with his pipe in his mouth upon the opposite chair, when our visitor arrived. If I had said that a mad bull had arrived it would give a clearer impression of what occurred.
The door had flown open and a huge negro had burst into the room. He would have been a comic figure if he had not been terrific, for he was dressed in a very loud grey check suit with a flowing salmon-coloured tie. His broad face and flattened nose were thrust forward, as his sullen dark eyes, with a smouldering gleam of malice in them, turned from one of us to the other.
'Which of you gen'l'men is Masser Holmes?' he asked.
Holmes raised his pipe with a languid smile.
'Oh! it's you, is it?' said our visitor, coming with an unpleasant, stealthy step round the angle of the table. 'See here, Masser Holmes, you keep your hands out of other folks' business. Leave folks to manage their own affairs. Got that, Masser Holmes?'
'Keep on talking,' said Holmes. 'It's fine.'
'Oh! it's fine, is it?' growled the savage. 'It won't be so damn fine if I have to trim you up a bit. I've handled your kind before now, and they didn't look fine when I was through with them. Look at that, Masser Holmes!'
He swung a huge knotted lump of a fist under my friend's nose. Holmes examined it closely with an air of great interest.
'Were you born so?' he asked. 'Or did it come by degrees?'
It may have been the icy coolness of my friend, or it may have been the slight clatter which I made as I picked up the poker. In any case, our visitor's manner became less flamboyant.
'Well, I've given you fair warnin',' said he. 'I've a friend that's interested out Harrow way — you know what I'm meaning — and he don't intend to have no buttin' in by you. Got that? You ain't the law, and I ain't the law either, and if you come in I'll be on hand also. Don't you forget it.'
'I've wanted to meet you for some time,' said Holmes. 'I won't ask you to sit down, for I don't like the smell of you, but aren't you Steve Dixie, the bruiser?'
'That's my name, Masser Holmes, and you'll get put through it for sure if you give me any lip.'
'It is certainly the last thing you need,' said Holmes, staring at our visitor's hideous mouth. 'But it was the killing of young Perkins outside the Holborn — Bar What! you're not going?'
The negro had sprung back, and his face was leaden. 'I won't listen to no such talk,' said he. 'What have I to do with this 'ere Perkins, Masser Holmes? I was trainin' at the Bull Ring in Birmingham when this boy done gone get into trouble.'
'Yes, you'll tell the magistrate about it, Steve,' said Holmes. 'I've been watching you and Barney Stockdale—'
'So help me the Lord! Masser Holmes—'
'That's enough. Get out of it. I'll pick you up when I want you.'
'Good-mornin', Masser Holmes. I hope there ain't no hard feelin's about this 'ere visit?'
'There will be unless you tell me who sent you.'
'Why, there ain't no secret about that, Masser Holmes. It was that same gen'l'man that you have just done gone mention.'
'And who set him on to it?'
'S'elp me. I don't know, Masser Holmes. He just say, 'Steve, you go see Mr. Holmes, and tell him his life ain't safe if he go down Harrow way.' That's the whole truth.' Without waiting for any further questioning, our visitor bolted out of the room almost as precipitately as he had entered. Holmes knocked out the ashes of his pipe with a quiet chuckle.
'I am glad you were not forced to break his woolly head, Watson. I observed your manoeuvres with the poker. But he is really rather a harmless fellow, a great muscular, foolish, blustering baby, and easily cowed, as you have seen. He is one of the Spencer John gang and has taken part in some dirty work of late which I may clear up when I have time. His immediate principal, Barney, is a more astute person. They specialize in assaults, intimidation, and the like. What I want to know is, who is at the back of them on this particular occasion?'
'But why do they want to intimidate you?'
'It is this Harrow Weald case. It decides me to look into the matter, for if it is worth anyone's while to take so much trouble, there must be something in it.'
'But what is it?'
'I was going to tell you when we had this comic interlude. Here is Mrs. Maberley's note. If you care to come with me we will wire her and go out at once.'
DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES [I read]:
I have had a succession of strange incidents occur to me in connection with this house, and I should much value your advice. You would find me at home any time to-morrow. The house is within a short walk of the Weald Station. I believe that my late husband, Mortimer Maberley, was one of your early clients.
Yours faithfully,
The address was 'The Three Gables, Harrow Weald.'
'So that's that!' said Holmes. 'And now, if you can spare the time, Watson, we will get upon our way.'
A short railway journey, and a shorter drive, brought us to the house, a brick and timber villa, standing in its own acre of undeveloped grassland. Three small projections above. the upper windows made a feeble attempt to justify its name. Behind was a grove of melancholy, half-grown pines, and the whole aspect of the place was poor and depressing. None the less, we found the house to be well furnished, and the lady who received us was a most engaging elderly person, who bore every mark of refinement and culture.
'I remember your husband well, madam,' said Holmes, 'though it is some years since he used my services in some trifling matter.'
'Probably you would be more familiar with the name of my son Douglas.'
Holmes looked at her with great interest.
'Dear me! Are you the mother of Douglas Maberley? I knew him slightly. But of course all London knew him. What a magnificent creature he was! Where is he now?'
'Dead, Mr. Holmes, dead! He was attache at Rome, and he died there of pneumonia last month.'
'I am sorry. One could not connect death with such a man. I have never known anyone so vitally alive. He lived intensely — every fibre of him!'
'Too intensely, Mr. Holmes. That was the ruin of him. You remember him as he was — debonair and splendid. You did not see the moody, morose, brooding creature into which he developed. His heart was broken. In a single month I seemed to see my gallant boy turn into a worn-out cynical man.'
'A love affair — a woman?'
'Or a fiend. Well, it was not to talk of my poor lad that I asked you to come, Mr. Holmes.'
'Dr. Watson and I are at your service.'
'There have been some very strange happenings. I have been in this house more than a year now, and as I wished to lead a retired life I have seen little of my neighbours. Three days ago I had a call from a man who said that he was a house agent. He said that this house would exactly suit a client of his, and that if I would part with it money would be no object. It seemed to me very strange as there are several empty houses on the market which appear to be equally eligible, but naturally I was interested in what he said. I therefore named a price which was five hundred pounds more than I gave. He at once closed with the offer, but added that his client desired to buy the furniture as well and would I put a price upon it. Some of this furniture is from my old home, and it is, as you see, very good, so that I named a good round sum. To this also he at once agreed. I had always wanted to travel, and the bargain was so good a one that it really seemed that I should be my own mistress for the rest of my life.
'Yesterday the man arrived with the agreement all drawn out. Luckily I showed it to Mr. Sutro, my lawyer, who lives in Harrow. He said to me, 'This is a very strange document. Are you aware that if you sign it you could not legally take anything out of the house — not even your own private possessions?' When the man came again in the evening I pointed this out, and I said that I meant only to sell the furniture.
