lingsofthesesots,asIhavedonebeforenow.HadIbeenrecognisedinthatdenmylifewouldnothavebeenworthanhour’spurchaseforIhaveuseditbeforenowformyownpurposes,andtherascallyLascarwhorunsithassworntohavevengeanceuponme.Thereisatrap-dooratthebackofthatbuilding,nearthecornerofPaul’sWharf,whichcouldtellsomestrangetalesofwhathaspassedthroughituponthemoonlessnights.”
“What!Youdonotmeanbodies?”
“Ay,bodies,Watson.Weshouldberichmenifwehad￡1000foreverypoordevilwhohasbeendonetodeathinthatden.Itisthevilestmurder-traponthewholeriverside,andIfearthatNevilleSt.Clairhasentereditnevertoleaveitmore.Butourtrapshouldbehere.”Heputhistwoforefingersbetweenhisteethandwhistledshrilly—asignalwhichwasansweredbyasimilarwhistlefromthedistance,followedshortlybytherattleofwheelsandtheclinkofhorses’hoofs.
“Now,Watson,”saidHolmes,asatalldog-cartdashedupthroughthegloom,throwingouttwogoldentunnelsofyellowlightfromitssidelanterns.“You’llcomewithme,won’tyou?”
“IfIcanbeofuse.”
“Oh,atrustycomradeisalwaysofuseandachroniclerstillmoreso.MyroomatTheCedarsisadouble-beddedone.”
“TheCedars?”
“YesthatisMr.St.Clair’shouse.IamstayingtherewhileIconducttheinquiry.”
“Whereisit,then?”
“NearLee,inKent.Wehaveaseven-miledrivebeforeus.”
“ButIamallinthedark.”
“Ofcourseyouare.You’llknowallaboutitpresently.Jumpuphere.Allright,Johnweshallnotneedyou.Here’shalfacrown.Lookoutformeto-morrow,abouteleven.Giveherherhead.Solong,then!”
Heflickedthehorsewithhiswhip,andwedashedawaythroughtheendlesssuccessionofsombreanddesertedstreets,whichwidenedgradually,untilwewereflyingacrossabroadbalustradedbridge,withthemurkyriverflowingsluggishlybeneathus.Beyondlayanotherdullwildernessofbricksandmortar,itssilencebrokenonlybytheheavy,regularfootfallofthepoliceman,orthesongsandshoutsofsomebelatedpartyofrevellers.Adullwrackwasdriftingslowlyacrossthesky,andastarortwotwinkleddimlyhereandtherethroughtheriftsoftheclouds.Holmesdroveinsilence,withhisheadsunkuponhisbreast,andtheairofamanwhoislostinthought,whileIsatbesidehim,curioustolearnwhatthisnewquestmightbewhichseemedtotaxhispowerssosorely,andyetafraidtobreakinuponthecurrentofhisthoughts.Wehaddrivenseveralmiles,andwerebeginningtogettothefringeofthebeltofsuburbanvillas,whenheshookhimself,shruggedhisshoulders,andlituphispipewiththeairofamanwhohassatisfiedhimselfthatheisactingforthebest.
“Youhaveagrandgiftofsilence,Watson,”saidhe.“Itmakesyouquiteinvaluableasacompanion.’Ponmyword,itisagreatthingformetohavesomeonetotalkto,formyownthoughtsarenotover-pleasant.IwaswonderingwhatIshouldsaytothisdearlittlewomanto-nightwhenshemeetsmeatthedoor.”
“YouforgetthatIknownothingaboutit.”
“IshalljusthavetimetotellyouthefactsofthecasebeforewegettoLee.Itseemsabsurdlysimple,andyet,somehowIcangetnothingtogoupon.There’splentyofthread,nodoubt,butIcan’tgettheendofitintomyhand.Now,I’llstatethecaseclearlyandconciselytoyou,Watson,andmaybeyoucanseeasparkwhereallisdarktome.”
“Proceed,then.”
“Someyearsago—tobedefinite,inMay,1884—therecametoLeeagentleman,NevilleSt.Clairbyname,whoappearedtohaveplentyofmoney.Hetookalargevilla,laidoutthegroundsverynicely,andlivedgenerallyingoodstyle.Bydegreeshemadefriendsintheneighbourhood,andin1887hemarriedthedaughterofalocalbrewer,bywhomhenowhastwochildren.Hehadnooccupation,butwasinterestedinseveralcompaniesandwentintotownasaruleinthemorning,returningbythe5:14fromCannonStreeteverynight.Mr.St.Clairisnowthirty-sevenyearsofage,isamanoftemperatehabits,agoodhusband,averyaffectionatefather,andamanwhoispopularwithallwhoknowhim.Imayaddthathiswholedebtsatthepresentmoment,asfaraswehavebeenabletoascertain,amountto￡8810s.,whilehehas￡220standingtohiscreditintheCapitalandCountiesBank.Thereisnoreason,therefore,tothinkthatmoneytroubleshavebeenweighinguponhismind.
“LastMondayMr.NevilleSt.Clairwentintotownratherearlierthanusual,remarkingbeforehestartedthathehadtwoimportantcommissionstoperform,andthathewouldbringhislittleboyhomeaboxofbricks.Now,bythemerestchance,hiswifereceivedatelegramuponthissameMonday,veryshortlyafterhisdeparture,totheeffectthatasmallparcelofconsiderablevaluewhichshehadbeene