"He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but inother respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured man.Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson, thatweakness in one limb is often compensated for by exceptionalstrength in the others."
"Pray continue your narrative."
"Mrs. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon thewindow, and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, as herpresence could be of no help to them in their investigations.Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case, made a very carefulexamination of the premises, but without finding anything whichthrew any light upon the matter. One mistake had been made in notarresting Boone instantly, as he was allowed some few minutesduring which he might have communicated with his friend theLascar, but this fault was soon remedied, and he was seized andsearched, without anything being found which could incriminatehim. There were, it is true, some blood-stains upon his rightshirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger, which had beencut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding came fromthere, adding that he had been to the window not long before, andthat the stains which had been observed there came doubtless fromthe same source. He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr.Neville St. Clair and swore that the presence of the clothes inhis room was as much a mystery to him as to the police. As toMrs. St. Clair's assertion that she had actually seen her husbandat the window, he declared that she must have been either mad ordreaming. He was removed, loudly protesting, to thepolice-station, while the inspector remained upon the premises inthe hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue.
"And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what theyhad feared to find. It was Neville St. Clair's coat, and notNeville St. Clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded. Andwhat do you think they found in the pockets?"
"I cannot imagine."
"No, I don't think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed withpennies and half-pennies--421 pennies and 270 half-pennies. Itwas no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide. But ahuman body is a different matter. There is a fierce eddy betweenthe wharf and the house. It seemed likely enough that theweighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been suckedaway into the river."
"But I understand that all the other clothes were found in theroom. Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?"
"No, sir, but the facts might be met speciously enough. Supposethat this man Boone had thrust Neville St. Clair through thewindow, there is no human eye which could have seen the deed.What would he do then? It would of course instantly strike himthat he must get rid of the tell-tale garments. He would seizethe coat, then, and be in the act of throwing it out, when itwould occur to him that it would swim and not sink. He has littletime, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when the wife triedto force her way up, and perhaps he has already heard from hisLascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street.There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secrethoard, where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and hestuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands into thepockets to make sure of the coat's sinking. He throws it out, andwould have done the same with the other garments had not he heardthe rush of steps below, and only just had time to close thewindow when the police appeared."
"It certainly sounds feasible."
"Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of abetter. Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to thestation, but it could not be shown that there had ever beforebeen anything against him. He had for years been known as aprofessional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a veryquiet and innocent one. There the matter stands at present, andthe questions which have to be solved--what Neville St. Clair wasdoing in the opium den, what happened to him when there, where ishe now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his disappearance--areall as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I cannotrecall any case within my experience which looked at the firstglance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties."
While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series ofevents, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the greattown until the last straggling houses had been left behind, andwe rattled along with a country hedge upon either s
ide of us.Just as he finished, however, we drove through two scatteredvillages, where a few lights still glimmered in the windows.
"We are on the outskirts of Lee," said my companion. "We havetouched on three English counties in our short drive, starting inMiddlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent.See that light among the trees? That is The Cedars, and besidethat lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already, I havelittle doubt, caught the clink of our horse's feet."
"But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?" Iasked.
"Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here.Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, andyou may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome formy friend and colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I haveno news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!"
We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within itsown grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse's head, andspringing down, I followed Holmes up the small, windinggravel-drive which led to the house. As we approached, the doorflew open, and a little blonde woman stood in the opening, cladin some sort of light mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffypink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with her figureoutlined against the flood of light, one hand upon the door, onehalf-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her headand face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standingquestion.
"Well?" she cried, "well?" And then, seeing that there were twoof us, she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she sawthat my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
"No good news?"
"None."
"No bad?"
"No."
"Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you havehad a long day."
"This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use tome in several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made itpossible for me to bring him out and associate him with thisinvestigation."
"I am delighted to see you," said she, pressing my hand warmly."You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in ourarrangements, when you consider the blow which has come sosuddenly upon us."
"My dear madam," said I, "I am an old campaigner, and if I werenot I can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be ofany assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall beindeed happy."
"Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the lady as we entered awell-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper hadbeen laid out, "I should very much like to ask you one or twoplain questions, to which I beg that you will give a plainanswer."
"Certainly, madam."
"Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor givento fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion."
"Upon what point?"
"In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?"