"I am sure you did not, for a duster would have swept away these shredsof varnish. Who has the key of this bureau?"
"The Professor keeps it on his watch-chain."
"Is it a simple key?"
"No, sir; it is a Chubb's key."
"Very good. Mrs. Marker, you can go. Now we are making a littleprogress. Our lady enters the room, advances to the bureau, and eitheropens it or tries to do so. While she is thus engaged young WilloughbySmith enters the room. In her hurry to withdraw the key she makes thisscratch upon the door. He seizes her, and she, snatching up the nearestobject, which happens to be this knife, strikes at him in order to makehim let go his hold. The blow is a fatal one. He falls and she escapes,either with or without the object for which she has come. Is Susan themaid there? Could anyone have got away through that door after the timethat you heard the cry, Susan?"
"No sir; it is impossible. Before I got down the stair I'd have seenanyone in the passage. Besides, the door never opened, for I would haveheard it."
"That settles this exit. Then no doubt the lady went out the way shecame. I understand that this other passage leads only to the Professor'sroom. There is no exit that way?"
"No, sir."
"We shall go down it and make the acquaintance of the Professor. Halloa,Hopkins! this is very important, very important indeed. The Professor'scorridor is also lined with cocoanut matting."
"Well, sir, what of that?"
"Don't you see any bearing upon the case? Well, well, I don't insistupon it. No doubt I am wrong. And yet it seems to me to be suggestive.Come with me and introduce me."
We passed down the passage, which was of the same length as that whichled to the garden. At the end was a short flight of steps ending ina door. Our guide knocked, and then ushered us into the Professor'sbedroom.
It was a very large chamber, lined with innumerable volumes, which hadoverflowed from the shelves and lay in piles in the corners, or werestacked all round at the base of the cases. The bed was in the centreof the room, and in it, propped up with pillows, was the owner of thehouse. I have s
eldom seen a more remarkable-looking person. It was agaunt, aquiline face which was turned towards us, with piercing darkeyes, which lurked in deep hollows under overhung and tufted brows. Hishair and beard were white, save that the latter was curiously stainedwith yellow around his mouth. A cigarette glowed amid the tangle ofwhite hair, and the air of the room was fetid with stale tobacco-smoke.As he held out his hand to Holmes I perceived that it also was stainedyellow with nicotine.
"A smoker, Mr. Holmes?" said he, speaking well-chosen English with acurious little mincing accent. "Pray take a cigarette. And you, sir? Ican recommend them, for I have them especially prepared by Ionides ofAlexandria. He sends me a thousand at a time, and I grieve to say that Ihave to arrange for a fresh supply every fortnight. Bad, sir, very bad,but an old man has few pleasures. Tobacco and my work--that is all thatis left to me."
Holmes had lit a cigarette, and was shooting little darting glances allover the room.
"Tobacco and my work, but now only tobacco," the old man exclaimed."Alas! what a fatal interruption! Who could have foreseen such aterrible catastrophe? So estimable a young man! I assure you that aftera few months' training he was an admirable assistant. What do you thinkof the matter, Mr. Holmes?"
"I have not yet made up my mind."
"I shall indeed be indebted to you if you can throw a light where all isso dark to us. To a poor bookworm and invalid like myself such a blowis paralyzing. I seem to have lost the faculty of thought. But you area man of action--you are a man of affairs. It is part of the everydayroutine of your life. You can preserve your balance in every emergency.We are fortunate indeed in having you at our side."
Holmes was pacing up and down one side of the room whilst the oldProfessor was talking. I observed that he was smoking with extraordinaryrapidity. It was evident that he shared our host's liking for the freshAlexandrian cigarettes.
"Yes, sir, it is a crushing blow," said the old man. "That is my MAGNUMOPUS--the pile of papers on the side table yonder. It is my analysis ofthe documents found in the Coptic monasteries of Syria and Egypt, a workwhich will cut deep at the very foundations of revealed religion.With my enfeebled health I do not know whether I shall ever be able tocomplete it now that my assistant has been taken from me. Dear me, Mr.Holmes; why, you are even a quicker smoker than I am myself."
Holmes smiled.
"I am a connoisseur," said he, taking another cigarette from thebox--his fourth--and lighting it from the stub of that which he hadfinished. "I will not trouble you with any lengthy cross-examination,Professor Coram, since I gather that you were in bed at the time of thecrime and could know nothing about it. I would only ask this. Whatdo you imagine that this poor fellow meant by his last words: 'TheProfessor--it was she'?"
The Professor shook his head.
"Susan is a country girl," said he, "and you know the incrediblestupidity of that class. I fancy that the poor fellow murmured someincoherent delirious words, and that she twisted them into thismeaningless message."
"I see. You have no explanation yourself of the tragedy?"
"Possibly an accident; possibly--I only breathe it among ourselves--asuicide. Young men have their hidden troubles--some affair of the heart,perhaps, which we have never known. It is a more probable suppositionthan murder."
"But the eye-glasses?"
"Ah! I am only a student--a man of dreams. I cannot explain thepractical things of life. But still, we are aware, my friend, thatlove-gages may take strange shapes. By all means take another cigarette.It is a pleasure to see anyone appreciate them so. A fan, a glove,glasses--who knows what article may be carried as a token or treasuredwhen a man puts an end to his life? This gentleman speaks of footstepsin the grass; but, after all, it is easy to be mistaken on such a point.As to the knife, it might well be thrown far from the unfortunate man ashe fell. It is possible that I speak as a child, but to me it seems thatWilloughby Smith has met his fate by his own hand."
Holmes seemed struck by the theory thus put forward, and he continued towalk up and down for some time, lost in thought and consuming cigaretteafter cigarette.