I take a puff and place the cigar in the ashtray, with my right hand, as presumably, my left hand is holding a book.'
'The fallen book was on the left side of the chair,' interjected Bennett.
Holmes continued his fantasy. 'Watson, you have a wooden weapon in your hand and you deliver a resounding whack to the back of my head.' In dumb show, I followed directions. 'Now,' continued Holmes, 'I presume that the path of the blow that you just delivered would bash me on the right side, since you happen to be right-handed.'
'You are correct, Holmes,' I agreed.
A keen glance from Holmes prompted Bennett to produce a pocket notebook, which he riffled quickly and then read from: 'The right occipital and parietal bones of the victim's skull were shattered by a blow from a heavy weapon.' He flipped his notebook shut. 'That was the statement of Dr. Devon Almont,' he continued.
There was a sardonic smile on the detective's face. 'And, my dear Bennett, while you made reference to the Silver Blaze incident, I rather fancy that you considered another matter with which I was once occupied. May I hazard the guess that young Charles Trelawney is left-handed?'
The constable nodded, a gleam of admiration in his eyes. 'I did not wish to muddle your thought processes with my own ideas, but you have arrived unerringly at the point that has bothered me.'
'I'm delighted that you are both in agreement,' I said, with a touch of asperity in my voice. 'Would someone explain this to me?'
''Black Jack of Ballarat,'' quoted Holmes. 'Come now, Watson, if you were left-handed, would you have delivered the same blow that you just did in dumb show?'
'Of course not. How stupid of me.' My mind flashed back to another time and a baffling mystery that had also taken place in rural surroundings. 'But wait just a minute,' I continued, prompted by another thought. 'If Charles is ruled out as the murderer, we are left with Horace Ledbetter and Vincent Staley as suspects. Would the dog now dozing in your lap, Holmes, have allowed either of them to enter the house, much less this room, without raising a row?' I turned to Constable Bennett. 'What breed of canine is Lama anyway? I don't recall ever seeing one like him before.'
'Mostly terrier, I would imagine,' was Bennett's answer. 'A mixed breed.'
'Let me disagree on that point,' stated Holmes.
Suddenly, while gently stroking the subject under discussion, Holmes' lips pursed and he emitted a shrill whistle. The dog lay undisturbed on his lap.
'Good heavens, Holmes,' I stammered. 'What was that for?'
'Merely an experiment, old boy.' Holmes' glance returned to Bennett. 'As to Lama's ancestry, let me assure you that he is a pure-bred and blue-blood indeed. As Watson well knows, following the incident at Reichenbach Falls, I placed myself in voluntary exile for several years, since two most vindictive enemies of mine, who were part of Professor Moriarty's gang, were still at liberty. During that period I traveled to Tibet and visited Lhasa to confer with the head lama. Sitting in my lap, gentlemen, is a Lhasa Apso, also known as a Tibetan terrier. They are bred in that country as watchdogs. I suggested that the breed might be introduced to England, but others, more knowledgeable on the subject, felt that our lowlands might not prove suitable to the strain. Anywhere in England is the lowlands to Lama here, since his native habitat is at sixteen thousand feet above sea level. However, our comparatively heavy atmosphere doesn't seem to have bothered this little chap, so perhaps my original thought was not without merit.'
'This is all very interesting, Holmes,' I persisted, 'but you still haven't answered my question.'
'The Lhasa Apso is peculiar in that it is the only dog, to my knowledge, that frequently has blue eyes. Oh, occasionally a Dalmatian may have one blue eye, but not two. Consider for a moment, both of you, how many blue-eyed dogs either of you has seen.'
Bennett and I exchanged a glance and then a shrug. 'I don't usually make note of the color of a dog's eyes,' said the constable, 'but I daresay you are right, Mr. Holmes.'
'Both of Lama's eyes are blue,' stated Holmes, as though this brought the matter to an end.
'For the life of me I fail to see what the little fellow's eye coloration has to do with this case.' Possibly my tone was somewhat testy.
'Blue-eyed dogs are very subject to congenital defects, Watson. The most common one is deafness. Lama is as deaf as a post.'
'But he barked his head off when we arrived.'
'His sense of smell, dear boy, more acute in a canine than his sense of hearing. On the night of the murder, I picture Lama peacefully asleep at his master's feet in his soundless world. You noted, of course, that my shrill whistle of a moment ago did not even make him flinch. Trelawney was smoking one of his Indian cigars, the odor of which Lama has become unwillingly accustomed to through the passage of time. But the cigar smell effectively smothered the dog's ability to raise a scent. The acrid smoke anesthetized Lama's olfactory sense. Through no fault of his own, the poor dog was completely incapable of performing the task he was bred to do. Namely, to be a good watchdog.'
'That does it,' snapped Bennett. 'I knew young Charles couldn't have been the culprit.'
'Then we are back to Horace Ledbetter and Vincent Staley, both of whom suffer from congenital defects themselves. Namely, a blind hatred of each other and of Ezariah Trelawney.'
'Very well put, Watson,' said Holmes, with approval. 'However, the hatred had existed for decades. What fanned the spark into flame at this particular time?'
'I can give you one theory, Mr. Holmes,' said the constable. 'In a village like Shaw, little happens that isn't public knowledge. Feed and grain is not the business it once was in these parts. Vincent Staley owed the bank a considerable amount. He had asked for an extension, which, due to Ezariah Trelawney, was denied. Staley is on the brink of ruin.'
'Excellent, Bennett!' said the great detective. 'Now you give us a motive.' The sleuth of Baker Street was thoughtful for a time. 'But we are still in the tender area of circumstantial evidence. How about Horace Ledbetter, the other prime suspect?'
'Just prior to the inquest, I rode out to his farm. His niece, Agnes Bisbee, said that the day of the murder she had had a conversation with Ledbetter which had thrown him into a rage and that he had ridden off to Marley. The Ledbetter property is midway between Shaw and Marley. I haven't had the chance to catch up with him since that time.'
The constable concluded his statement with a hesitant air. Holmes regarded him searchingly, as though reaching within the recesses of his brain. 'There is something else, obviously,' commented the detective.
Bennett nodded. 'It didn't come out at the inquest since it seemed to have no bearing at the time, but young Charles and Agnes Bisbee have been keeping company. They've had to be pretty sly about it too, considering the circumstances.'
'Montague and Capulet.' Holmes' eyes had a faraway look. 'But, you see, it does explain a great deal. Charles Trelawney states that he returned to Shaw at ten forty-five and the stationmaster says he was on the six o'clock train. The young lover was silent because Romeo was with Juliet. Agnes Bisbee had a discussion with her uncle which threw him into a rage. About her intention to marry the stepson of his hereditary enemy, no doubt. The recent strain in the relations between Ezariah Trelawney and his stepson can also be laid at the doorstep of the star-crossed lovers.'
Gently lifting the dog from his lap and placing him on the floor, Holmes rose to his feet. 'The hour is late, but the time spent has been profitable. I doubt if Charles Trelawney need appear before the magistrates or, indeed, the assizes.'
'But there is a strong possibility that Vincent Staley might.' Bennett's voice was grim. 'Let me walk you back to the inn, gentlemen. You have indeed earned a mite of rest in what is left of the night.'
While I had enjoyed a lengthy nap on the train trip to Shaw, the country air acted like a soporific. It was late the following morning when I forced my eyes open to find Holmes, fully dressed, standing beside my bed, smiling. I grabbed at the watch, formerly the property of my departed brother of sad memory, which was on the bed-stand. One look provoked a groan.
'Great Scott, Holmes, you have allowed me to sleep away the morning!'
'No matter, dear fellow. My expedition proved a simple one and required no assistance.'
'Expedition, indeed,' I said, climbing from the bed and dressing as rapidly as possible. 'Where to, may I
