"You see, my dear Watson"--he propped his test-tube in the rack andbegan to lecture with the air of a professor addressing his class--"itis not really difficult to construct a series of inferences, eachdependent upon its predecessor and each simple in itself. If, afterdoing so, one simply knocks out all the central inferences and presentsone's audience with the starting-point and the conclusion, one mayproduce a startling, though possibly a meretricious, effect. Now, it wasnot really difficult, by an inspection of the groove between your leftforefinger and thumb, to feel sure that you did NOT propose to investyour small capital in the goldfields."
"I see no connection."
"Very likely not; but I can quickly show you a close connection. Hereare the missing links of the very simple chain: 1. You had chalk betweenyour left finger and thumb when you returned from the club last night.2. You put chalk there when you play billiards to steady the cue. 3. Younever play billiards except with Thurston. 4. You told me four weeks agothat Thurston had an option on some South African property which wouldexpire in a month, and which he desired you to share with him. 5. Yourcheque-book is locked in my drawer, and you have not asked for the key.6. You do not propose to invest your money in this manner."
"How absurdly simple!" I cried.
"Quite so!" said he, a little nettled. "Every problem becomes verychildish when once it is explained to you. Here is an unexplained one.See what you can make of that, friend Watson." He tossed a sheet ofpaper upon the table and turned once more to his chemical analysis.
I looked with amazement at the absurd hieroglyphics upon the paper.
"Why, Holmes, it is a child's drawing," I cried.
"Oh, that's your idea!"
"What else should it be?"
"That is what Mr. Hilton Cubitt, of Riding Thorpe Manor, Norfolk, isvery anxious to know. This little conundrum came by the first post, andhe was to follow by the next train. There's a ring at the bell, Watson.I should not be very much surprised if this were he."
A heavy step was heard upon the stairs, and an instant later thereentered a tall, ruddy, clean-shaven gentleman, whose clear eyes andflorid cheeks told of a life led far from the fogs of Baker Street. Heseemed to bring a whiff of his strong, fresh, bracing, east-coast airwith him as he entered. Having shaken hands with each of us, he wasabout to sit down when his eye rested upon the paper with the curiousmarkings, which I had just examined and left upon the table.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, what do you make of these?" he cried. "They told methat you were fond of queer mysteries, and I don't think you can find aqueerer one than that. I sent the paper on ahead so that you might havetime to study it before I came."
"It is certainly rather a curious production," said Holmes. "At firstsight it would appear to be some childish prank. It consists of a numberof absurd little figures dancing across the paper upon which theyare drawn. Why should you attribute any importance to so grotesque anobject?"
"I never should, Mr. Holmes. But my wife does. It is frightening her todeath. She says nothing, but I can see terror in her eyes. That's why Iwant to sift the matter to the bottom."
Holmes held up the paper so that the sunlight shone full upon it. It wasa page torn from a note-book. The markings were done in pencil, and ranin this way:--
GRAPHIC
Holmes examined it for some time, and then, folding it carefully up, heplaced it in his pocket-book.
"This promises to be a most interesting and unusual case," said he."You gave me a few particulars in your letter, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, but Ishould be very much obliged if you would kindly go over it all again forthe benefit of my friend, Dr. Watson."
"I'm not much of a story-teller," said our visitor, nervously claspingand unclasping his great, strong hands. "You'll just ask me anythingthat I don't make clear. I'll begin at the time of my marriage lastyear; but I want to say first of all that, though I'm not a rich man, mypeople have been at Ridling Thorpe for a matter of five centuries, andthere is no better known family in the County of Norfolk. Last year Icame up to London for the Jubilee, and I stopped at a boarding-house inRussell Square, because Parker, the vicar of our parish, was staying init. There was an American young lady there--Patrick was the name--ElsiePatrick. In some way we became friends, until before my month was upI was as much in love as a man could be. We were quietly married ata registry office, and we returned to Norfolk a wedded couple. You'llthink it very mad, Mr. Holmes, that a man of a good old family shouldmarry a wife in this fashion, knowing nothing of her past or of herpeople; but if you saw her and knew her it would help you to understand.
"She was very straight about it, was Elsie. I can't say that she did notgive me every chance of getting out of it if I wished to do so. 'I havehad some very disagreeable associations in my life,' said she; 'I wishto forget all about them. I would rather never allude to the past, forit is very painful to me. If you take me, Hilton, you will take a womanwho has nothing that she need be personally ashamed of; but you willhave to be content with my word for it, and to allow me to be silentas to all that passed up to the time when I became yours. If theseconditions are too hard, then go back to Norfolk and leave me to thelonely life in which you found me.' It was only the day before ourwedding that she said those very words to me. I told her that I wascontent to take her on her own terms, and I have been as good as myword.
"Well, we have been married now for a year, and very happy we have been.But about a month ago, at the end of June, I saw for the first timesigns of trouble. One day my wife received a letter from America. I sawthe American stamp. She turned deadly white, read the letter, and threwit into the fire. She made no allusion to it afterwards, and I madenone, for a promise is a promise; but she has never known an easy hourfrom that moment. There is always a look of fear upon her face--a lookas if she were waiting and expecting. She would do better to trust me.She would find that I was her best friend. But until she speaks I cansay nothing. Mind you, she is a truthful woman, Mr. Holmes, and whatevertrouble there may have been in her past life it has been no fault ofhers. I am only a simple Norfolk squire, but there is not a man inEngland who ranks his family honour more highly than I do. She knows itwell, and she knew it well before she married me. She would never bringany stain upon it--of that I am sure.
"Well, now I come to the queer part of my story. About a week ago--itwas the Tuesday of last week--I found on one of the window-sills anumber of absurd little dancing figures, like these upon the paper. Theywere scrawled with chalk. I thought that it was the stable-boy who haddrawn them, but the lad swore he knew nothing about it. Anyhow, they hadcome there during the night. I had them washed out, and I only mentionedthe matter to my wife afterwards. To my surprise she took it veryseriously, and begged me if any more came to let her see them. None didcome for a week, and then yesterday morning I found this paper lying onthe sun-dial in the garden. I showed it to Elsie, and down she droppedin a dead faint. Since then she
has looked like a woman in a dream, halfdazed, and with terror always lurking in her eyes. It was then that Iwrote and sent the paper to you, Mr. Holmes. It was not a thing thatI could take to the police, for they would have laughed at me, but youwill tell me what to do. I am not a rich man; but if there is any dangerthreatening my little woman I would spend my last copper to shield her."
He was a fine creature, this man of the old English soil, simple,straight, and gentle, with his great, earnest blue eyes and broad,comely face. His love for his wife and his trust in her shone in hisfeatures. Holmes had listened to his story with the utmost attention,and now he sat for some time in silent thought.
"Don't you think, Mr. Cubitt," said he, at last, "that your best planwould be to make a direct appeal to your wife, and to ask her to shareher secret with you?"
Hilton Cubitt shook his massive head.
"A promise is a promise, Mr. Holmes. If Elsie wished to tell me shewould. If not, it is not for me to force her confidence. But I amjustified in taking my own line--and I will."
"Then I will help you with all my heart. In the first place, have youheard of any strangers being seen in your neighbourhood?"
"No."
"I presume that it is a very quiet place. Any fresh face would causecomment?"