The Exploits of Sherlock Holmes

'How's this?' he challenged in a rumbling voice, ad­vancing on us with silent steps. 'Who are ye? A pretty state of affairs, Bassett, when ye drag a set of strangers into the house of your own landlord!'

'I would remind you, Sir Reginald, that a serious crime has been committed,' replied the local detective sternly. 'This is Inspector Gregson from London; and these gentlemen are Mr. Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson.'

A shade of uneasiness seemed to flit across the dark face of the baronet as he looked at Holmes.

'I've heard of ye,' he growled. His gaze moved towards the dead man. 'Yes, Buck Daley's dead, and probably damned. I know his reputation now. Wine, horses, women —well, there have been Lavingtons like that. Mayhap, Mr. Holmes, ye have the wit to recognize a mischance when others talk of murder.'

To my amazement Holmes seemed seriously to con­sider this monstrous statement. 'Were it not for one circumstance, Sir Reginald,' he said at length, 'I should probably agree with you.'

Gregson smiled sourly. 'We're all aware of that circum­stance. The missing knife—'

'I did not say that it was the knife.'

'There was no need for you to say so, Mr. Holmes. Can a man cut his own throat by accident and afterwards conceal the weapon?'

Seizing the candelabrum from the sergeant, Gregson held it up to the trophy of arms which glittered against the dark panelling. His stern eyes met those of the baronet.

'Where is the dagger that hung here?' he demanded.

'I took it,' said Sir Reginald.

'Oh, you did, did you? Why?'

'I've told Sergeant Bassett there. I was fishing this morning. I used that old blade to gut the pike; ay, as my fathers did before me.'

'Then you have it?'

'No; must I tell the police a dozen times? I lost it from my creel. Mayhap at the river, or on my way home.'

Gregson drew the sergeant to one side.

'I think there's little more we need,' I heard him mutter. 'His wife has given us the motive, and we have it from his own lips that he took the weapon. Sir Reginald Lavington,' he said with authority, advancing upon the baronet, 'I must ask you to accompany me to Maidstone Police Station. There you will be formally charged with —'

Holmes darted forward. 'One moment, Gregson!' he cried. 'You must really give us twenty-four hours to think this over. For your own sake I tell you that any good counsel would tear your case to pieces.'

'I think not, Mr. Holmes; especially with her ladyship in the witness-box.'

Sir Reginald started violently, while a livid pallor mottled the swarthiness of his features.

'I warn ye not to drag my wife into this! Whatever she's said, she can't testify against her husband!'

'We would not ask her to do so. It is sufficient that she repeat what she has already stated in the presence of police witnesses. However, Mr. Holmes,' Gregson added, 'in return for one or two small favours you've done us in the past, I see no harm in—well! in delaying matters for a few more hours. As for you, Sir Reginald, should you attempt to leave this house, you will be arrested at once. Well, Mr. Holmes, what now?'

My friend had dropped to his knees, and by the light of a candle was peering closely at the horrible splashes of blood and wine which dabbled the oaken floor.

'Perhaps you would have the goodness, Watson, to pull that bell-rope,' he said, as he scrambled to his feet. 'A word with the butler, who discovered the body, would not come amiss before we seek accommodation at the village inn. Let us adjourn to the hall.'

I think that each of us was glad to leave that black, vaulted room with its terrible occupant, and to find ourselves once more before the log fire blazing on the hearth. Lady Lavington, pale but beautiful in a gown of bronze velvet with a collar of Brussels lace, rose from a chair.

For a moment her eyes seemed to search each one of us with a mute, intense questioning, and then she had swept to her husband's side.

'In God's name, Margaret, what have ye been saying?' he demanded, the veins swelling in his thick neck. 'Ye'll have me at the rope's end yet!'

'Whatever the sacrifice, I swear you shall not suffer! Surely it is better that—' She whispered a few agitated words in his ear.

'Never! Never!' retorted her husband fiercely. 'What? You here, Gillings? Have you too been condemning your master?'

None of us had heard the butler's approach, but now he stepped into the circle of fire-light, with a troubled ex­pression on his honest face.

'Heaven forbid, Sir Reginald!' Gillings replied warmly. 'I told Sergeant Bassett only what I saw and heard. Colo­nel Daley called for a bottle of port. He was in the ban­queting-hall. He—he said he wished to drink a toast with you from the Luck of Lavington, to the victory of his horse in the Leopardstown races next week. Since there was port in the decanter on the buffet, I poured it into the great cup. I remember how the colonel laughed as he dismissed me.'

'He laughed, you say?' said Sherlock Holmes quickly. 'When did you actually see Sir Reginald with the colo­ nel?'

'I did not actually see him, sir. But the colonel said—'

'And laughed when he said it,' interposed Holmes. 'Perhaps Lady Lavington would tell us whether Colonel Daley was a frequent guest under this roof?'

It seemed to me that some swift emotion glowed for an instant in those wonderful green eyes.

'For some years past, a frequent guest,' she said. 'But my husband was not even in the house this morning! Has he not told you so already?'

'Excuse me, my lady,' doggedly interrupted Sergeant Bassett. 'Sir Reginald says he was at the river, but he admits he can't prove it.'

'Quite so,' said Holmes. 'Well, Watson, there is noth­ing more to be done here tonight.'

We found comfortable accommodation at the Three Owls in the village of Lavington. Holmes was moody and preoccupied. When I attempted to question him, he cut me short with the statement that he had nothing fur­ther to add until he had visited Maidstone on the morrow. I must confess that I could not understand my friend's attitude. It was evident that Sir Reginald Lavington was a dangerous man, and that our visit appeared to have made him more so but when I pointed out to Holmes that his duty lay at Lavington Court rather than in the county town of Maidstone, he replied merely with the incongruous observation that the Lavingtons were a his­toric family.

I passed a restless morning. The wild weather kept me indoors over a week-old newspaper, and it was not until four o'clock in the afternoon that Holmes burst into our private sitting-room. His cape was dripping and rain- sodden, but his eyes glittered and his cheeks were flushed with some intense inner excitement.

'Good heavens!' I said. 'You look as though you have found the answer to our problem.'

Before my friend could reply, there came a knock and the door of our sitting-room had swung open. Holmes rose from the chair into which he had just relapsed.

'Ah, Lady Lavington,' said he, 'we are honoured by your visit.'

Though her features were heavily veiled, there was no mistaking that tall, gracious figure now hesitating on our threshold.

'I received your note, Mr. Holmes,' she replied in a low voice, 'and I came at once.' Sinking into the chair which I had wheeled forward, she raised her veil and let her head rest back among the cushions. 'I came at once,' she repeated wearily.

The fire-light threw her face into strong relief, and, as I studied her features, still beautiful despite the almost waxen pallor and restless brilliance of her eyes, I dis­cerned in them the shock of the event that had shattered the peace of her life and the privacy of her home. A sense of compassion prompted me to speak.

'You may have complete confidence in my friend Sherlock Holmes,' I said gently. 'This is indeed a pain­ful time for you, Lady Lavington, but rest assured that everything will turn out for the best.'

She thanked me with a glance. But, when I rose to leave them together, she held up her hand.

'I would much prefer that you stayed, Dr. Watson,' she begged. 'Your presence gives me confidence. Why have you sent for me, Mr. Holmes?'