It was my first visit to the scene of the crime--a high, dingy,narrow-chested house, prim, formal, and solid, like the century whichgave it birth. Lestrade's bulldog features gazed out at us from thefront window, and he greeted us warmly when a big constable had openedthe door and let us in. The room into which we were shown was that inwhich the crime had been committed, but no trace of it now remained,save an ugly, irregular stain upon the carpet. This carpet was a smallsquare drugget in the centre of the room, surrounded by a broad expanseof beautiful, old-fashioned wood-flooring in square blocks highlypolished. Over the fireplace was a magnificent trophy of weapons, one ofwhich had been used on that tragic night. In the window was a sumptuouswriting-desk, and every detail of the apartment, the pictures, the rugs,and the hangings, all pointed to a taste which was luxurious to theverge of effeminacy.
"Seen the Paris news?" asked Lestrade.
Holmes nodded.
"Our French friends seem to have touched the spot this time. No doubtit's just as they say. She knocked at the door--surprise visit, Iguess, for he kept his life in water-tight compartments. He let herin--couldn't keep her in the street. She told him how she had tracedhim, reproached him, one thing led to another, and then with that daggerso handy the end soon came. It wasn't all done in an instant, though,for these chairs were all swept over yonder, and he had one in his handas if he had tried to hold her off with it. We've got it all clear as ifwe had seen it."
Holmes raised his eyebrows.
"And yet you have sent for me?"
"Ah, yes, that's another matter--a mere trifle, but the sort of thingyou take an interest in--queer, you know, and what you might callfreakish. It has nothing to do with the main fact--can't have, on theface of it."
"What is it, then?"
"Well, you know, after a crime of this sort we are very careful to keepthings in their position. Nothing has been moved. Officer in charge hereday and night. This morning, as the man was buried and the investigationover--so far as this room is concerned--we thought we could tidy upa bit. This carpet. You see, it is not fastened down; only just laidthere.
We had occasion to raise it. We found----"
"Yes? You found----"
Holmes's face grew tense with anxiety.
"Well, I'm sure you would never guess in a hundred years what we didfind. You see that stain on the carpet? Well, a great deal must havesoaked through, must it not?"
"Undoubtedly it must."
"Well, you will be surprised to hear that there is no stain on the whitewoodwork to correspond."
"No stain! But there must----"
"Yes; so you would say. But the fact remains that there isn't."
He took the corner of the carpet in his hand and, turning it over, heshowed that it was indeed as he said.
"But the underside is as stained as the upper. It must have left amark."
Lestrade chuckled with delight at having puzzled the famous expert.
"Now I'll show you the explanation. There IS a second stain, but it doesnot correspond with the other. See for yourself." As he spoke he turnedover another portion of the carpet, and there, sure enough, was a greatcrimson spill upon the square white facing of the old-fashioned floor."What do you make of that, Mr. Holmes?"
"Why, it is simple enough. The two stains did correspond, but the carpethas been turned round. As it was square and unfastened it was easilydone."
"The official police don't need you, Mr. Holmes, to tell them that thecarpet must have been turned round. That's clear enough, for the stainslie above each other--if you lay it over this way. But what I want toknow is, who shifted the carpet, and why?"
I could see from Holmes's rigid face that he was vibrating with inwardexcitement.
"Look here, Lestrade," said he, "has that constable in the passage beenin charge of the place all the time?"
"Yes, he has."
"Well, take my advice. Examine him carefully. Don't do it before us.We'll wait here. You take him into the back room. You'll be more likelyto get a confession out of him alone. Ask him how he dared to admitpeople and leave them alone in this room. Don't ask him if he has doneit. Take it for granted. Tell him you KNOW someone has been here. Presshim. Tell him that a full confession is his only chance of forgiveness.Do exactly what I tell you!"
"By George, if he knows I'll have it out of him!" cried Lestrade. Hedarted into the hall, and a few moments later his bullying voice soundedfrom the back room.
"Now, Watson, now!" cried Holmes, with frenzied eagerness. All thedemoniacal force of the man masked behind that listless manner burst outin a paroxysm of energy. He tore the drugget from the floor, and in aninstant was down on his hands and knees clawing at each of the squaresof wood beneath it. One turned sideways as he dug his nails into theedge of it. It hinged back like the lid of a box. A small black cavityopened beneath it. Holmes plunged his eager hand into it, and drew itout with a bitter snarl of anger and disappointment. It was empty.
"Quick, Watson, quick! Get it back again!" The wooden lid was replaced,and the drugget had only just been drawn straight when Lestrade's voicewas heard in the passage. He found Holmes leaning languidly againstthe mantelpiece, resigned and patient, endeavouring to conceal hisirrepressible yawns.