My friend had no breakfast himself, for it was one of his peculiaritiesthat in his more intense moments he would permit himself no food, and Ihave known him presume upon his iron strength until he has fainted frompure inanition. "At present I cannot spare energy and nerve force fordigestion," he would say in answer to my medical remonstrances. I wasnot surprised, therefore, when this morning he left his untouched mealbehind him and started with me for Norwood. A crowd of morbid sightseerswere still gathered round Deep Dene House, which was just such asuburban villa as I had pictured. Within the gates Lestrade met us, hisface flushed with victory, his manner grossly triumphant.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, have you proved us to be wrong yet? Have you foundyour tramp?" he cried.
"I have formed no conclusion whatever," my companion answered.
"But we formed ours yesterday, and now it proves to be correct; so youmust acknowledge that we have been a little in front of you this time,Mr. Holmes."
"You certainly have the air of something unusual having occurred," saidHolmes.
Lestrade laughed loudly.
"You don't like being beaten any more than the rest of us do," said he."A man can't expect always to have it his own way, can he, Dr. Watson?Step this way, if you please, gentlemen, and
I think I can convince youonce for all that it was John McFarlane who did this crime."
He led us through the passage and out into a dark hall beyond.
"This is where young McFarlane must have come out to get his hatafter the crime was done," said he. "Now, look at this." With dramaticsuddenness he struck a match and by its light exposed a stain of bloodupon the whitewashed wall. As he held the match nearer I saw that it wasmore than a stain. It was the well-marked print of a thumb.
"Look at that with your magnifying glass, Mr. Holmes."
"Yes, I am doing so."
"You are aware that no two thumb marks are alike?"
"I have heard something of the kind."
"Well, then, will you please compare that print with this wax impressionof young McFarlane's right thumb, taken by my orders this morning?"
As he held the waxen print close to the blood-stain it did not takea magnifying glass to see that the two were undoubtedly from the samethumb. It was evident to me that our unfortunate client was lost.
"That is final," said Lestrade.
"Yes, that is final," I involuntarily echoed.
"It is final," said Holmes.
Something in his tone caught my ear, and I turned to look at him. Anextraordinary change had come over his face. It was writhing with inwardmerriment. His two eyes were shining like stars. It seemed to me thathe was making desperate efforts to restrain a convulsive attack oflaughter.
"Dear me! Dear me!" he said at last. "Well, now, who would have thoughtit? And how deceptive appearances may be, to be sure! Such a nice youngman to look at! It is a lesson to us not to trust our own judgment, isit not, Lestrade?"
"Yes, some of us are a little too much inclined to be cocksure, Mr.Holmes," said Lestrade. The man's insolence was maddening, but we couldnot resent it.
"What a providential thing that this young man should press his rightthumb against the wall in taking his hat from the peg! Such a verynatural action, too, if you come to think of it." Holmes was outwardlycalm, but his whole body gave a wriggle of suppressed excitement as hespoke. "By the way, Lestrade, who made this remarkable discovery?"
"It was the housekeeper, Mrs. Lexington, who drew the night constable'sattention to it."
"Where was the night constable?"
"He remained on guard in the bedroom where the crime was committed, soas to see that nothing was touched."
"But why didn't the police see this mark yesterday?"
"Well, we had no particular reason to make a careful examination of thehall. Besides, it's not in a very prominent place, as you see."
"No, no, of course not. I suppose there is no doubt that the mark wasthere yesterday?"
Lestrade looked at Holmes as if he thought he was going out of his mind.I confess that I was myself surprised both at his hilarious manner andat his rather wild observation.