husband's room. I saw a light, winking on and off from the roof over his room.'
'And you think it might be your husband, secretly passing on government secrets to the Kaiser,' Holmes interrupted with an impatient edge to his voice.
Mrs. Barker's face went dead white and she swayed in her chair. I leapt to my feet and held her upright while Holmes went for the brandy. She never fainted completely, and the spirits revived her, but she was still pale and shaken when we sat back down in our chairs.
'Mr. Holmes, how could you have known that?' 'My good lady, you told me yourself.' Seeing her bewilderment, he said with exaggerated patience, 'You told me that his illnesses correspond with clear nights when signals can be seen for miles, and you told me that he is invariably alone at those times. In addition, I have seen his distinctly Germanic features in the car. Your emotions make it obvious that you are torn between finding the truth and discovering that your husband is a traitor. If you suspected someone else you would not be so upset. Now, tell us about your household.'
She took a shaky sip of brandy and continued.
'We have five full-time servants who live in the house. The others are day help from the village. There is Terrence Howell, my husband's man, and Sylvia Jacobs, my maid; Sally and Ronald Woods, the cook and chief gardener; and lastly Ron Athens, who keeps the stable and the two cars. Terrence has been with my husband for years; Sylvia I hired eight years ago; the others came when we opened the house.'
Holmes sat staring off at a corner for some minutes, then leapt suddenly to his feet.
'Madam, if you would be so good as to go home now, I think it very likely that a couple of your neighbours may be around to your door later this afternoon. Shall we say, around three o'clock? An unexpected visit, you understand?'
The lady rose, clutching her bag.
'Thank you, Mr. Holmes, I hope — ' She looked down. 'If my fears are correct, I have married a traitor. If I am wrong, I am myself guilty of traitorous thoughts against my husband. There is no win here, only duty.'
Holmes touched her hand and she looked up at him. He smiled with extraordinary kindness into her eyes.
'Madam, there is no treachery in the truth. There may be pain, but to face honestly all possible conclusions formed by a set of facts is the noblest route possible for a human being.' Holmes could be surprisingly empathetic at times, and his words now had a gentling effect on the lady. She smiled wanly, patted his hand, and left.
Holmes and I proceeded with our odoriferous experiment and at two o'clock left the cottage, leaving the windows and doors full open, to walk to the manor house. We approached it casually, from cross-country rather than along the road, and studied the setting as we walked up the hill towards it.
The three-storey house dominated the area, built as it was atop one of the tallest hills. Moreover, at one end was a tall, square tower that had all the earmarks of a folly added on to imitate some spurious Norman original. It served to unbalance the rest of the building, which apart from the excrescence had a comfortable, sturdy appearance. I said as much to Holmes.
'Yes, the builder may have had some desire to view the sea,' he replied. 'I believe that a close examination of the topographical maps would show a correlation between that tower and the gap in the hills over there.'
'They do.'
'Ah, so that was where you went while I was lacing on my boots.'
'To look at your maps, yes. I don't know this part of the downs as well as you do, so I thought I would take a glance at how the land lies.'
'I think we may assume that the upper rooms in the tower are those of Richard Barker. Put on a casual, happen to be in the neighbourhood face, now, Russell, here's the gentleman himself.'
He raised his voice, calling 'Hello, the house!'
His hail had two immediate and astonishing results. The old gentleman shot from his sunlit chair, turned his back to us and waved his hands in the air, shouting unintelligibly. Holmes and I looked at each other curiously, but the reason for his extraordinary behaviour was apparent in another instant, as a pack of what looked like forty dogs came baying and scrabbling across the terrace towards us. The multicoloured sea parted around the old gentleman, ignoring his frantic waves entirely. Holmes and I stepped slightly apart and readied the heavy walking sticks we always carried for such occasions, but the canine mob was not out for blood and simply encircled us, baying, yapping, and barking madly. The old man came up, his mouth moving, but his presence made absolutely no impact. However, another man came running around the corner of the house, followed shortly by a third, and waded into the sea, seizing scruffs, tails, and fistfuls of fur. Their voices gradually prevailed, and order was slowly restored. Having done their jobs, the dogs sat and stood merrily awaiting further fun, tongues lolling, tails wagging. At this point Mrs. Barker came from the house, and the dogs and her husband all turned to her.
'My dear,' said he in a thin voice, 'something really must be done about these dogs.'
She looked sternly at the dogs and spoke to them.
'Shame on you. Is this how you act when neighbours come to visit? You should know better than that.'
The effect of her words on the crowd was instantaneous. Jaws snapped shut, heads went down, tails were tucked in. Looking totally abashed and glancing at us guiltily, the dogs tiptoed silently away. There were only seventeen of them, I noticed, ranging from two tiny Yorkshire terriers to a massive wolfhound who could easily have weighed eleven stone. Mrs. Barker stood with her hands on her hips as the last of them disappeared into the shrubbery, then turned to us, shaking her head.
'I am very sorry for that. We have so few visitors, I'm afraid they become overly excited.'
'Let dogs delight to bark and bite, for God hath made them so,' Holmes commented politely, if unexpectedly. 'We ought not to have come here unannounced, for their sakes if not yours. My name is Holmes; this is Mary Russell. We were out for a walk and wished for a closer view of your handsome home. We'll not bother you further.'
'No, no,' said Mrs. Barker before her husband could speak. 'You must come in for refreshment. A glass of sherry, or is it not too early for tea? Tea it is, then. We are neighbours, I believe. I've seen you from the road. I am Mrs. Barker; this is my husband.' She turned to the other two men. 'Thank you, Ron, they'll be quiet now. Terrence, could you please tell Mrs. Woods that we will take tea now, and there will be four. We'll be in the conservatory in a few minutes. Thank you.'
'That's very kind of you, Mrs. Barker. I am sure Miss Russell is as in need of refreshment as I am after our walk.' He turned to the older man, who had stood watching his wife affectionately as she dealt with dogs, guests, and men. 'Mr. Barker, this is a most interesting building. Portland stone, is it not? From the early eighteenth century? And when was the folly added?'
The obvious interest Holmes had in the structure led to a deep conversation concerning cracking foundations, wood beetles, leaded windows, the cost of coal, and the drawbacks of the British tradesman. After a hearty tea we were offered a tour, and Holmes, the amateur architectural enthusiast, talked his way into the tower as well. We climbed up the narrow, open wooden steps while Mr. Barker rode in the tiny lift he had installed. He met us at the top.
'I've always wanted an ivory tower.' He smiled. 'It was the main reason I bought the place, this tower. The lift was an extravagance, but I have problems with climbing the stairs. These are my rooms here. I'd like you to see my view.'
The view was indeed panoramic, a northerly outlook up to the beginnings of the dark weald. Having admired it and the rooms, we set off again for the stairs, but before we reached them Holmes abruptly turned and made for a ladder leaning against a wall at the end of the hallway.
'I do hope you don't mind, Mr. Barker, but I must see the top of this magnificent tower. I'll just be an instant, Russell. Note this clever trapdoor here.' His voice faded and echoed as his feet disappeared.
'But it's not safe up there, Mr. Holmes,' Mr. Barker protested. He turned to me. 'I can't think why that door is unlocked. I told Ron to fix a padlock to it. I was up there three years ago, and I didn't like the look of it at all.'
'He'll be quite careful, Mr. Barker, and I'm sure he'll be just a moment. Ah, see, here he comes now.' Holmes' long legs reappeared down the ladder, and his eyes seemed darker as he turned happily towards us.
'Thank you, Mr. Barker, you have a most interesting tower. Now, tell me about the primitive art you have in your hall downstairs. New Guinean, isn't it? The Sepik River, I believe?'
Mr. Barker was successfully distracted and walked slowly down the stairs on Holmes' arm, talking about his
