The Exploits of Sherlock Holmes

must forgive the intemperance of her language. 'Old devil,' she sobbed.'Old devil!' '

'Am I to understand,' interposed Holmes, 'that the young lady's future welfare depends on the inheritance of this money?'

'Far from it. Her fiance, Mr. Ainsworth, is a rising young solicitor who is already making his way in the world. Trelawney himself was among his clients.'

'I seemed to detect a certain apprehension when you mentioned your nephew,' said Holmes. 'Since Dr. Griffin inherits this fortune, he was presumably on friendly terms with Trelawney?'

The vicar shifted uncomfortably in his chair. 'On the friendliest possible terms,' he replied with some haste. 'Indeed, on one occasion he saved the squire's life. At the same time, I must confess that he has always been a wild, hot-headed man. His intemperate behaviour has gone a long way towards creating the strong local prejudice which has now risen against him. If the police could show how Trelawney died, my nephew might be under arrest at this moment.'

The vicar paused and looked round. There had come an authoritative rap at the door. An instant later, as it was flung open, we had a glimpse of Mrs. Hudson over the shoulder of a short, thin, rat-faced man, clad in a check suit and bowler hat. As his hard blue eyes fell on Mr. Appley, he paused on the threshold with a growl of surprise.

'You have a certain gift, Lestrade, for timing your appearances with a pleasant touch of the dramatic,' ob­ served Holmes languidly.

'And very awkward for some folk,' remarked the de­tective, depositing his hat beside the gasogene. 'Well, from the presence of this reverend gentleman I take it that you are up to date with this cosy little murder in Somerset. The facts are pretty obvious and all point one way as clear as signposts, eh, Mr. Holmes!'

'Unfortunately, signposts are so easily turned in the opposite direction,' said Holmes; 'a truism of which I have given you one or two small demonstrations in the past, Lestrade.'

The Scotland Yard man flushed angrily. 'Well, well, Mr. Holmes, that's as may be. But there is no doubt this time. There are both the motive and the opportunity. We know the man and it only remains to find the means.'

'I tell you that my unfortunate nephew—!' broke in the clergyman distractedly.

'I have named no names.'

'But you have made it obvious from the moment you heard he was Trelawney's doctor! Admittedly he stands to benefit under that deplorable will.'

'You have forgotten to mention his personal reputation, Mr. Appley,' said Lestrade grimly.

'Wild, yes; romantic, hot-headed if you like! But a cold-blooded murderer—never! I have known him from his cradle.'

'Well, we shall see. Mr. Holmes, I would value a word with you.'

During this interchange between our unhappy client and Lestrade, Holmes had been staring at the ceiling with that far-away, dreamy look upon his face which I had noted only on those occasions when his mind whispered that some subtle thread of evidence was already there to hand, but buried as yet in the maze of obvious facts and no less obvious suspicions. He rose abruptly and turned to the vicar.

'I take it that you return to Somerset this afternoon?'

'By the 2:30 from Paddington.' There was a tinge of colour in his face as he leapt to his feet. 'Am I then to understand, my dear Mr. Holmes—?'

'Dr. Watson and I will accompany you. If you will have the kindness to ask Mrs. Hudson to whistle a cab, Mr. Appley?'

Our client clattered down the stairs.

'This is a somewhat curious affair,' said Holmes, filling his travelling-pouch with shag from the Persian slipper.

'I am glad that at last you see it in that light, my dear fellow,' I remarked, 'for it did seem to me that you were a little impatient from the first with the worthy vicar, especially when he strayed into his early medical ambi­ tions and the probability that he would absent-mindedly have removed a patient's gall-stones.'

The effect of this casual remark was extraordinary. After looking fixedly into space, Holmes sprang to his feet.

'By Jove!' he exclaimed. 'By Jove!'

There was a touch of colour in his high cheekbones and that sudden gleam in his eyes that I knew of old.

'As usual, Watson, your help has been invaluable,' he went on warmly. 'Though not yourself luminous, you are a conductor of light.'

'I have helped you? By mentioning the vicar's gall­stones?'

'Precisely.'

'Really, Holmes!'

'At the moment, I must find a certain surname. Yes, unquestionably I must find a certain surname. Will you hand me the commonplace book under the letter 'B'?'.

I had given him the bulky volume, one of many in which he pasted press-cuttings of any incidents arresting his attention, before I had time to reflect.

'But, Holmes, there is no one in this affair whose surname begins with a 'B'!'

'Quite so. I was aware of it. B-a, Ba-r, Bartlett! H'm! Ha! Good old index.'

After a short perusal, turning over the pages eagerly, Holmes closed the book with a bang and sat tapping its cover with his long, nervous fingers. Behind him, the tubes and beakers and retorts of the chemical table glittered in the sunlight.

'I had not all the data, of course,' he added musingly. 'Even now they are not complete.'

Lestrade caught my eye and winked.

'They are complete enough for me!' he said with a grin. 'They can't deceive me. That red-bearded doctor is a murdering devil. We know the man, and we know the motive.'

'Then why are you here?'

'Because there is one thing lacking. We know he did it, right enough! But how did he do it?'

No less than a dozen times did Lestrade ask the same question during the course of our journey, until it seemed to throb and echo in my head with the very click of the train wheels.

It was a long, hot day and the afterglow of sunset lay on the crests of the softly rounded Somersetshire hills when we alighted at last at the little wayside station. On the hillside beyond the half-timbered gables of the village and set amid noble elm trees from whence, even at that distance, the clear evening air carried the cawing of the homing rooks, there shone a great white house.

'We have a mile before us,' said Lestrade sourly.

'I should prefer not to go to the house at first,' said Holmes. 'Does this village run to an inn?'

'There is the Camberwell Arms.'

'Then let us go there. I prefer to commence on neutral ground.'

'Really, Holmes!' cried Lestrade. 'I cannot imagine—'

'Precisely,' remarked Holmes, and not another word would he utter until we were all ensconced in the private parlour of the ancient hostelry. Holmes scribbled a few lines in his note-book and tore out two leaves.

'Now, Mr. Appley, if I might take the liberty of send­ing your groom with this note to Goodman's Rest and the other to Mr. Ainsworth?'

'By all means.'

'Excellent. Then we have time for a pipe before Miss Dolores and her fiance join us.'

For some time we sat in silence, each busy with his own thoughts. As for myself, I had too much confidence in my friend to accept the obvious at its face value so long as he appeared to be perplexed in his own mind.

'Well, Mr. Holmes,' said Lestrade sternly, at last. 'You have been sufficiently mysterious to satisfy even Dr. Watson here. Let us have your theory.'

'I have no theory. I am merely sounding my facts.'

'Your facts have overlooked the criminal.'

'That remains to be seen. By the way, Vicar, what are the relations between Miss Dolores and your nephew?'