福尔摩斯案卷-II THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLANCHED SOLDIER
The ideas of my friend Watson, though limited,
are exceedingly pertinacious. For a long
time he has worried me to write an experience of
my own. Perhaps I have rather invited this persecution,
since I have often had occasion to point out
to him how superficial are his own accounts and to
accuse him of pandering to popular taste instead
of confining himself rigidly to facts and figures.
"Try it yourself, Holmes!" he has retorted, and
I am compelled to admit that, having taken my
pen in my hand, I do begin to realize that the
matter must be presented in such a way as may
interest the reader. The following case can hardly
fail to do so, as it is among the strangest happenings
in my collection, though it chanced that Watson had
no note of it in his collection. Speaking of my old
friend and biographer, I would take this opportunity
to remark that if I burden myself with a companion
in my various little inquiries it is not done
out of sentiment or caprice, but it is that Watson
has some remarkable characteristics of his own, to
which in his modesty he has given small attention
amid his exaggerated estimates of my own performances.
A confederate who foresees your conclusions
and course of action is always dangerous, but one
to whom each development comes as a perpetual
surprise, and to whom the future is always a closed
book, is, indeed, an ideal helpmate.
I find from my notebook that it was in January,
1903, just after the conclusion of the Boer War, that
I had my visit from Mr. James M. Dodd, a big,
fresh, sunburned, upstanding Briton. The good
Watson had at that time deserted me for a wife,
the only selfish action which I can recall in our
association. I was alone.
It is my habit to sit with my back to the window
and to place my visitors in the opposite chair, where
the light falls full upon them. Mr. James M. Dodd
seemed somewhat at a loss how to begin the interview.
I did not attempt to help him, for his silence
gave me more time for observation. I have found
it wise to impress clients with a sense of power, and
so I gave him some of my conclusions.
"From South Africa, sir, I perceive."
"Yes, sir," he answered, with some surprise.
"Imperial Yeomanry, I fancy."
"Exactly."
"Middlesex Corps, no doubt."
"That is so. Mr. Holmes, you are a wizard."
I smiled at his bewildered expression.
"When a gentleman of virile appearance enters
my room with such tan upon his face as an English
sun could never give, and with his handkerchief in
his sleeve instead of in his pocket, it is not difficult
to place him. You wear a short beard, which
shows that you were not a regular. You have the
cut of a riding-man. As to Middlesex, your card
has already shown me that you are a stockbroker
from Throgmorton Street. What other regiment
would you join?"
"You see everything."
"I see no more than you, but I have trained
myself to notice what I see. However, Mr. Dodd, it
was not to discuss the science of observation that
you called upon me this morning. What has been
happening at Tuxbury Old Park?"
"Mr. Holmes——!"
"My dear sir, there is no mystery. Your letter
came with that heading, and as you fixed this
appointment in very pressing terms it was clear that
something sudden and important had occurred."
"Yes, indeed. But the letter was written in the
afternoon, and a good deal has happened since then.
If Colonel Emsworth had not kicked me out——"
"Kicked you out!"
"Well, that was what it amounted to. He is a
hard nail, is Colonel Emsworth. The greatest
martinet in the Army in his day, and it was a day
of rough language, too. I couldn't have stuck the
Colonel if it had not been for Godfrey's sake."
I lit my pipe and leaned back in my chair.
"Perhaps you will explain what you are talking
about."
My client grinned mischievously.
"I had got into the way of supposing that you
knew everything without being told," said he.
"But I will give you the facts, and I hope to God
that you will be able to tell me what they mean.
I've been awake all night puzzling my brain, and the
more I think the more incredible does it become.
"When I joined up in January, 1901—just two
years ago—young Godfrey Emsworth had joined
the same squadron. He was Colonel Emsworth's
only son—Emsworth, the Crimean V.C.—and he had
the fighting blood in him, so it is no wonder he
volunteered. There was not a finer lad in the
regiment. We formed a friendship—the sort of
friendship which can only be made when one lives the
same life and shares the same joys and sorrows. He
was my mate—and that means a good deal in the
Army. We took the rough and the smooth together
for a year of hard fighting. Then he was hit with a
bullet from an elephant gun in the action near
Diamond Hill outside Pretoria. I got one letter from
the hospital at Cape Town and one from Southampton.
Since then not a word—not one word, Mr. Holmes,
for six months and more, and he my closest pal.
"Well, when the war was over, and we all got
back, I wrote to his father and asked where Godfrey
was. No answer. I waited a bit and then I wrote
again. This time I had a reply, short and gruff.
Godfrey had gone on a voyage round the world, and
it was not likely that he would be back for a year.
That was all.
"I wasn't satisfied, Mr. Holmes. The whole
thing seemed to me so damned unnatural. He was
a good lad and he would not drop a pal like that. It
was not like him. Then, again, I happened to know
that he was heir to a lot of money, and also that his
father and he did not always hit it off too well. The
old man was sometimes a bully, and young Godfrey
had too much spirit to stand it. No, I wasn't
satisfied, and I determined that I would get to the root
of the matter. It happened, however, that my own
affairs needed a lot of straightening out, after two
years' absence, and so it is only this week that I
have been able to take up Godfrey's case again. But
since I have taken it up I mean to drop everything
in order to see it through."
Mr. James M. Dodd appeared to be the sort of
person whom it would be better to have as a friend
than as an enemy. His blue eyes were stern and
his square jaw had set hard as he spoke.
"Well, what have you done?" I asked.
"My first move was to get down to his home, Tuxbury
Old Park, near Bedford, and to see for myself
how the ground lay. I wrote to the mother,
therefore—I had had quite enough of the curmudgeon of a
father—and I made a clean frontal attack: Godfrey
was my chum, I had a great deal of interest which I
might tell her of our common experiences, I should
be in the neighbourhood, would there be any objection,
et cetera? In reply I had quite an amiable
answer from her and an offer to put me up for
the night. That was what took me down on Monday.
"Tuxbury Old Hall is inaccessible—five miles
from anywhere. There was no trap at the station,
so I had to walk, carrying my suit-case, and it was
nearly dark before I arrived. It is a great wandering
house, standing in a considerable park. I should
judge it was of all sorts of ages and styles, starting
on a half-timbered Elizabethan foundation and ending
in a Victorian portico. Inside it was all panelling
and tapestry and half-effaced old pictures, a house
of shadows and mystery. There was a butler, old
Ralph, who seemed about the same age as the house
and there was his wife, who might have been older.
She had been Godfrey's nurse, and I had heard him
speak of her as second only to his mother in his
affections, so I was drawn to her in spite of her queer
appearance. The mother I liked also—a gentle little
white mouse of a woman. It was only the Colonel
himself whom I barred.
"We had a bit of a barney right away, and I
should have walked back to the station if I had not
felt that it might be playing his game for me to do
so. I was shown straight into his study, and there
I found him, a huge, bow-backed man with a smoky
skin and a straggling grey beard, seated behind his
littered desk. A red-veined nose jutted out like a
vulture's beak, and two fierce grey eyes glared at
me from under tufted brows. I could understand
now why Godfrey seldom spoke of his father.
"'Well, sir,' said he in a rasping voice. 'I should
be interested to know the real reasons for this visit.'
"I answered that I had explained them in my
letter to his wife.
"'Yes, yes; you said that you had known Godfrey
in Africa. We have, of course, only your word
for that.'
"'I have his letters to me in my pocket.'
"'Kindly let me see them.'
"He glanced at the two which I handed him, and
then he tossed them back.
"'Well, what then?' he asked.
"'I was fond of your son Godfrey, sir. Many
ties and memories united us. Is it not natural that
I should wonder at his sudden silence and should
wish to know what has become of him?'
"'I have some recollection, sir, that I had already
corresponded with you and had told you what had
become of him. He has gone upon a voyage round
the world. His health was in a poor way after his
African experiences, and both his mother and I were
of opinion that complete rest and change were
needed. Kindly pass that explanation on to any
other friends who may be interested in the matter.'
"'Certainly,' I answered. 'But perhaps you
would have the goodness to let me have the name of
the steamer and of the line by which he sailed,
together with the date. I have no doubt that I should
be able to get a letter through to him.'
"My request seemed both to puzzle and to irritate
my host. His great eyebrows came down over his
eyes and he tapped his fingers impatiently on the
table. He looked up at last with the expression of
one who has seen his adversary make a dangerous
move at chess, and has decided how to meet it.
"'Many people, Mr. Dodd,' said he, 'would take
offence at your infernal pertinacity and would think
that this insistence had reached the point of damned
impertinence.'
"'You must put it down, sir, to my real love for
your son.'
"'Exactly. I have already made every allowance
upon that score. I must ask you, however, to
drop these inquiries. Every family has its own
inner knowledge and its own motives, which cannot
always be made clear to outsiders, however
well-intentioned. My wife is anxious to hear something
of Godfrey's past which you are in a position to tell
her, but I would ask you to let the present and the
future alone. Such inquiries serve no useful
purpose, sir, and place us in a delicate and difficult
position.'
"So I came to a dead end, Mr. Holmes. There
was no getting past it. I could only pretend to
accept the situation and register a vow inwardly that
I would never rest until my friend's fate had been
cleared up. It was a dull evening. We dined
quietly, the three of us, in a gloomy, faded old room.
The lady questioned me eagerly about her son, but
the old man seemed morose and depressed. I was
so bored by the whole proceeding that I made an
excuse as soon as I decently could and retired to my
bedroom. It was a large, bare room on the ground
floor, as gloomy as the rest of the house, but after a
year of sleeping upon the veldt, Mr. Holmes, one is
not too particular about one's quarters. I opened
the curtains and looked out into the garden, remarking
that it was a fine night with a bright half-moon.
Then I sat down by the roaring fire with the lamp on
a table beside me, and endeavoured to distract my
mind with a novel. I was interrupted, however, by
Ralph, the old butler, who came in with a fresh
supply of coals.
"'I thought you might run short in the night-time,
sir. It is bitter weather and these rooms are
cold.'
"He hesitated before leaving the room, and when
I looked round he was standing facing me with a
wistful look upon his wrinkled face.
"'Beg your pardon, sir, but I could not help
hearing what you said of young Master Godfrey at
dinner. You know, sir, that my wife nursed him,
and so I may say I am his foster-father. It's natural
we should take an interest. And you say he carried
himself well, sir?'
"'There was no braver man in the regiment. He
pulled me out once from under the rifles of the Boers,
or maybe I should not be here.'
"The old butler rubbed his skinny hands.
"'Yes, sir, yes, that is Master Godfrey all over.
He was always courageous. There's not a tree in
the park, sir, that he has not climbed. Nothing
would stop him. He was a fine boy—and oh, sir, he
was a fine man.'
"I sprang to my feet.
"'Look here!' I cried. 'You say he was. You
speak as if he were dead. What is all this mystery?
What has become of Godfrey Emsworth?'
"I gripped the old man by the shoulder, but he
shrank away.
"'I don't know what you mean, sir. Ask the
master about Master Godfrey. He knows. It is
not for me to interfere.'
"He was leaving the room, but I held his arm.
"'Listen,' I said. 'You are going to answer one
question before you leave if I have to hold you all
night. Is Godfrey dead?'
"He could not face my eyes. He was like a man
hypnotized. The answer was dragged from his lips.
It was a terrible and unexpected one.
"'I wish to God he was!' he cried, and, tearing
himself free, he dashed from the room.
"You will think, Mr. Holmes, that I returned to
my chair in no very happy state of mind. The old
man's words seemed to me to bear only one
interpretation. Clearly my poor friend had become
involved in some criminal, or, at the least, disreputable,
transaction which touched the family honour.
That stern old man had sent his son away and hidden
him from the world lest some scandal should come
to light. Godfrey was a reckless fellow. He was
easily influenced by those around him. No doubt
he had fallen into bad hands and been misled to his
ruin. It was a piteous business, if it was indeed so,
but even now it was my duty to hunt him out and
see if I could aid him. I was anxiously pondering
the matter when I looked up, and there was Godfrey
Emsworth standing before me."
My client had paused as one in deep emotion.
"Pray continue," I said. "Your problem presents
some very unusual features."
"He was outside the window, Mr. Holmes, with
his face pressed against the glass. I have told you
that I looked out at the night. When I did so, I
left the curtains partly open. His figure was framed
in this gap. The window came down to the ground
and I could see the whole length of it, but it was his
face which held my gaze. He was deadly pale—never
have I seen a man so white. I reckon ghosts
may look like that; but his eyes met mine, and they
were the eyes of a living man. He sprang back when
he saw that I was looking at him, and he vanished
into the darkness.
"There was something shocking about the man,
Mr. Holmes. It wasn't merely that ghastly face
glimmering as white as cheese in the darkness. It
was more subtle than that—something slinking,
something furtive, something guilty—something
very unlike the frank, manly lad that I had known.
It left a feeling of horror in my mind.
"But when a man has been soldiering for a year
or two with brother Boer as a playmate, he keeps
his nerve and acts quickly. Godfrey had hardly
vanished before I was at the window. There was
an awkward catch, and I was some little time before
I could throw it up. Then I nipped through and
ran down the garden path in the direction that I
thought he might have taken.
"It was a long path and the light was not very
good but it seemed to me something was moving
ahead of me. I ran on and called his name, but it
was no use. When I got to the end of the path
there were several others branching in different
directions to various outhouses. I stood hesitating,
and as I did so I heard distinctly the sound of a
closing door. It was not behind me in the house, but
ahead of me, somewhere in the darkness. That was
enough, Mr. Holmes, to assure me that what I had
seen was not a vision. Godfrey had run away from
me and he had shut a door behind him. Of that I
was certain.
"There was nothing more I could do, and I spent
an uneasy night turning the matter over in my mind
and trying to find some theory which would cover the
facts. Next day I found the Colonel rather more
conciliatory, and as his wife remarked that there
were some places of interest in the neighbourhood,
it gave me an opening to ask whether my presence
for one more night would incommode them. A
somewhat grudging acquiescence from the old man
gave me a clear day in which to make my observations.
I was already perfectly convinced that Godfrey
was in hiding somewhere near, but where and
why remained to be solved.
"The house was so large and so rambling that a
regiment might be hid away in it and no one the
wiser. If the secret lay there, it was difficult for me
to penetrate it. But the door which I had heard
close was certainly not in the house. I must explore
the garden and see what I could find. There was
no difficulty in the way, for the old people were
busy in their own fashion and left me to my own
devices.
"There were several small outhouses, but at the
end of the garden there was a detached building of
some size—large enough for a gardener's or a
gamekeeper's residence. Could this be the place whence
the sound of that shutting door had come? I
approached it in a careless fashion, as though I were
strolling aimlessly round the grounds. As I did so,
a small, brisk, bearded man in a black coat and
bowler hat—not at all the gardener type—came out
of the door. To my surprise, he locked it after him
and put the key in his pocket. Then he looked at
me with some surprise on his face.
"'Are you a visitor here?' he asked.
"I explained that I was and that I was a friend
of Godfrey's.
"'What a pity that he should be away on his
travels, for he would have so liked to see me,' I
continued.
"'Quite so. Exactly,' said he, with a rather
guilty air. 'No doubt you will renew your visit at
some more propitious time.' He passed on, but
when I turned I observed that he was standing
watching me, half-concealed by the laurels at the
far end of the garden.
"I had a good look at the little house as I passed
it, but the windows were heavily curtained, and, so
far as one could see, it was empty. I might spoil
my own game, and even be ordered off the premises,
if I were too audacious, for I was still conscious that
I was being watched. Therefore, I strolled back to
the house and waited for night before I went on with
my inquiry. When all was dark and quiet, I slipped
out of my window and made my way as silently as
possible to the mysterious lodge.
"I have said that it was heavily curtained, but
now I found that the windows were shuttered as well.
Some light, however, was breaking through one of
them, so I concentrated my attention upon this. I
was in luck, for the curtain had not been quite closed,
and there was a crack in the shutter so that I could
see the inside of the room. It was a cheery place
enough, a bright lamp and a blazing fire. Opposite
to me was seated the little man whom I had seen in
the morning. He was smoking a pipe and reading a
paper."
"What paper?" I asked.
My client seemed annoyed at the interruption of
his narrative.
"Can it matter?" he asked.
"It is most essential."
"I really took no notice."
"Possibly you observed whether it was a
broad-leafed paper or of that smaller type which one
associates with weeklies."
"Now that you mention it, it was not large. It
might have been The Spectator. However, I had
little thought to spare upon such details, for a second
man was seated with his back to the window, and I
could swear that this second man was Godfrey. I
could not see his face, but I knew the familiar slope
of his shoulders. He was leaning upon his elbow in
an attitude of great melancholy, his body turned
towards the fire. I was hesitating as to what I
should do when there was a sharp tap on my
shoulder, and there was Colonel Emsworth beside me.
"'This way, sir!' said he in a low voice. He
walked in silence to the house and I followed him
into my own bedroom. He had picked up a
timetable in the hall.
"'There is a train to London at eight-thirty,' said
he. 'The trap will be at the door at eight.'
"He was white with rage, and, indeed, I felt myself
in so difficult a position that I could only stammer
out a few incoherent apologies, in which I tried
to excuse myself by urging my anxiety for my friend.
"'The matter will not bear discussion,' said he
abruptly. 'You have made a most damnable intrusion
into the privacy of our family. You were here
as a guest and you have become a spy. I have
nothing more to say, sir, save that I have no wish
ever to see you again.'
"At this I lost my temper, Mr. Holmes, and I
spoke with some warmth.
"'I have seen your son, and I am convinced that
for some reason of your own you are concealing him
from the world. I have no idea what your motives
are in cutting him off in this fashion, but I am sure
that he is no longer a free agent. I warn you,
Colonel Emsworth, that until I am assured as to the
safety and well-being of my friend I shall never
desist in my efforts to get to the bottom of the
mystery, and I shall certainly not allow myself to be
intimidated by anything which you may say or do.'
"The old fellow looked diabolical, and I really
thought he was about to attack me. I have said
that he was a gaunt, fierce old giant, and though I
am no weakling I might have been hard put to it to
hold my own against him. However, after a long
glare of rage he turned upon his heel and walked out
of the room. For my part, I took the appointed
train in the morning, with the full intention of
coming straight to you and asking for your advice and
assistance at the appointment for which I had
already written."
Such was the problem which my visitor laid before
me. It presented, as the astute reader will have
already perceived, few difficulties in its solution, for
a very limited choice of alternatives must get to the
root of the matter. Still, elementary as it was,
there were points of interest and novelty about it
which may excuse my placing it upon record. I now
proceeded, using my familiar method of logical
analysis, to narrow down the possible solutions.
"The servants," I asked; "how many were in
the house?"
"To the best of my belief there were only the old
butler and his wife. They seemed to live in the
simplest fashion."
"There was no servant, then, in the detached
house?"
"None, unless the little man with the beard acted
as such. He seemed, however, to be quite a superior
person."
"That seems very suggestive. Had you any indication
that food was conveyed from the one house
to the other?"
"Now that you mention it, I did see old Ralph
carrying a basket down the garden walk and going
in the direction of this house. The idea of food did
not occur to me at the moment."
"Did you make any local inquiries?"
"Yes, I did. I spoke to the station-master and
also to the innkeeper in the village. I simply asked
if they knew anything of my old comrade, Godfrey
Emsworth. Both of them assured me that he had
gone for a voyage round the world. He had come
home and then had almost at once started off again.
The story was evidently universally accepted."
"You said nothing of your suspicions?"
"Nothing."
"That was very wise. The matter should certainly
be inquired into. I will go back with you to
Tuxbury Old Park."
"To-day?"
It happened that at the moment I was clearing
up the case which my friend Watson has described
as that of the Abbey School, in which the Duke of
Greyminster was so deeply involved. I had also a
commission from the Sultan of Turkey which called
for immediate action, as political consequences of
the gravest kind might arise from its neglect.
Therefore it was not until the beginning of the next week,
as my diary records, that I was able to start forth
on my mission to Bedfordshire in company with
Mr. James M. Dodd. As we drove to Euston we picked
up a grave and taciturn gentleman of iron-grey
aspect, with whom I had made the necessary
arrangements.
"This is an old friend," said I to Dodd. "It is
possible that his presence may be entirely unnecessary,
and, on the other hand, it may be essential.
It is not necessary at the present stage to go further
into the matter."
The narratives of Watson have accustomed the
reader, no doubt, to the fact that I do not waste
words or disclose my thoughts while a case is actually
under consideration. Dodd seemed surprised, but
nothing more was said and the three of us continued
our journey together. In the train I asked Dodd
one more question which I wished our companion to
hear.
"You say that you saw your friend's face quite
clearly at the window, so clearly that you are sure
of his identity?"
"I have no doubt about it whatever. His nose
was pressed against the glass. The lamplight shone
full upon him."
"It could not have been someone resembling him?"
"No, no; it was he."
"But you say he was changed?"
"Only in colour. His face was—how shall I
describe it?—it was of a fish-belly whiteness. It
was bleached."
"Was it equally pale all over?"
"I think not. It was his brow which I saw so
clearly as it was pressed against the window."
"Did you call to him?"
"I was too startled and horrified for the moment.
Then I pursued him, as I have told you, but without
result."
My case was practically complete, and there was
only one small incident needed to round it off.
When, after a considerable drive, we arrived at the
strange old rambling house which my client had
described, it was Ralph, the elderly butler, who
opened the door. I had requisitioned the carriage
for the day and had asked my elderly friend to
remain within it unless we should summon him.
Ralph, a little wrinkled old fellow, was in the
conventional costume of black coat and pepper-and-salt
trousers, with only one curious variant. He wore
brown leather gloves, which at sight of us he
instantly shuffled off, laying them down on the
hall-table as we passed in. I have, as my friend Watson
may have remarked, an abnormally acute set of
senses, and a faint but incisive scent was apparent.
It seemed to centre on the hall-table. I turned,
placed my hat there, knocked it off, stooped to pick
it up, and contrived to bring my nose within a foot
of the gloves. Yes, it was undoubtedly from them
that the curious tarry odour was oozing. I passed
on into the study with my case complete. Alas,
that I should have to show my hand so when I tell
my own story! It was by concealing such links in
the chain that Watson was enabled to produce his
meretricious finales.
Colonel Emsworth was not in his room, but he
came quickly enough on receipt of Ralph's message.
We heard his quick, heavy step in the passage. The
door was flung open and he rushed in with bristling
beard and twisted features, as terrible an old man as
ever I have seen. He held our cards in his hand, and
he tore them up and stamped on the fragments.
"Have I not told you, you infernal busybody, that
you are warned off the premises? Never dare to
show your damned face here again. If you enter
again without my leave I shall be within my rights
if I use violence. I'll shoot you, sir! By God, I
will! As to you, sir," turning upon me, "I extend
the same warning to you. I am familiar with your
ignoble profession, but you must take your reputed
talents to some other field. There is no opening
for them here."
"I cannot leave here," said my client firmly,
"until I hear from Godfrey's own lips that he is
under no restraint."
Our involuntary host rang the bell.
"Ralph," he said, "telephone down to the county
police and ask the inspector to send up two
constables. Tell him there are burglars in the house."
"One moment," said I. "You must be aware,
Mr. Dodd, that Colonel Emsworth is within his rights
and that we have no legal status within his house.
On the other hand, he should recognize that your
action is prompted entirely by solicitude for his son.
I venture to hope that, if I were allowed to have five
minutes' conversation with Colonel Emsworth, I
could certainly alter his view of the matter."
"I am not so easily altered," said the old soldier.
"Ralph, do what I have told you. What the devil
are you waiting for? Ring up the police!"
"Nothing of the sort," I said, putting my back
to the door. "Any police interference would bring
about the very catastrophe which you dread." I
took out my notebook and scribbled one word upon
a loose sheet. "That," said I, as I handed it to
Colonel Emsworth, "is what has brought us here."
He stared at the writing with a face from which
every expression save amazement had vanished.
"How do you know?" he gasped, sitting down
heavily in his chair.
"It is my business to know things. That is my
trade."
He sat in deep thought, his gaunt hand tugging at
his straggling beard. Then he made a gesture of
resignation.
"Well, if you wish to see Godfrey, you shall. It
is no doing of mine, but you have forced my hand.
Ralph, tell Mr. Godfrey and Mr. Kent that in five
minutes we shall be with them."
At the end of that time we passed down the garden
path and found ourselves in front of the mystery
house at the end. A small bearded man stood at the
door with a look of considerable astonishment upon
his face.
"This is very sudden, Colonel Emsworth," said
he. "This will disarrange all our plans."
"I can't help it, Mr. Kent. Our hands have been
forced. Can Mr. Godfrey see us?"
"Yes; he is waiting inside." He turned and
led us into a large, plainly furnished front room. A
man was standing with his back to the fire, and at
the sight of him my client sprang forward with
outstretched hand.
"Why, Godfrey, old man, this is fine!"
But the other waved him back.
"Don't touch me, Jimmie. Keep your distance.
Yes, you may well stare! I don't quite look the
smart Lance-Corporal Emsworth, of B Squadron,
do I?"
His appearance was certainly extraordinary.
One could see that he had indeed been a handsome
man with clear-cut features sunburned by an African
sun, but mottled in patches over this darker surface
were curious whitish patches which had bleached his
skin.
"That's why I don't court visitors," said he. "I
don't mind you, Jimmie, but I could have done
without your friend. I suppose there is some good
reason for it, but you have me at a disadvantage."
"I wanted to be sure that all was well with you,
Godfrey. I saw you that night when you looked
into my window, and I could not let the matter rest
till I had cleared things up."
"Old Ralph told me you were there, and I couldn't
help taking a peep at you. I hoped you would not
have seen me, and I had to run to my burrow when
I heard the window go up."
"But what in Heaven's name is the matter?"
"Well, it's not a long story to tell," said he,
lighting a cigarette. "You remember that morning
fight at Buffelsspruit, outside Pretoria, on the
Eastern railway line? You heard I was hit?"
"Yes, I heard that, but I never got particulars."
"Three of us got separated from the others. It
was very broken country, you may remember.
There was Simpson—the fellow we called Baldy
Simpson—and Anderson, and I. We were clearing
brother Boer, but he lay low and got the three of us.
The other two were killed. I got an elephant bullet
through my shoulder. I stuck on to my horse, however,
and he galloped several miles before I fainted
and rolled off the saddle.
"When I came to myself it was nightfall, and I
raised myself up, feeling very weak and ill. To my
surprise there was a house close beside me, a fairly
large house with a broad stoep and many windows.
It was deadly cold. You remember the kind of
numb cold which used to come at evening, a deadly,
sickening sort of cold, very different from a crisp
healthy frost. Well, I was chilled to the bone, and
my only hope seemed to lie in reaching that house.
I staggered to my feet and dragged myself along,
hardly conscious of what I did. I have a dim
memory of slowly ascending the steps, entering a
wide-opened door, passing into a large room which
contained several beds, and throwing myself down
with a gasp of satisfaction upon one of them. It
was unmade, but that troubled me not at all. I
drew the clothes over my shivering body and in a
moment I was in a deep sleep.
"It was morning when I wakened, and it seemed
to me that instead of coming out into a world of
sanity I had emerged into some extraordinary
nightmare. The African sun flooded through the big,
curtainless windows, and every detail of the great,
bare, whitewashed dormitory stood out hard and
clear. In front of me was standing a small,
dwarf-like man with a huge, bulbous head, who was
jabbering excitedly in Dutch, waving two horrible hands
which looked to me like brown sponges. Behind him
stood a group of people who seemed to be intensely
amused by the situation, but a chill came over me as
I looked at them. Not one of them was a normal
human being. Every one was twisted or swollen or
disfigured in some strange way. The laughter of
these strange monstrosities was a dreadful thing to
hear.
"It seemed that none of them could speak English,
but the situation wanted clearing up, for the
creature with the big head was growing furiously
angry and, uttering wild beast cries, he had laid his
deformed hands upon me and was dragging me out
of bed, regardless of the fresh flow of blood from my
wound. The little monster was as strong as a bull,
and I don't know what he might have done to me
had not an elderly man who was clearly in authority
been attracted to the room by the hubbub. He
said a few stern words in Dutch and my persecutor
shrank away. Then he turned upon me, gazing at
me in the utmost amazement.
"'How in the world did you come here?' he
asked, in amazement. 'Wait a bit! I see that
you are tired out and that wounded shoulder of yours
wants looking after. I am a doctor, and I'll soon
have you tied up. But, man alive! you are in far
greater danger here than ever you were on the
battlefield. You are in the Leper Hospital, and you have
slept in a leper's bed.'
"Need I tell you more, Jimmie? It seems that
in view of the approaching battle all these poor
creatures had been evacuated the day before. Then,
as the British advanced, they had been brought back
by this, their medical superintendent, who assured
me that, though he believed he was immune to the
disease, he would none the less never have dared to
do what I had done. He put me in a private room,
treated me kindly, and within a week or so I was
removed to the general hospital at Pretoria.
"So there you have my tragedy. I hoped against
hope, but it was not until I had reached home that
the terrible signs which you see upon my face told me
that I had not escaped. What was I to do? I was
in this lonely house. We had two servants whom we
could utterly trust. There was a house where I
could live. Under pledge of secrecy, Mr. Kent, who
is a surgeon, was prepared to stay with me. It
seemed simple enough on those lines. The
alternative was a dreadful one—segregation for life
among strangers with never a hope of release. But
absolute secrecy was necessary, or even in this quiet
country-side there would have been an outcry, and I
should have been dragged to my horrible doom.
Even you, Jimmie—even you had to be kept in the
dark. Why my father has relented I cannot
imagine."
Colonel Emsworth pointed to me.
"This is the gentleman who forced my hand." He
unfolded the scrap of paper on which I had
written the word "Leprosy." "It seemed to me that
if he knew so much as that it was safer that he should
know all."
"And so it was," said I. "Who knows but good
may come of it? I understand that only Mr. Kent
has seen the patient. May I ask, sir, if you are an
authority on such complaints, which are, I understand,
tropical or semi-tropical in their nature?"
"I have the ordinary knowledge of the educated
medical man," he observed, with some stiffness.
"I have no doubt, sir, that you are fully
competent, but I am sure that you will agree that in
such a case a second opinion is valuable. You have
avoided this, I understand, for fear that pressure
should be put upon you to segregate the patient."
"That is so," said Colonel Emsworth.
"I foresaw this situation," I explained, "and I
have brought with me a friend whose discretion may
absolutely be trusted. I was able once to do him a
professional service, and he is ready to advise as a
friend rather than as a specialist. His name is Sir
James Saunders."
The prospect of an interview with Lord Roberts
would not have excited greater wonder and pleasure
in a raw subaltern than was now reflected upon the
face of Mr. Kent.
"I shall indeed be proud," he murmured.
"Then I will ask Sir James to step this way. He
is at present in the carriage outside the door.
Meanwhile, Colonel Emsworth, we may perhaps assemble
in your study, where I could give the necessary
explanations."
And here it is that I miss my Watson. By cunning
questions and ejaculations of wonder he could
elevate my simple art, which is but systematized
common sense, into a prodigy. When I tell my own
story I have no such aid. And yet I will give my
process of thought even as I gave it to my small
audience, which included Godfrey's mother, in the
study of Colonel Emsworth.
"That process," said I, "starts upon the supposition
that when you have eliminated all which is
impossible, then whatever remains however improbable,
must be the truth. It may well be that several
explanations remain, in which case one tries test after
test until one or other of them has a convincing
amount of support. We will now apply this principle
to the case in point. As it was first presented
to me, there were three possible explanations of the
seclusion or incarceration of this gentleman in an
outhouse of his father's mansion. There was the
explanation that he was in hiding for a crime, or
that he was mad and that they wished to avoid an
asylum, or that he had some disease which caused
his segregation. I could think of no other adequate
solutions. These, then, had to be sifted and
balanced against each other.
"The criminal solution would not bear inspection.
No unsolved crime had been reported from that
district. I was sure of that. If it were some crime
not yet discovered, then clearly it would be to the
interest of the family to get rid of the delinquent and
send him abroad rather than keep him concealed at
home. I could see no explanation for such a line of
conduct.
"Insanity was more plausible. The presence of
the second person in the outhouse suggested a keeper.
The fact that he locked the door when he came out
strengthened the supposition and gave the idea of
constraint. On the other hand, this constraint could
not be severe or the young man could not have got
loose and come down to have a look at his friend.
You will remember, Mr. Dodd, that I felt round for
points, asking you, for example, about the paper
which Mr. Kent was reading. Had it been The
Lancet or The British Medical Journal it would have
helped me. It is not illegal, however, to keep a
lunatic upon private premises so long as there is a
qualified person in attendance and that the authorities
have been duly notified. Why, then, all this
desperate desire for secrecy? Once again I could
not get the theory to fit the facts.
"There remained the third possibility, into which,
rare and unlikely as it was, everything seemed to fit.
Leprosy is not uncommon in South Africa. By
some extraordinary chance this youth might have
contracted it. His people would be placed in a very
dreadful position, since they would desire to save
him from segregation. Great secrecy would be
needed to prevent rumours from getting about and
subsequent interference by the authorities. A
devoted medical man, if sufficiently paid, would
easily be found to take charge of the sufferer. There
would be no reason why the latter should not be
allowed freedom after dark. Bleaching of the skin
is a common result of the disease. The case was a
strong one—so strong that I determined to act as if
it were actually proved. When on arriving here I
noticed that Ralph, who carries out the meals, had
gloves which are impregnated with disinfectants, my
last doubts were removed. A single word showed
you, sir, that your secret was discovered, and if I
wrote rather than said it, it was to prove to you that
my discretion was to be trusted."
I was finishing this little analysis of the case when
the door was opened and the austere figure of the
great dermatologist was ushered in. But for once
his sphinx-like features had relaxed and there was a
warm humanity in his eyes. He strode up to Colonel
Emsworth and shook him by the hand.
"It is often my lot to bring ill-tidings, and seldom
good," said he. "This occasion is the more
welcome. It is not leprosy."
"What?"
"A well-marked case of pseudo-leprosy or ichthyosis,
a scale-like affection of the skin, unsightly,
obstinate, but possibly curable, and certainly
non-infective. Yes, Mr. Holmes, the coincidence is a
remarkable one. But is it coincidence? Are there
not subtle forces at work of which we know little?
Are we assured that the apprehension, from which
this young man has no doubt suffered terribly since
his exposure to its contagion, may not produce a
physical effect which simulates that which it fears?
At any rate, I pledge my professional reputation—— But
the lady has fainted! I think that Mr. Kent
had better be with her until she recovers from
this joyous shock."