undisclosed reason, and the butler inquired with concern if it were possible for Mr. Holmes to share my room should he be arriving shortly. He explained that Mrs. Deets had been in the process of redecorating all the other bedrooms, save the master suite, prior to her sudden departure for her sister's home on Tuesday. The reference to 'sudden departure' rather pricked up my ears, and then the day of the week mentioned caught my attention. It now being Thursday, this would mean that Deets's wife had been bustled off to her sister's on the day that he visited us at Baker Street.
I forestalled the servant's departure with the indication that a refill would be acceptable, and thought furiously.
'Was it Tuesday that your mistress left, Dooley?' I asked, with what I hoped was a casual air. 'I was of a mind that it was Monday.'
'Oh no, sir, the mistress left on Tuesday all right, for it was the same day that Mr. Deets went to London.'
Well, our client had specified that his wife had taken her trip before the incident of the intruder. I also thought it singular that the lady was removed from the estate immediately following the happening. Obviously, Deets was more concerned about the matter than he had indicated, or possibly his wife was of a nervous nature, though this did not coincide with my picture of an English lady satisfied with the rural life of a country estate, as high-toned as it might be. I decided to abandon this subject when I realized that, for all I knew, Mrs. Deets was not English at all and her life at Mayswood might not be a happy one either.
'Dooley,' I said, accepting a refill that I noted was liberal. 'Mr. Deets tells me you have been with the family for some time.'
'I had the honor of serving his father.'
'After his travels?'
'His travels, sir?'
The question to my question was delivered so immediately and honestly that I almost spoke of the famous Captain Spaulding and his explorations, but drew back in time. I was getting in too deep and was rather glad that the present master of the house returned at this moment.
Shortly thereafter we dined, following which my host graciously took me for a stroll round the grounds, providing excellent cigars for us both to enjoy during it, though I have always felt that the taste and aroma of a cigar loses something in the open air. They, like good brandy, are meant to be enjoyed in a comfortable easy chair, to be savored, as 'twere. I told the equine expert about the monograph Holmes had once published dealing with the ash of every known brand of cigar and tobacco and rather lengthily titled: 'Upon the Distinction between the Ashes of the Various Tobaccos.'
This so intrigued Deets, who obviously enjoyed the good things of life, that I was able to guide our footsteps without seeming to into the area of the stables containing the riding horses, and I used my eyes as well as I could and managed a few leading questions as well.
Life on a breeding farm evidently began at an early hour. It was with no difficulty that I was able to reach my bedroom before nine. My riding habit of the day had been carefully brushed, and the boots polished to a fine sheen. But the container in which my toilet articles were kept had not been opened. A tiny piece of wax was still under the cover when I opened it. This was a trick that I had learned from Holmes years ago. Within was the small candle that I had taken the precaution to include with my razor and the rest of my kit.
Extinguishing the lights on the hour, I lit the candle and passed it three times across the center window of my room. I then snuffed out the flame and blinked my eyes to allow clearer vision in the darkness, another trick of the sleuth. In short order there were three answering flashes from the woods. Quick work, I thought, but then Gilligan and Styles already knew which side of the house to watch. My trip into Litchfield had been of some benefit.
Clear country air, free from the oily smoke of channel coal, has a soporific effect, and I felt myself drifting off to sleep almost immediately.
My final thoughts were that it had not been a wasted day and I could think of no grievous errors I had made. Possibly I had some aptitude in the sleuthing line after all.
The following day gave promise of being a repetition of the previous one. Fandango seemed more familiar with my ways and allowed me, with a resigned air I thought, to make a complete circuit of the estate. I noted the various roads and paths as best I could along with the general terrain. Then we traveled to Litchfield where I avoided 'The Red Lion' but, from habit, visited the cable office. I was somewhat surprised to find a message there, not yet dispatched to Mayswood. It was brief, as Holmes's cables were wont to be: 'Inform those concerned of my arrival tomorrow. S.H.'
I allowed Fandango her head returning to the stud farm, and she made a rapid job of it. A good thing, too, since I had noted a number of aches and pains when we had set out, and our brisk return trip seemed to relieve them rather than compound the problem.
I informed Deets of the contents of the cable and he finally expressed curiosity, reasonable under the circumstances.
'I wonder what he has learned?' It was a general question, but I sensed he expected an answer and might be a little suspicious if he didn't get one.
Well, ol' boy, I thought, you'd better make this good. Holmes has remarked often that subtlety is not one of your talents. Let's prove him wrong. Holmes was not a fabricator; he did not have to be. But I had noted that when he found it expedient to lay a false scent, he employed as much of the truth as possible. I determined to follow this principle in my first attempt at flim-flammery.
'I seldom know all of Holmes's moves until after the checkmate.' Well, that was certainly true. 'As he mentioned,' I continued, 'the fact that the intruder used a bolo-type device alerted him to a South American as a possibility. I can give you a guess.'
Deets indicated this would be appreciated. 'Holmes's knowledge of the criminal classes is extensive, and in addition he has access to the files of Scotland Yard and the Surete as well, if need be.' I didn't dwell on the Kriminal Archiv of the Berlin police. No sense in overdoing it.
'I think he has selected possibilities from known second-story men who are agile, strong, but small.'
'Why small?' The wary look in Deets's eyes was fading away.
'He pulled himself up to the balcony in short order and descended in a trice; otherwise you would have seen him. That's not easy for a weighty man. Holmes pictures a type like a tumbler or acrobat, who is also adept with a weighted line. He has been narrowing down the list, and his cable indicates that he now has a prime suspect.'
'But how does this tie in with your presence here? Not that your company hasn't been welcome,' Deets hastened to add, with the true instincts of a proper host. 'Your stories of Mr. Holmes's cases have been of great interest.'
I hope I exhibited a magnanimous air. For safety's sake, I resorted to the oft-used device of a Socratical response.
'Would you think it possible that a man of that description might have been seen in this area?'
He nodded, of course. What else could he do?
'In fact, the culprit might still be in the vicinity planning a second attempt. If so,' I stated with a touch of bravado, 'my presence on the scene might deter such an idea.'
Deets's boyish smile had returned.
'You detectives really have to touch all the wickets, don't you?'
'Detail. Painstaking detail. The sifting of all the facts and, finally, the forming of the relevant elements into a mosaic, a design that throws the harsh light of truth on what happened or, possibly of more importance, what might happen.'
As well to be hung for a sheep as a goat, I thought. Deets didn't really know what I was talking about, for I didn't know myself. But it had a good sound to it and obviously played a pleasant tune in his ears. I resolved to attend future discussions between Holmes and our client lest some of my words come back at me.
I was present, but not at all in the manner that I had anticipated.
Chapter Eight
A Harrowing Night
