ating.Theprisonerlaywithhisfacetowardsus,inaverydeepsleep,breathingslowlyandheavily.Hewasamiddle-sizedman,coarselycladasbecamehiscalling,withacolouredshirtprotrudingthroughtherentinhistatteredcoat.Hewas,astheinspectorhadsaid,extremelydirty,butthegrimewhichcoveredhisfacecouldnotconcealitsrepulsiveugliness.Abroadwhealfromanoldscarranrightacrossitfromeyetochin,andbyitscontractionhadturneduponesideoftheupperlip,sothatthreeteethwereexposedinaperpetualsnarl.Ashockofverybrightredhairgrewlowoverhiseyesandforehead.
“He’sabeauty,isn’the?”saidtheinspector.
“Hecertainlyneedsawash,”remarkedHolmes.“Ihadanideathathemight,andItookthelibertyofbringingthetoolswithme.”HeopenedtheGladstonebagashespoke,andtookout,tomyastonishment,averylargebath-sponge.
“He!he!Youareafunnyone,”chuckledtheinspector.
“Now,ifyouwillhavethegreatgoodnesstoopenthatdoorveryquietly,wewillsoonmakehimcutamuchmorerespectablefigure.”
“Well,Idon’tknowwhynot,”saidtheinspector.“Hedoesn’tlookacredittotheBowStreetcells,doeshe?”Heslippedhiskeyintothelock,andweallveryquietlyenteredthecell.Thesleeperhalfturned,andthensettleddownoncemoreintoadeepslumber.Holmesstoopedtothewater-jug,moistenedhissponge,andthenrubbedittwicevigorouslyacrossanddowntheprisoner’sface.
“Letmeintroduceyou,”heshouted,“toMr.NevilleSt.Clair,ofLee,inthecountyofKent.”
NeverinmylifehaveIseensuchasight.Theman’sfacepeeledoffunderthespongelikethebarkfromatree.Gonewasthecoarsebrowntint!Gone,too,wasthehorridscarwhichhadseameditacross,andthetwistedlipwhichhadgiventherepulsivesneertotheface!Atwitchbroughtawaythetangledredhair,andthere,sittingupinhisbed,wasapale,sad-faced,refined-lookingman,black-hairedandsmooth-skinned,rubbinghiseyesandstaringabouthimwithsleepybewilderment.Thensuddenlyrealisingtheexposure,hebrokeintoascreamandthrewhimselfdownwithhisfacetothepillow.
“Greatheavens!”criedtheinspector,“itis,indeed,themissingman.Iknowhimfromthephotograph.”
Theprisonerturnedwiththerecklessairofamanwhoabandonshimselftohisdestiny.“Beitso,”saidhe.“AndpraywhatamIchargedwith?”
“WithmakingawaywithMr.NevilleSt.—Oh,come,youcan’tbechargedwiththatunlesstheymakeacaseofattemptedsuicideofit,”saidtheinspectorwithagrin.“Well,Ihavebeentwenty-sevenyearsintheforce,butthisreallytakesthecake.”
“IfIamMr.NevilleSt.Clair,thenitisobviousthatnocrimehasbeencommitted,andthat,therefore,Iamillegallydetained.”
“Nocrime,butaverygreaterrorhasbeencommitted,”saidHolmes.“Youwouldhavedonebettertohavetrustedyourwife.”
“Itwasnotthewifeitwasthechildren,”groanedtheprisoner.“Godhelpme,Iwouldnothavethemashamedoftheirfather.MyGod!Whatanexposure!WhatcanIdo?”
SherlockHolmessatdownbesidehimonthecouchandpattedhimkindlyontheshoulder.
“Ifyouleaveittoacourtoflawtoclearthematterup,”saidhe,“ofcourseyoucanhardlyavoidpublicity.Ontheotherhand,ifyouconvincethepoliceauthoritiesthatthereisnopossiblecaseagainstyou,Idonotknowthatthereisanyreasonthatthedetailsshouldfindtheirwayintothepapers.InspectorBradstreetwould,Iamsure,makenotesuponanythingwhichyoumighttellusandsubmitittotheproperauthorities.Thecasewouldthennevergointocourtatall.”
“Godblessyou!”criedtheprisonerpassionately.“Iwouldhaveenduredimprisonment,ay,evenexecution,ratherthanhaveleftmymiserablesecretasafamilyblottomychildren.
“Youarethefirstwhohaveeverheardmystory.MyfatherwasaschoolmasterinChesterfield,whereIreceivedanexcellenteducation.Itravelledinmyyouth,tooktothestage,andfinallybecameareporteronaneveningpaperinLondon.Onedaymyeditorwishedtohaveaseriesofarticlesuponbegginginthemetropolis,andIvolunteeredtosupplythem.Therewasthepointfromwhichallmyadventuresstarted.ItwasonlybytryingbeggingasanamateurthatIcouldgetthefactsuponwhichtobasemyarticles.WhenanactorIhad,ofcourse,learnedallthesecretsofmakingup,andhadbeenfamousinthegreen-roomformyskill.Itookadvantagenowofmyattainments.Ipaintedmyface,andtomakemyselfaspitiableaspossibleImadeagoodscarandfixedonesideofmylipinatwistbytheaidofasmallslipofflesh-colouredplaster.Thenwitharedheadofhair,andanappropriatedress,Itookmystationinthebusinesspartofthecity,ostensiblyasamatch-sellerbutreallyasabeggar.Forse