"The thumb-mark, Lestrade. You said it was final; and so it was, in avery different sense. I knew it had not been there the day before. I paya good deal of attention to matters of detail, as you may have observed,and I had examined the hall and was sure that the wall was clear.Therefore, it had been put on during the night."
"But how?"
"Very simply. When those packets were sealed up, Jonas Oldacre gotMcFarlane to secure one of the seals by putting his thumb upon the softwax. It would be done so quickly and so naturally that I dare say theyoung man himself has no recollection of it. Very likely it just sohappened, and Oldacre had himself no notion of the use he would put itto. Brooding over the case in that den of his, it suddenly struck himwhat absolutely damning evidence he could make against McFarlane byusing that thumb-mark. It was the simplest thing in the world for him totake a wax impression from the seal, to moisten it in as much blood ashe could get from a pin-prick, and to put the mark upon the wall duringthe night, either with his own hand or with that of his housekeeper.If you examine among those documents which he took with him intohis retreat I will lay you a wager that you find the seal with thethumb-mark upon it."
"Wonderful!" said Lestrade. "Wonderful! It's all as clear as crystal, asyou put it. But what is the object of this deep deception, Mr. Holmes?"
It was amusing to me to see how the detective's overbearing manner hadchanged suddenly to that of a child asking questions of its teacher.
"Well, I don't think that is very hard to explain. A very deep,malicious, vindictive person is the gentleman who is now awaiting usdownstairs. You know that he was once refused by McFarlane's mother?You don't! I told you that you should go to Blackheath first and Norwoodafterwards. Well, this injury, as he would consider it, has rankledin his wicked, scheming brain, and all his life he has longed forvengeance, but never seen his chance. During the last year or two thingshave gone against him--secret speculation, I think--and he finds himselfin a bad way. He determines to swindle his creditors, and for thispurpose he pays large cheques to a certain Mr. Cornelius, who is, Iimagine, himself under another name. I have not traced these chequesyet, but I have no doubt that they were banked under that name at someprovincial town where Oldacre from time to time led a double existence.He intended to change his name altogether, draw this money, and vanish,starting life again elsewhere."
"Well, that's likely enough."
"It would strike him that in disappearing he might throw all pursuit offhis track, and at the same time have an ample and crushing revenge uponhis old sweetheart, if he could give the impression that he had beenmurdered by her only child. It was a masterpiece of villainy, and hecarried it out like a master. The idea of the will, which would givean obvious motive for the crime, the secret visit unknown to his ownparents, the retention of the stick, the blood, and the animal remainsand buttons in the wood-pile, all were admirable. It was a net fromwhich it seemed to me a few hours ago that there was no possible escape.But he had not that supreme gift of the artist, the knowledge of when tostop. He wished to improve that which was already perfect--to draw therope tighter yet round the neck of his unfortunate victim--and sohe ruined all. Let us descend, Lestrade. There are just one or twoquestions that I would ask him."
The malignant creature was seated in his own parlour with a policemanupon each side of him.
"It was a joke, my good sir, a practical joke, nothing more," he whinedincessantly. "I assure you, sir, that I simply concealed myself in orderto see the effect of my disappearance, and I am sure that you would notbe so unjust as to imagine that I would have allowed any harm to befallpoor young Mr. McFarlane."
"That's for a jury to decide," said Lestrade. "Anyhow, we shall have youon a charge of conspiracy, if not for attempted murder."
"And you'll probably find that your creditors will impound the bankingaccount of Mr. Cornelius," said Holmes.
The little man started and turned his malignant eyes upon my friend.
"I have to thank you for a good deal," said he. "Perhaps I'll pay mydebt some day."
Holmes smiled indulgently.
"I fancy that for some few years you will find your time very fullyoccupied," said he. "By the way, what was it you put into the wood-pilebesides your old trousers? A dead dog, or rabbits, or what? You won'ttell? Dear me, how very unkind of you! Well, well, I dare say that acouple of rabbits would account both for the blood and for the charredashes. If ever you write an account, Watson, you can make rabbits serveyour turn."
*****
THE STRAND MAGAZINE Vol. 26 DECEMBER, 1903 THE RETURN OF SHERLOCK HOLMES. By ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.
III.--The Adventure of the Dancing Men.
HOLMES had been seated for some hours in silence with his long,thin back curved over a chemical vessel in which he was brewing aparticularly malodorous product. His head was sunk upon his breast, andhe looked from my point of view like a strange, lank bird, with dullgrey plumage and a black top-knot.
"So, Watson," said he, suddenly, "you do not propose to invest in SouthAfrican securities?"
I gave a start of astonishment. Accustomed as I was to Holmes's curiousfaculties, this sudden intrusion into my most intimate thoughts wasutterly inexplicable.
"How on earth do you know that?" I asked.
He wheeled round upon his stool, with a steaming test-tube in his handand a gleam of amusement in his deep-set eyes.
"Now, Watson, confess yourself utterly taken aback," said he.
"I am."
"I ought to make you sign a paper to that effect."
"Why?"
"Because in five minutes you will say that it is all so absurdlysimple."
"I am sure that I shall say nothing of the kind."