might have said that the door was open. Had this been the case, the possibility could have existed that the dog was in some other part of the house when the fatal blow was struck.'
'That bothered me also,' replied the constable.
'Another thought,' continued Holmes. 'From your description and that in the papers, Trelawney's skull had been shattered from behind very severely. Would not a blow of such strength have driven the body from the chair?'
'Not necessarily,' I stated automatically. 'It was mentioned that the corpse was well beyond the three score and ten. At that age, bones tend to become more fragile. The blow need not have been delivered with great strength.'
'A good point, my dear Watson.'
Bennett continued: 'Whatever the weapon was, we did not find it. After inspecting the wound in greater detail, Dr. Almont delivered the opinion that it was caused by a club or stave perhaps, but definitely of wood. Lama was very nervous and whining, but Charles was able to quiet him. A book was on the floor, open, as though it had fallen from Ezariah's hands.'
'Which it probably had,' reflected Holmes. 'There was a half-consumed cigar in a tray by the chair. I believe that it was in the tray and lit when Ezariah was killed. It looked like it had gone out of its own volition.'
'Now that is interesting,' said Holmes. 'I should have guessed the victim was a smoker since he made you a gift of a cigar.'
''Twas the same type that I'm smoking right now,' replied Bennett. 'Ezariah had them sent to him from Amsterdam, as you divined, Mr. Holmes.'
'What else can you tell us, Bennett?' asked Holmes.
'Well, sir, the maid and cook had left at seven, and a number of people saw them crossing the town square at that time. They both have families who testified that they returned home at their regular time and stayed there the entire night.'
'So,' said the great detective, 'the murdered man was alone and someone, anyone, could have entered the house.'
'For a fact,' agreed Bennett. 'We don't lock doors in Shaw since crime, as such, really doesn't exist. Oh, occasionally a couple of sheep are missing but they always turn up. After payday, a few of our local cutups drain the bottle too deep and I have to make motions like a policeman, but that's about the whole of it. Until now,' he added.
'But it was not always thus,' prompted Holmes.
'Well, sir, now we go back a ways, long before my time. It was in the days of Monks Holes and the religious wars, and this was not the peaceful countryside it is now. Ezariah Trelawney was childless and adopted Charles, who was a foundling. There is another resident, Horace Ledbetter, who has a farm on the outskirts. He is the last of his family as well. He has a niece, Agnes Bisbee, who lives with him, but she is the daughter of his dead wife's sister and no blood kin. The local feed-and-grain store belongs to Vincent Staley, who never did marry. 'Tis said he has some relatives in Lancashire, but I don't know that for a fact. But it is a fact that at one time all three of the families were large ones and owned a lot of the land in these parts. It is hard to put a finger on what started it all. Some say that one of the Staleys was a wild lad with a taste for liquor and an eye for the lassies. He was supposed to have been riding through the countryside and come upon one of the Ledbetter girls and had his way with her. The next thing was the Staley estate was attacked in force by the Ledbetters and it was a pitching battle with a lot of bodies that never rose again. How the Trelawneys got into it is a mite vague. One story is that the oldest Trelawney tried to make peace between the two families and was cut down by mistake. Whatever the reasons, the three families went after each other with a vengeance. 'Twas like one of those Scottish feuds one hears of that went on so long that the original cause is unknown.'
Holmes' lips were forming a comment when I advanced an opinion. 'Possibly, you are referring to the Sutherland-Mackaye feud, which continued for seven hundred years. However, the cause is known. The two clans went to war due to an argument as to which one had been appointed by the king to defend the north against the Dane. This local bloodletting sounds more like the Hatfield-McCoy affair, which occurred in the southern United States. Or perhaps the Lincoln County war, which was in the American West.' I noted that both Bennett and Holmes were staring at me in surprise as I amended my last statement. 'No, the Lincoln County cattle war was of far shorter duration than the conflict you describe. However, it did produce William Bonney, known as Billy the Kid.'
Holmes' eyes seemed almost glazed. 'Watson, I never dreamed you were such a fount of wisdom regarding feuds and family strife.'
'Well . . . I . . . it just happened to be a subject that interested me at one time,' I stammered, somewhat embarrassed.
'Obviously,' commented Constable Bennett. 'In any case, the Trelawneys and the Ledbetters and the Staleys had a real go at it and the war continued from father to son. When law finally came, it was not a case of their drawing swords on sight, but there were a lot of disappearances and unusual deaths. Finally, they whittled each other down so much there was not enough left to fight. But it is a fact that Ezariah Trelawney, Horace Ledbetter, and Vincent Staley hated each other from childhood and their feeling did not mellow with the coming of age.'
'What a strange saga!' I said.
'But definitely connected with the death of Ezariah Trelawney. It gives us two potential suspects with more motive for murder than many assassins might have,' was Holmes' comment.
Chapter 3
The Blue-Eyed Dog
HOLMES SEEMED content with the preliminary review of facts. He rose, restlessly. Gone was the quiet thinker and logician of Baker Street, and instead there was the great detective intent on the chase. His eyes shone with a steely glitter and his whole body seemed to cry for action.
'The hour is late, but is it possible for us to examine the Trelawney house now?'
'I was hoping you would suggest it,' answered Bennett. 'I have been staying there to make sure that sensation-seekers don't disturb the premises.'
Leaving the Queens Arms and crossing the town square, we found ourselves at the door of a stately mansion set well back from the tree-lined street. No lights were visible in the small village and the silence was broken only by the sound of night crickets and the infrequent hoot of a distant owl. As we approached the house, our arrival was acknowledged by excited barks.
'Lama,' said Constable Bennett. 'The maid will keep the place in trim until there is a disposition of the estate and together we try and take care of the little tyke.'
As he unlocked and opened the outer portal, a small terrier with a long, heavy coat rushed out, continuing to bark. The little dog sniffed at Holmes' boots, and then mine, to learn what he could. Evidently, he detected nothing suspicious and preceded us into the house. As Bennett led me through the large hall toward a side door Holmes paused to let the dog smell his hand and then took the liberty of stroking its long hair. Allowing Lama to show him the way, Holmes joined us in the room where Ezariah Trelawney had breathed his last.
I admired the beautiful wood paneling on the walls of the study, which must have dated back to the time of Cromwell or before. Bennett carefully explained that nothing had been moved, though the maid had insisted on opening the windows and airing out the room. Nevertheless, I could still detect the acrid odor of the Indian cigars to which the deceased was evidently addicted. The study was a man's room with hunting trophies adorning the walls. An ancient suit of armor was standing in one corner.
Holmes inspected the chair in which Trelawney had been sitting, noted the attendant ashtray, and finally seated himself in the chair. An unusual affinity seemed to have sprung up between Lama and the great detective. After some urging and a couple of suggestive pats on his knee, Holmes was able to coax the creature onto his lap, where the little fellow made himself quite comfortable and appeared to sleep. Holmes remained immobile so as not to disturb the dog as he offered a suggestion.
'Let us recreate the crime casting you, Watson, in the sinister role of assailant unknown.'
'As you wish, Holmes,' I replied, knowing that the little games that my friend chose to play frequently climaxed in amazing revelations. 'What actions are called for in your manuscript?'
'You approach me from the door—stealthily, of course.' I did so. 'Now, I am sitting here, with a lighted cigar.
