"There, now!" she cried, throwing back her head and lookingdefiantly at Lestrade. "You hear! He gives me hopes."
Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am afraid that my colleaguehas been a little quick in forming his conclusions," he said.
"But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never didit. And about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that thereason why he would not speak about it to the coroner was becauseI was concerned in it."
"In what way?" asked Holmes.
"It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father hadmany disagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious thatthere should be a marriage between us. James and I have alwaysloved each other as brother and sister; but of course he is youngand has seen very little of life yet, and--and--well, henaturally did not wish to do anything like that yet. So therewere quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them."
"And your father?" asked Holmes. "Was he in favour of such aunion?"
"No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was infavour of it." A quick blush passed over her fresh young face asHolmes shot one of his keen, questioning glances at her.
"Thank you for this information," said he. "May I see your fatherif I call to-morrow?"
"I am afraid the doctor won't allow it."
"The doctor?"
"Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong foryears back, but this has broken him down completely. He has takento his bed, and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that hisnervous system is shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alivewho had known dad in the old days in Victoria."
"Ha! In Victoria! That is important."
"Yes, at the mines."
"Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turnermade his money."
"Yes, certainly."
"Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance tome."
"You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt youwill go to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, dotell him that I know him to be innocent."
"I will, Miss Turner."
"I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so ifI leave him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking." Shehurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered, and weheard the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street.
"I am ashamed of you, Holmes," said Lestrade with dignity after afew minutes' silence. "Why should you raise up hopes which youare bound to disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but Icall it cruel."
"I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy," saidHolmes. "Have you an order to see him in prison?"
"Yes, but only for you and me."
"Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We havestill time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?"
"Ample."
"Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it veryslow, but I shall only be away a couple of hours."
I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered throughthe streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel,where I lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in ayellow-backed novel. The puny plot of the story was so thin,however, when compared to the deep mystery through which we weregroping, and I found my attention wander so continually from theaction to the fact, that I at last flung it across the room andgave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of theday. Supposing that this unhappy young man's story wereabsolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutelyunforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred betweenthe time when he parted from his father, and the moment when,drawn back by his screams, he rushed into the glade? It wassomething terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might not thenature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts?I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper, whichcontained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon'sdeposition it was stated that the posterior third of the leftparietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had beenshattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. I marked the spotupon my own head. Clearly such a blow must have been struck frombehind. That was to some extent in favour of the accused, as whenseen quarrelling he was face to face with his father. Still, itdid not go for very much, for the older man might have turned hisback before the blow fell. Still, it might be worth while to callHolmes' attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dyingreference to a rat. What could that mean? It could not bedelirium. A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly becomedelirious. No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain howhe met his fate. But what could it indicate? I cudgelled mybrains to find some possible explanation. And then the incidentof the grey cloth seen by young M
cCarthy. If that were true themurderer must have dropped some part of his dress, presumably hisovercoat, in his flight, and must have had the hardihood toreturn and to carry it away at the instant when the son waskneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off. What atissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was! Idid not wonder at Lestrade's opinion, and yet I had so much faithin Sherlock Holmes' insight that I could not lose hope as longas every fresh fact seemed to strengthen his conviction of youngMcCarthy's innocence.
It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone,for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town.
"The glass still keeps very high," he remarked as he sat down."It is of importance that it should not rain before we are ableto go over the ground. On the other hand, a man should be at hisvery best and keenest for such nice work as that, and I did notwish to do it when fagged by a long journey. I have seen youngMcCarthy."
"And what did you learn from him?"