"I see no marks."
"There are none."
"How do you know, then?"
"The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a fewdays. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. Itcorresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any otherweapon."
"And the murderer?"
"Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wearsthick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indiancigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in hispocket. There are several other indications, but these may beenough to aid us in our search."
Lestrade laughed. "I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," hesaid. "Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with ahard-headed British jury."
"Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly. "You work your ownmethod, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon,and shall probably return to London by the evening train."
"And leave your case unfinished?"
"No, finished."
"But the mystery?"
"It is solved."
"Who was the criminal, then?"
"The gentleman I describe."
"But who is he?"
"Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such apopulous neighbourhood."
Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am a practical man," he said,"and I really cannot undertake to go about the country lookingfor a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become thelaughing-stock of Scotland Yard."
"All right," said Holmes quietly. "I have given you the chance.Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line beforeI leave."
Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, wherewe found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried inthought with a pained expression upon his face, as one who findshimself in a perplexing position.
"Look here, Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared "just sitdown in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don'tknow quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light acigar and let me expound."
"Pray do so."
"Well, now, in considering this case there are two points aboutyoung McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly,although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. Onewas the fact that his father should, according to his account,cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his singular dyingreference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, butthat was all that caught the son's ear. Now from this doublepoint our research must commence, and we will begin it bypresuming that what the lad says is absolutely true."
"What of this 'Cooee!' then?"
"Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. Theson, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance thathe was within earshot. The 'Cooee!' was meant to attract theattention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. But'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is usedbetween Australians. There is a strong presumption that theperson whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool wassomeone who had been in Australia."
"What of the rat, then?"
Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattenedit out on the table. "This is a map of the Colony of Victoria,"he said. "I wired to Bristol for it last night." He put his handover part of the map. "What do you read?"
"ARAT," I read.
"And now?" He raised his hand.
"BALLARAT."
"Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which hisson only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utterthe name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat."