already been minutely examined."
"Now, my dear sir," said Holmes. "Is it not obvious
to you now that this matter really strikes very much deeper than either you or
the police were at first inclined to think? It appeared to you to be a simple
case; to me it seems exceedingly complex. Consider what is involved by your theory.
You suppose that your son came down from his bed, went, at great risk, to your
dressing-room, opened your bureau, took out your coronet, broke off by main force
a small portion of it, went off to some other place, concealed three gems out
of the thirty-nine, with such skill that nobody can find them, and then returned
with the other thirty-six into the room in which he exposed himself to the greatest
danger of being discovered. I ask you now, is such a theory tenable?"
"But what other is there?" cried the banker with
a gesture of despair. "If his motives were innocent, why does he not explain them?"
"It is our task to find that out," replied Holmes;
"So now, if you please, Mr. Holder, we will set off for Streatham together, and
devote an hour to glancing a little more closely into details."
My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in
their expedition, which I was eager enough to do, for my curiosity and sympathy
were deeply stirred by the story to which we had listened. I confess that the
guilt of the banker's son appeared to me to be as obvious as it did to his unhappy
father, but still I had such faith in Holmes's judgment that I felt that there
must be some grounds for hope as long as he was dissatisfied with the accepted
explanation. He hardly spoke a word the whole way out to the southern suburb,
but sat with his chin upon his breast and his hat drawn over his eyes, sunk in
the deepest thought. Our client appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little
glimpse of hope which had been presented to him, and he even broke into a desultory
chat with me over his business affairs.
A short railway journey and a shorter walk brought
us to Fairbank, the modest residence of the great financier. Fairbank was a good-sized
square house of white stone, standing back a little from the road. A double carriage-sweep,
with a snow-clad lawn, stretched down in front to two large iron gates which closed
the entrance. On the right side was a small wooden thicket, which led into a narrow
path between two neat hedges stretching from the road to the kitchen door, and
forming the tradesmen's entrance. On the left ran a lane which led to the stables,
and was not itself within the grounds at all, being a public, though little used,
thoroughfare.
Holmes left us standing at the door and walked
slowly all round the house, across the front, down the tradesmen's path, and so
round by the garden behind into the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder
and I went into the dining-room and waited by the fire until he should return.
We were sitting there in silence when the door opened and a young lady came in.
She was rather above the middle height, slim, with dark hair and eyes, which seemed
the darker against the absolute pallor of her skin. I do not think that I have
ever seen such deadly paleness in a woman's face. Her lips, too, were bloodless,
but her eyes were flushed with crying. As she swept silently into the room she
impressed me with a greater sense of grief than the banker had done in the morning,
and it was the more striking in her as she was evidently a woman of strong character,
with immense capacity for self-restraint. Disregarding my presence, she went straight
to her uncle and passed her hand over his head with a sweet womanly caress.
"You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated,
have you not, dad?" she asked.
"No, no, my girl, the matter must be probed to
the bottom."
"But I am so sure that he is innocent. You know
what woman's instincts are. I know that he has done no harm and that you will
be sorry for having acted so harshly."
"Why is he silent, then, if he is innocent?"
"Who knows? Perhaps because he was so angry that
you should suspect him."
"How could I help suspecting him, when I actually
saw him with the coronet in his hand?"
"Oh, but he had only picked it up to look at it.
Oh, do, do take my word for it that he is innocent. Let the matter drop and say
no more. It is so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in prison!"
"I shall never let it drop until the gems are found—never,
Mary! Your affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful consequences to me.
Far from hushing the thing up, I have brought a gentleman down from London to
inquire more deeply into it."
"This gentleman?" she asked, facing round to me.
"No, his friend. He wished us to leave him alone.
He is round in the stable lane now."
"The stable lane?" She raised her dark eyebrows.
"What can he hope to find there? Ah! this, I suppose, is he. I trust, sir, that
you will succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth, that my cousin Arthur
is innocent of this crime."
"I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with
you, that we may prove it," returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the
snow from his shoes. "I believe I have the honor of addressing Miss Mary Holder.
Might I ask you a question or two?"
"Pray do, sir, if it may help to clear this horrible
affair up."
"You heard nothing yourself last night?"
"Nothing, until my uncle here began to speak loudly.
I heard that, and I came down."
"You shut up the windows and doors the night before.
Did you fasten all the windows?"
"Yes."
"Were they all fastened this morning?"
"Yes."
"You have a maid who has a sweetheart? I think
that you remarked to your uncle last night that she had been out to see him?"
"Yes, and she was the girl who waited in the drawing-room.
and who may have heard uncle's remarks about the coronet."
"I see. You infer that she may have gone out to
tell her sweetheart, and that the two may have planned the robbery."
"But what is the good of all these vague theories,"
cried the banker impatiently, "when I have told you that I saw Arthur with the
coronet in his hands?"
"Wait a little, Mr. Holder. We must come back to
that. About this girl, Miss Holder. You saw her return by the kitchen door, I
presume?"
"Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened
for the night I met her slipping in. I saw the man, too, in the gloom."
"Do you know him?"
"Oh, yes! he is the green-grocer who brings our
vegetables round. His name is Francis Prosper."
"He stood," said Holmes, "To the left of the door—that
is to say, farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door?"
"Yes, he did."
"And he is a man with a wooden leg?"
Something like fear sprang up in the young lady's
expressive black eyes. "Why, you are like a magician," said she. "How do you know
that?" She smiled, but there was no answering smile in Holmes's thin, eager face.
"I should be very glad now to go upstairs," said
he. "I shall probably wish to go over the outside of the house again. Perhaps
I had better take a look at the lower windows before I go up." He walked swiftly
round from one to the other, pausing only at the large one which looked from the
hall onto the stable lane. This he opened and made a very careful examination
of the sill with his powerful magnifying lens.
"Now we shall go upstairs," said he at last. The
banker's dressing-room was a plainly furnished little chamber, with a gray carpet,
a large bureau, and a long mirror. Holmes went to the bureau first and looked
hard at the lock. "Which key was used to open it?" he asked.
"That which my son himself indicated—that
of the cupboard of the lumber-room."
"Have you it here?"
"That is it on the dressing-table."
Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau.
"It is a noiseless lock," said he. "It is no wonder that it did not wake you.
This case, I presume, contains the coronet. We must have a look at it." He opened
the case, and taking out the diadem he laid it upon the table. It was a magnificent
specimen of the jeweller's art, and the thirty-six stones were the finest that
I have ever seen. At one side of the coronet was a cracked edge, where a corner
holding three gems had been torn away.
"Now, Mr. Holder," said Holmes, "here is the corner
which corresponds to that which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I beg that
you will break it off."
The banker recoiled in horror. "I should not dream
of trying," said he.
"Then I will." Holmes suddenly bent his strength
upon it, but without result. "I feel it give a little," said he; "but, though
I am exceptionally strong in the fingers, it would take me all my time to break
it. An ordinary man could not do it. Now, what do you think would happen if I
did break it, Mr. Holder? There would be a noise like a pistol shot. Do you tell
me that all this happened within a few yards of your bed and that you heard nothing
of it?"
"I do not know what to think. It is all dark to
me."
"But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go. What
do you think, Miss Holder?"
"I confess that I still share my uncle's perplexity."
"Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you
saw him?"
"He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt."
"Thank you. We have certainly been favored with
extraordinary luck during this inquiry, and it will be entirely our own fault
if we do not succeed in clearing the matter up. With your pemmission, Mr. Holder,
I shall now continue my investigations outside."
He went alone, at his own request, for he explained
that any unnecessary footmarks might make his task more difficult. For an hour
or more he was at work, returning at last with his feet heavy with snow and his
features as inscrutable as ever. "I think that I have seen now all that there
is to see, Mr. Holder," said he; "I can serve you best by returning to my rooms."
"But the gems, Mr. Holmes. Where are they?"
"I cannot tell."
The banker wrung his hands. "I shall never see
them again!" he cried.
"And my son? You give me hopes?"
"My opinion is in no way altered."
"Then, for God's sake, what was this dark business
which was acted in my house last night?"
"If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms
to-morrow morning between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to make
it clearer. I understand that you give me carte blanche to act for you, provided
only that I get back the gems, and that you place no limit on the sum I may draw."
"I would give my fortune to have them back."
"Very good. I shall look into the matter between
this and then. Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over here
again before evening."
It was obvious to me that my companion's mind was
now made up about the case, although what his conclusions were was more than I
could even dimly imagine. Several times during our homeward journey I endeavored
to sound him upon the point, but he always glided away to some other topic, until
at last I gave it over in despair. It was not yet three when we found ourselves
in our rooms once more. He hurried to his chamber and was down again in a few
minutes dressed as a common loafer. With his collar turned up, his shiny, seedy
coat, his red cravat, and his worn boots, he was a perfect sample of the class.
"I think that this should do," said he, glancing
into the glass above the fireplace. "I only wish that you could come with me,
Watson, but I fear that it won't do. I may be on the trail in this matter, or
I may be following a will-o'-the-wisp, but I shall soon know which it is. I hope
that I may be back in a few hours." He cut a slice of beef from the joint upon
the sideboard, sandwiched it between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this rude
meal into his pocket he started off upon his expedition.
I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently
in excellent spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his hand. He chucked
it down into a corner and helped himself to a cup of tea.
"I only looked in as I passed," said he. "I am
going right on."
"Where to?"
"Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may
be some time before I get back. Don't wait up for me in case I should be late."
"How are you getting on?"
"Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been
out to Streatham since I saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It is
a very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for a good deal. However,
I must not sit gossiping here, but must get these disreputable clothes off and
return to my highly respectable self."
I could see by his manner that he had stronger
reasons for satisfaction than his words alone would imply. His eyes twinkled,
and there was even a touch of color upon his sallow cheeks. He hastened upstairs,
and a few minutes later I heard the slam of the hall door, which told me that
he was off once more upon his congenial hunt. I waited until midnight, but there
was no sign of his return, so I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for
him to be away for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that
his lateness caused me no surprise. I do not know at what hour he came in, but
when I came down to breakfast in the morning there he was with a cup of coffee
in one hand and the paper in the other, as fresh and trim as possible.
"You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson,"
said he, "but you remember that our client has rather an early appointment this
morning."
"Why, it is after nine now," I answered.
"I should not be surprised if that were he. I thought
I heard a ring." It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the
change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broad and
massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair seemed to me at least
a shade whiter. He entered with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful
than his violence of the morning before, and he dropped heavily into the armchair
which I pushed forward for him.
"I do not know what I have done to be so severely
tried," said he. "Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without
a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonored age. One sorrow
comes close upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has deserted me."
"Deserted you?"
"Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in,
her room was empty, and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said to her
last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had married my boy all might
have been well with him. Perhaps it was thoughtless of me to say so. It is to
that remark that she refers in this note:
"'MY DEAREST UNCLE:—I
feel that I have brought trouble upon you, and that if I had acted differently
this terrible misfortune might never have occurred. I cannot, with this thought
in my mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must leave
you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is provided for; and, above
all, do not search for me, for it will be fruitless labour and an ill-service
to me. In life or in death, I am ever your loving MARY.'
"What could she mean by that note, Mr. Holmes?
Do you think it points to suicide?"
"No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the
best possible solution. I trust, Mr. Holder, that you are nearing the end of your
troubles."
"Ha! You say so! You have heard something, Mr.
Holmes; you have learned something! Where are the gems?"
"You would not think 1000 pounds apiece an excessive
sum for them?"
"I would pay ten."
"That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will
cover the matter. And there is a little reward, I fancy. Have you your check-book?
Here is a pen. Better make it out for 4000 pounds." With a dazed face the banker
made out the required check. Holmes walked over to his desk, took out a little
triangular piece of gold with three gems in it, and threw it down upon the table.
With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up.
"You have it!" he gasped.
"I am saved! I am saved!" The reaction of joy was
as passionate as his grief had been, and he hugged his recovered gems to his bosom.
"There is one other thing you owe, Mr. Holder,"
said Sherlock Holmes rather sternly.
"Owe!" He caught up a pen. "Name the sum, and I
will pay it."
"No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble
apology to that noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as
I should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have one."
"Then it was not Arthur who took them?"
"I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that
it was not."
"You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at
once to let him know that the truth is known."
"He knows it already. When I had cleared it all
up I had an interview with him, and finding that he would not tell me the story,
I told it to him, on which he had to confess that I was right and to add the very
few details which were not yet quite clear to me. Your news of this morning, however,
may open his lips."
"For heaven's sake, tell me, then, what is this
extraordinary mystery !"
"I will do so, and I will show you the steps by
which I reached it. And let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for
me to say and for you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir George
Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now fled together."
"My Mary? Impossible!"
"It is unfortunately more than possible; it is
certain. Neither you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you
admitted him into your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in England—a
ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man without heart or conscience.
Your niece knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his vows to her, as he had
done to a hundred before her, she flattered herself that she alone had touched
his heart. The devil knows best what he said, but at least she became his tool
and was in the habit of seeing him nearly every evening."
"I cannot, and I will not, believe it!" cried the
banker with an ashen face.
"I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house
last night. Your niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room. slipped
down and talked to her lover through the window which leads into the stable lane.
His footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had he stood there.
She told him of the coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and
he bent her to his will. I have no doubt that she loved you, but there are women
in whom the love of a lover extinguishes all other loves, and I think that she
must have been one. She had hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you
coming downstairs, on which she closed the window rapidly and told you about one
of the servants' escapade with her wooden-legged lover, which was all perfectly
true.
"Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview
with you but he slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts.
In the middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door, so he rose and,
looking out, was surprised to see his cousin walking very stealthily along the
passage until she disappeared into your dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment.
the lad slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to see what would
come of this strange affair. Presently she emerged from the room again, and in
the light of the passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious coronet
in her hands. She passed down the stairs, and he, thrilling with horror, ran along
and slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence he could see what passed
in the hall beneath. He saw her stealthily open the window, hand out the coronet
to someone in the gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to her room,
passing quite close to where he stood hid behind the curtain.
"As long as she was on the scene he could not take
any action without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the instant
that she was gone he realized how crushing a misfortune this would be for you,
and how all-important it was to set it right. He rushed down, just as he was,
in his bare feet, opened the window, sprang out into the snow, and ran down the
lane, where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight. Sir George Burnwell tried
to get away, but Arthur caught him, and there was a struggle between them, your
lad tugging at one side of the coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the
scuffle, your son struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something suddenly
snapped, and your son, finding that he had the coronet in his hands, rushed back,
closed the window, ascended to your room, and had just observed that the coronet
had been twisted in the struggle and was endeavoring to straighten it when you
appeared upon the scene."
"Is it possible?" gasped the banker.
"You then roused his anger by calling him names
at a moment when he felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not
explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who certainly deserved
little enough consideration at his hands. He took the more chivalrous view, however,
and preserved her secret."
"And that was why she shrieked and fainted when
she saw the coronet," cried Mr. Holder. "Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have
been! And his asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes! The dear fellow
wanted to see if the missing piece were at the scene of the struggle. How cruelly
I have misjudged him!'
"When I arrived at the house," continued Holmes,
"I at once went very carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in
the snow which might help me. I knew that none had fallen since the evening before,
and also that there had been a strong frost to preserve impressions. I passed
along the tradesmen's path, but found it all trampled down and indistinguishable.
Just beyond it, however, at the far side of the kitchen door, a woman had stood
and talked with a man, whose round impressions on one side showed that he had
a wooden leg. I could even tell that they had been disturbed, for the woman had
run back swiftly to the door, as was shown by the deep toe and light heel marks,
while Wooden-leg had waited a little, and then had gone away. I thought at the
time that this might be the maid and her sweetheart, of whom you had already spoken
to me, and inquiry showed it was so. I passed round the garden without seeing
anything more than random tracks, which I took to be the police; but when I got
into the stable lane a very long and complex story was written in the snow in
front of me.
"There was a double line of tracks of a booted
man, and a second double line which I saw with delight belonged to a man with
naked feet. I was at once convinced from what you had told me that the latter
was your son. The first had walked both ways, but the other had run swiftly, and
as his tread was marked in places over the depression of the boot, it was obvious
that he had passed after the other. I followed them up and found they led to the
hall window, where Boots had worn all the snow away while waiting. Then I walked
to the other end, which was a hundred yards or more down the lane. I saw where
Boots had faced round, where the snow was cut up as though there had been a struggle,
and, finally, where a few drops of blood had fallen, to show me that I was not
mistaken. Boots had then run down the lane, and another little smudge of blood
showed that it was he who had been hurt. When he came to the highroad at the other
end, I found that the pavement had been cleared, so there was an end to that clue.
"On entering the house, however, I examined, as
you remember, the sill and framework of the hall window with my lens, and I could
at once see that someone had passed out. I could distinguish the outline of an
instep where the wet foot had been placed in coming in. I was then beginning to
be able to form an opinion as to what had occurred. A man had waited outside the
window; someone had brought the gems; the deed had been overseen by your son;
he had pursued the thief; had struggled with him; they had each tugged at the
coronet, their united strength causing injuries which neither alone could have
effected. He had returned with the prize, but had left a fragment in the grasp
of his opponent. So far I was clear. The question now was, who was the man and
who was it brought him the coronet?
"It is an old maxim of mine that when you have
excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth.
Now, I knew that it was not you who had brought it down, so there only remained
your niece and the maids. But if it were the maids, why should your son allow
himself to be accused in their place? There could be no possible reason. As he
loved his cousin, however, there was an excellent explanation why he should retain
her secret—the more so as the secret was a disgraceful one. When I remembered
that you had seen her at that window, and how she had fainted on seeing the coronet
again, my conjecture became a certainty.
"And who could it be who was her confederate? A
lover evidently, for who else could outweigh the love and gratitude which she
must feel to you? I knew that you went out little, and that your circle of friends
was a very limited one. But among them was Sir George Burnwell. I had heard of
him before as being a man of evil reputation among women. It must have been he
who wore those boots and retained the missing gems. Even though he knew that Arthur
had discovered him, he might still flatter himself that he was safe, for the lad
could not say a word without compromising his own family.
"Well, your own good sense will suggest what measures
I took next. I went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George's house, managed to
pick up an acquaintance with his valet, learned that his master had cut his head
the night before, and, finally, at the expense of six shillings, made all sure
by buying a pair of his cast-off shoes. With these I journeyed down to Streatham
and saw that they exactly fitted the tracks."
"I saw an ill-dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday
evening," said Mr. Holder.
"Precisely. It was I. I found that I had my man,
so I came home and changed my clothes. It was a delicate part which I had to play
then, for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert scandal, and I knew
that so astute a villain would see that our hands were tied in the matter. I went
and saw him. At first, of course, he denied everything. But when I gave him every
particular that had occurred, he tried to bluster and took down a life-preserver
from the wall. I knew my man, however, and I clapped a pistol to his head before
he could strike. Then he became a little more reasonable. I told him that we would
give him a price for the stones he held 1000 pounds apiece. That brought out the
first signs of grief that he had shown. 'Why, dash it all!' said he, 'I've let
them go at six hundred for the three!' I soon managed to get the address of the
receiver who had them, on promising him that there would be no prosecution. Off
I set to him, and after much chaffering I got our stones at 1000 pounds apiece.
Then I looked in upon your son, told him that all was right, and eventually got
to my bed about two o'clock, after what I may call a really hard day's work."
"A day which has saved England from a great public
scandal," said the banker, rising. "Sir, I cannot find words to thank you, but
you shall not find me ungrateful for what you have done. Your skill has indeed
exceeded all that I have heard of it. And now I must fly to my dear boy to apologize
to him for the wrong which I have done him. As to what you tell me of poor Mary,
it goes to my very heart. Not even your skill can inform me where she is now."
"I think that we may safely say," returned Holmes,
"That she is wherever Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that
whatever her sins are, they will soon receive a more than sufficient punishment."