With this, Thorndyke took his departure; and I, adopting his advice, drew my chair closer to the fire and filled my pipe. But I did not discover any inclination to read. The curious history that I had just heard, and Thorndyke’s evident determination to elucidate it further, disposed me to meditation. Moreover, as his subordinate, it was my business to occupy myself with his affairs. Wherefore, having stirred the fire and got my pipe well alight, I abandoned myself to the renewed consideration of the facts relating to Jeffrey Blackmore’s will.
VII
The Cuneiform Inscription
The surprise which Thorndyke’s proceedings usually occasioned, especially to lawyers, was principally due, I think, to my friend’s habit of viewing occurrences from an unusual standpoint. He did not look at things quite as other men looked at them. He had no prejudices and he knew no conventions. When other men were cocksure, Thorndyke was doubtful. When other men despaired, he entertained hopes; and thus it happened that he would often undertake cases that had been rejected contemptuously by experienced lawyers, and, what is more, would bring them to a successful issue.
Thus it had been in the only other case in which I had been personally associated with him—the so-called “Red Thumb Mark” case. There he was presented with an apparent impossibility; but he had given it careful consideration. Then, from the category of the impossible he had brought it to that of the possible; from the merely possible to the actually probable; from the probable to the certain; and in the end had won the case triumphantly.
Was it conceivable that he could make anything of the present case? He had not declined it. He had certainly entertained it and was probably thinking it over at this moment. Yet could anything be more impossible? Here was the case of a man making his own will, probably writing it out himself, bringing it voluntarily to a certain place and executing it in the presence of competent witnesses. There was no suggestion of any compulsion or even influence or persuasion. The testator was admittedly sane and responsible; and if the will did not give effect to his wishes—which, however, could not be proved—that was due to his own carelessness in drafting the will and not to any unusual circumstances. And the problem—which Thorndyke seemed to be considering—was how to set aside that will.
I reviewed the statements that I had heard, but turn them about as I would, I could get nothing out of them but confirmation of Mr. Marchmont’s estimate of the case. One fact that I had noted with some curiosity I again considered; that was Thorndyke’s evident desire to inspect Jeffrey Blackmore’s chambers. He had, it is true, shown no eagerness, but I had seen at the time that the questions which he put to Stephen were put, not with any expectation of eliciting information but for the purpose of getting an opportunity to look over the rooms himself.
I was still cogitating on the subject when my colleague returned, followed by the watchful Polton with the tea-tray, and I attacked him forthwith.
“Well, Thorndyke,” I said, “I have been thinking about this Blackmore case while you have been gadding about.”
“And may I take it that the problem is solved?”
“No, I’m hanged if you may. I can make nothing of it.”
“Then you are in much the same position as I am.”
“But, if you can make nothing of it, why did you undertake it?”
“I only undertook to think about it,” said Thorndyke. “I never reject a case offhand unless it is obviously fishy. It is surprising how difficulties, and even impossibilities, dwindle if you look at them attentively. My experience has taught me that the most unlikely case is, at least, worth thinking over.”
“By the way, why do you want to look over Jeffrey’s chambers? What do you expect to find there?”
“I have no expectations at all. I am simply looking for stray facts.”
“And all those questions that you asked Stephen Blackmore; had you nothing in your mind—no definite purpose?”
“No purpose beyond getting to know as much about the case as I can.”
“But,” I exclaimed, “do you mean that you are going to examine those rooms without any definite object at all?”
“I wouldn’t say that,” replied Thorndyke. “This is a legal case. Let me put an analogous medical case as being more within your present sphere. Supposing that a man should consult you, say, about a progressive loss of weight. He can give no explanation. He has no pain, no discomfort, no symptoms of any kind; in short, he feels perfectly well in every respect; but he is losing weight continuously. What would you do?”
“I should overhaul him thoroughly,” I answered.
“Why? What would you expect to find?”
“I don’t know that I should start by expecting to find anything in particular. But I should overhaul him organ by organ and function by function, and if I could find nothing abnormal I should have to give it up.”
“Exactly,” said Thorndyke. “And that is just my position and my line of action. Here is a case which is perfectly regular and straightforward excepting in one respect. It has a single abnormal feature. And for that abnormality there is nothing to account.
“Jeffrey Blackmore made a will. It was a well-drawn will and it apparently gave full effect to his intentions. Then he revoked that will and made another. No change had occurred in his circumstances or in
