The Exploits of Sherlock Holmes

subject of the latter's sale of Chudford Farm which Longton con­sidered a further and unnecessary reduction of the estate.'

'Further?'

'It appears that Squire Addleton has sold other hold­ings over the last two years,' I replied, throwing the paper on the couch. 'I must say, Holmes, that I have seldom read a case in which the culprit is more clearly defined.'

'Ugly, Watson, very ugly,' my friend agreed. 'Indeed, presuming the facts to be as stated, I cannot conceive why this Mr. Vincent should propose to waste my time. But here, unless I am much mistaken, is our man upon the staircase.'

There came a knock on the door and Mrs. Hudson ushered in our visitor.

Mr. Vincent was a small, elderly man with a long, pale, mournful face framed in a pair of side-whiskers. For a moment, he stood hesitating while he peered at us short­sightedly through his pince-nez which were attached by a black ribbon to the lapel of his rather dingy frock-coat. 'This is too bad, Mr. Holmes!' he cried shrilly. 'I assumed that my telegram would ensure privacy, sir, absolute privacy. My client's affairs—'

'This is my colleague Dr. Watson,' interposed Sherlock Holmes, waving our visitor to the chair which I had drawn forward. 'I assure you that his presence may be invalu­able.'

Mr. Vincent bobbed his head towards me and, deposit­ing his hat and stick on the floor, sank into the cushions.

'Pray believe that I meant you no offence, Dr. Watson,' he squeaked. 'But this is a terrible morning, a terrible morning I say, for those who cherish goodwill for the Addletons of Foulkes Rath.'

'Quite so,' said Holmes. 'I trust, however, that your early-morning walk to the station did something to restore your nerves. I find that exercise is in itself a seda­tive.'

Our visitor started in his seat. 'Really, sir,' he cried, 'I fail to see how you—'

'Tut, tut;' Holmes interrupted impatiently. 'A man who has driven to the station does not appear with a splash of fresh clay on his left gaiter and a similar smear across the ferrule of his stick. You walked through a rough country lane and, as the weather is dry, I should judge that your path took in a ford or water-crossing.'

'Your reasoning is perfectly correct, sir,' replied Mr. Vincent, with a most suspicious glance at Holmes over the top of his pince-nez. 'My horse is at grass and not even a hack available at that hour in the village. I walked as you say, caught the milk train to London and here I am to enlist, nay, Mr. Holmes, to demand, your services for my unfortunate young client, Mr. Percy Longton.'

Holmes lay back with closed eyes and his chin resting on his finger-tips. 'I fear that there is nothing that I can do in the matter,' he announced. 'Dr. Watson has al­ready put before me the principal facts, and they would appear to be quite damning. Who is in charge of the case?'

'I understand that the local police, in view of the gravity of the crime, appealed to Scotland Yard, who dispatched an Inspector Lestrade—dear me, Mr. Holmes, I fear that you have a painful twinge of rheumatics—an Inspector Lestrade to take charge. I should explain, perhaps,' went on our visitor, 'that I am the senior partner of Vincent, Peabody and Vincent, the legal practitioners of Forest Row to whom the Addletons have entrusted their interests for the past hundred years and more.'

Leaning forward, Holmes picked up the paper and, tapping the place sharply with his finger, handed it with­ out a word to the lawyer.

'The account is accurate enough,' said the little man sadly, after running his eye down the column, 'though it omits to state that the front door was unlocked despite the fact that the squire told Morstead the butler that he would lock it himself.'

Holmes raised his eyebrows. 'Unlocked, you say? H'm. Well, the probable explanation is that Squire Addleton forgot the matter in his quarrel with his nephew. However, there are one or two points which are not yet clear to me.'

'Well, sir?'

'I take it that the murdered man was in his night-clothes?'

'No, he was fully dressed. Mr. Longton was in his night-clothes.'

'I understand that after dinner the squire left the house for an hour or so. Was it his custom to take nocturnal rides?'

Mr. Vincent ceased to stroke his whiskers and shot a keen glance at Holmes. 'Now that you mention it, such was not his custom,' he shrilled. 'But he returned safely and I cannot see—'

'Quite so,' interposed Holmes. 'Would you say that the squire was a wealthy man? Pray be precise in your reply.'

'Matthias Addleton was a very wealthy man. He was, of course, the younger son and emigrated to Australia some forty years ago, that is to say in 1854. He returned in the seventies having amassed a large fortune in the Australian gold-fields and, his elder brother having died, he inherited the family property of Foulkes Rath. Alas, I cannot pretend that he was liked in the neighborhood, for he was a man of morose disposition and as unpopular with his neighbors as he was feared by our local ne'er-do-wells in his capacity as Justice of the Peace. A hard, bitter, brooding man.'

'Was Mr. Percy Longton on good terms with his uncle?'

The lawyer hesitated. 'I am afraid not,' he said at length. 'Mr. Percy, who was the son of the squire's late sister, has lived at Foulkes Rath since his childhood and, on the property passing to his uncle, he remained and managed the estate. He is, of course, the heir under an entailment which covers the house and a part of the land and, on more than one occasion, he has expressed deep resentment at his uncle's sales of certain farms and hold­ ings which led, I fear, to bad blood between them. It was most unfortunate that his wife was absent last night, of all nights.'

'His wife?'

'Yes, there is a Mrs. Longton, a charming, gracious young woman. She was staying with friends for the night at East Grinstead and is due back this morning.' Mr. Vincent paused. 'Poor little Mary,' he ended quietly. 'What a home-coming! The squire dead and her husband charged with murder.'

'One final question,' said Holmes. 'What explanation does your client offer to account for the events of last night?'

'His story is a simple one, Mr. Holmes. He states that at dinner the squire informed him of his intention to sell Chudford Farm and when he remonstrated on the need­lessness of the sale and the damage that it would do to the estate, his uncle turned on him roundly and high words ensued. Later, his uncle called for his horse and rode from the house without a word of explanation. Upon his return, the squire ordered a bottle of port and, as the quarrel threatened to grow from bad to worse, Mr. Percy bade his uncle good-night and retired to his room. However, his mind was too agitated for sleep and twice, ac­cording to his statement, he sat up in bed under the impression that he had caught the distant sound of his uncle's voice from the great hall.'

'Why, then, did he not go to investigate?' interposed Holmes sharply.

'I put that very question to him. He replied that his uncle had been drinking heavily and therefore he assumed that he was raving to himself in the hall. The butler Morstead confirmed that this had occurred not infrequently in the past.'

'Pray continue.'

'The clock over the stables had just chimed midnight and he was drifting at last into slumber when in an instant he was brought back to full consciousness by a dreadful yell that rang through the great silent house. Springing out of bed, he pulled on his dressing-gown and, seizing a candle, ran downstairs to the hall, only to recoil before the terrible sight that met his eyes.

'The hearth and fireplace were spattered with blood, and sprawling in a great crimson pool, his arms raised above his head and his teeth grinning through his beard, lay Squire Addleton. Mr. Percy rushed forward and was bending over his uncle when his eyes fell upon an object that turned him sick and faint. Beside the body of the squire and horribly dappled with the blood of its victim lay an executioner's axe! He recognized it vaguely as forming a part of a trophy of arms that hung above the chimney-piece and without thinking what he was doing he had stooped and picked up the thing when Morstead accompanied by the terrified maidservants burst into the room. Such is the explanation of my unhappy client.'

'Dear me,' said Holmes.

For a long moment, the lawyer and I sat in silence, our eyes fixed upon my friend. His head had fallen back