Chapter 5
The People Of the Drama
"Have you seen all you want of the study?" asked White Mason as wereentered the house.
"For the time," said the inspector, and Holmes nodded.
"Then perhaps you would now like to hear the evidence of some of thepeople in the house. We could use the dining-room, Ames. Please comeyourself first and tell us what you know."
The butler's account was a simple and a clear one, and he gave aconvincing impression of sincerity. He had been engaged five yearsbefore, when Douglas first came to Birlstone. He understood that Mr.Douglas was a rich gentleman who had made his money in America. He hadbeen a kind and considerate employer--not quite what Ames was used to,perhaps; but one can't have everything. He never saw any signs ofapprehension in Mr. Douglas: on the contrary, he was the most fearlessman he had ever known. He ordered the drawbridge to be pulled up everynight because it was the ancient custom of the old house, and he likedto keep the old ways up.
Mr. Douglas seldom went to London or left the village; but on the daybefore the crime he had been shopping at Tunbridge Wells. He (Ames) hadobserved some restlessness and excitement on the part of Mr. Douglasthat day; for he had seemed impatient and irritable, which was unusualwith him. He had not gone to bed that night; but was in the pantry atthe back of the house, putting away the silver, when he heard the bellring violently. He heard no shot; but it was hardly possible he would,as the pantry and kitchens were at the very back of the house and therewere several closed doors and a long passage between. The housekeeperhad come out of her room, attracted by the violent ringing of the bell.They had gone to the front of the house together.
As they reached the bottom of the stair he had seen Mrs. Douglas comingdown it. No, she was not hurrying; it did not seem to him that she wasparticularly agitated. Just as she reached the bottom of the stair Mr.Barker had rushed out of the study. He had stopped Mrs. Douglas andbegged her to go back.
"For God's sake, go back to your room!" he cried. "Poor Jack is dead!You can do nothing. For God's sake, go back!"
After some persuasion upon the stairs Mrs. Douglas had gone back. Shedid not scream. She made no outcry whatever. Mrs. Allen, thehousekeeper, had taken her upstairs and stayed with her in the bedroom.Ames and Mr. Barker had then returned to the study, where they hadfound everything exactly as the police had seen it. The candle was notlit at that time; but the lamp was burning. They had looked out of thewindow; but the night was very dark and nothing could be seen or heard.They had then rushed out into the hall, where Ames had turned thewindlass which lowered the drawbridge. Mr. Barker had then hurried offto get the police.
Such, in its essentials, was the evidence of the butler.
The account of Mrs. Allen, the housekeeper, was, so far as it went, acorroboration of that of her fellow servant. The housekeeper's room wasrather nearer to the front of the house than the pantry in which Ameshad been working. She was preparing to go to bed when the loud ringingof the bell had attracted her attention. She was a little hard ofhearing. Perhaps that was why she had not heard the shot; but in anycase the study was a long way off. She remembered hearing some soundwhich she imagined to be the slamming of a door. That was a good dealearlier--half an hour at least before the ringing of the bell. When Mr.Ames ran to the front she went with him. She saw Mr. Barker, very paleand excited, come out of the study. He intercepted Mrs. Douglas, whowas coming down the stairs. He entreated her to go back, and sheanswered him, but what she said could not be heard.
"Take her up! Stay with her!" he had said to Mrs. Allen.
She had therefore taken her to the bedroom, and endeavoured to sootheher. She was greatly excited, trembling all over, but made no otherattempt to go downstairs. She just sat in her dressing gown by herbedroom fire, with her head sunk in her hands. Mrs. Allen stayed withher most of the night. As to the other servants, they had all gone tobed, and the alarm did not reach them until just before the policearrived. They slept at the extreme back of the house, and could notpossibly have heard anything.
So far the housekeeper could add nothing on cross-examination savelamentations and expressions of amazement.
Cecil Barker succeeded Mrs. Allen as a witness. As to the occurrencesof the night before, he had very little to add to what he had alreadytold the police. Personally, he was convinced that the murderer hadescaped by the window. The bloodstain was conclusive, in his opinion,on that point. Besides, as the bridge was up, there was no otherpossible way of escaping. He could not explain what had become of theassassin or why he had not taken his bicycle, if it were indeed his. Hecould not possibly have been drowned in the moat, which was at no placemore than three feet deep.
In his own mind he had a very definite theory about the murder. Douglaswas a reticent man, and there were some chapters in his life of whichhe never spoke. He had emigrated to America when he was a very youngman. He had prospered well, and Barker had first met him in California,where they had become partners in a successful mining claim at a placecalled Benito Canyon. They had done very well; but Douglas had suddenlysold out and started for England. He was a widower at that time. Barkerhad afterwards realized his money and come to live in London. Thus theyhad renewed their friendship.
Douglas had given him the impression that some danger was hanging overhis head, and he had always looked upon his sudden departure fromCalifornia, and also his renting a house in so quiet a place inEngland, as being connected with this peril. He imagined that somesecret society, some implacable organization, was on Douglas's track,which would never rest until it killed him. Some remarks of his hadgiven him this idea; though he had never told him what the society was,nor how he had come to offend it. He could only suppose that the legendupon the placard had some reference to this secret society.
"How long were you with Douglas in California?" asked InspectorMacDonald.
"Five years altogether."
"He was a bachelor, you say?"
"A widower."
"Have you ever heard where his first wife came from?"
"No, I remember his saying that she was of German extraction, and Ihave seen her portrait. She was a very beautiful woman. She died oftyphoid the year before I met him."
"You don't associate his past with any particular part of America?"
"I have heard him talk of Chicago. He knew that city well and hadworked there. I have heard him talk of the coal and iron districts. Hehad travelled a good deal in his time."
"Was he a politician? Had this secret society to do with politics?"
"No, he cared nothing about politics."
"You have no reason to think it was criminal?"
"On the contrary, I never met a straighter man in my life."
"Was there anything curious about his life in California?"
"He liked best to stay and to work at our claim in the mountains. Hewould never go where other men were if he could help it. That's why Ifirst thought that someone was after him. Then when he left so suddenlyfor Europe I made sure that it was so. I believe that he had a warningof some sort. Within a week of his leaving half a dozen men wereinquiring for him."
"What sort of men?"
"Well, they were a mighty hard-looking crowd. They came up to the claimand wanted to know where he was. I told them that he was gone to Europeand that I did not know where to find him. They meant him no good--itwas easy to see that."
"Were these men Americans--Californians?"
"Well, I don't know about Californians. They were Americans, all right.But they were not miners. I don't know what they were, and was veryglad to see their backs."
"That was six years ago?"
"Nearer seven."
"And then you were together five years in California, so that thisbusiness dates back not less than eleven years at the least?"
"That is so."
"It must be a very serious feud that would be kept up with suchearnestness for as long as that. It would be no light thing that wouldgive rise to it."
"I t
hink it shadowed his whole life. It was never quite out of hismind."
"But if a man had a danger hanging over him, and knew what it was,don't you think he would turn to the police for protection?"
"Maybe it was some danger that he could not be protected against.There's one thing you should know. He always went about armed. Hisrevolver was never out of his pocket. But, by bad luck, he was in hisdressing gown and had left it in the bedroom last night. Once thebridge was up, I guess he thought he was safe."
"I should like these dates a little clearer," said MacDonald. "It isquite six years since Douglas left California. You followed him nextyear, did you not?"
"That is so."
"And he had been married five years. You must have returned about thetime of his marriage."
"About a month before. I was his best man."
"Did you know Mrs. Douglas before her marriage?"
"No, I did not. I had been away from England for ten years."
"But you have seen a good deal of her since."
Barker looked sternly at the detective. "I have seen a good deal of himsince," he answered. "If I have seen her, it is because you cannotvisit a man without knowing his wife. If you imagine there is anyconnection--"
"I imagine nothing, Mr. Barker. I am bound to make every inquiry whichcan bear upon the case. But I mean no offense."
"Some inquiries are offensive," Barker answered angrily.
"It's only the facts that we want. It is in your interest andeveryone's interest that they should be cleared up. Did Mr. Douglasentirely approve your friendship with his wife?"
Barker grew paler, and his great, strong hands were claspedconvulsively together. "You have no right to ask such questions!" hecried. "What has this to do with the matter you are investigating?"
"I must repeat the question."
"Well, I refuse to answer."
"You can refuse to answer; but you must be aware that your refusal isin itself an answer, for you would not refuse if you had not somethingto conceal."
Barker stood for a moment with his face set grimly and his strong blackeyebrows drawn low in intense thought. Then he looked up with a smile."Well, I guess you gentlemen are only doing your clear duty after all,and I have no right to stand in the way of it. I'd only ask you not toworry Mrs. Douglas over this matter; for she has enough upon her justnow. I may tell you that poor Douglas had just one fault in the world,and that was his jealousy. He was fond of me--no man could be fonder ofa friend. And he was devoted to his wife. He loved me to come here, andwas forever sending for me. And yet if his wife and I talked togetheror there seemed any sympathy between us, a kind of wave of jealousywould pass over him, and he would be off the handle and saying thewildest things in a moment. More than once I've sworn off coming forthat reason, and then he would write me such penitent, imploringletters that I just had to. But you can take it from me, gentlemen, ifit was my last word, that no man ever had a more loving, faithfulwife--and I can say also no friend could be more loyal than I!"
It was spoken with fervour and feeling, and yet Inspector MacDonaldcould not dismiss the subject.
"You are aware," said he, "that the dead man's wedding ring has beentaken from his finger?"
"So it appears," said Barker.
"What do you mean by 'appears'? You know it as a fact."
The man seemed confused and undecided. "When I said 'appears' I meantthat it was conceivable that he had himself taken off the ring."
"The mere fact that the ring should be absent, whoever may have removedit, would suggest to anyone's mind, would it not, that the marriage andthe tragedy were connected?"
Barker shrugged his broad shoulders. "I can't profess to say what itmeans." he answered. "But if you mean to hint that it could reflect inany way upon this lady's honour"--his eyes blazed for an instant, andthen with an evident effort he got a grip upon his own emotions--"well,you are on the wrong track, that's all."
"I don't know that I've anything else to ask you at present," saidMacDonald, coldly.
"There was one small point," remarked Sherlock Holmes. "When youentered the room there was only a candle lighted on the table, wasthere not?"
"Yes, that was so."
"By its light you saw that some terrible incident had occurred?"
"Exactly."
"You at once rang for help?"
"Yes."
"And it arrived very speedily?"
"Within a minute or so."
"And yet when they arrived they found that the candle was out and thatthe lamp had been lighted. That seems very remarkable."
Again Barker showed some signs of indecision. "I don't see that it wasremarkable, Mr. Holmes," he answered after a pause. "The candle threw avery bad light. My first thought was to get a better one. The lamp wason the table; so I lit it."
"And blew out the candle?"
"Exactly."
Holmes asked no further question, and Barker, with a deliberate lookfrom one to the other of us, which had, as it seemed to me, somethingof defiance in it, turned and left the room.
Inspector MacDonald had sent up a note to the effect that he would waitupon Mrs. Douglas in her room; but she had replied that she would meetus in the dining room. She entered now, a tall and beautiful woman ofthirty, reserved and self-possessed to a remarkable degree, verydifferent from the tragic and distracted figure I had pictured. It istrue that her face was pale and drawn, like that of one who has endureda great shock; but her manner was composed, and the finely moulded handwhich she rested upon the edge of the table was as steady as my own.Her sad, appealing eyes travelled from one to the other of us with acuriously inquisitive expression. That questioning gaze transformeditself suddenly into abrupt speech.
"Have you found anything out yet?" she asked.
Was it my imagination that there was an undertone of fear rather thanof hope in the question?
"We have taken every possible step, Mrs. Douglas," said the inspector."You may rest assured that nothing will be neglected."
"Spare no money," she said in a dead, even tone. "It is my desire thatevery possible effort should be made."
"Perhaps you can tell us something which may throw some light upon thematter."
"I fear not; but all I know is at your service."
"We have heard from Mr. Cecil Barker that you did not actuallysee--that you were never in the room where the tragedy occurred?"
"No, he turned me back upon the stairs. He begged me to return to myroom."
"Quite so. You had heard the shot, and you had at once come down."
"I put on my dressing gown and then came down."
"How long was it after hearing the shot that you were stopped on thestair by Mr. Barker?"
"It may have been a couple of minutes. It is so hard to reckon time atsuch a moment. He implored me not to go on. He assured me that I coulddo nothing. Then Mrs. Allen, the housekeeper, led me upstairs again. Itwas all like some dreadful dream."
"Can you give us any idea how long your husband had been downstairsbefore you heard the shot?"
"No, I cannot say. He went from his dressing room, and I did not hearhim go. He did the round of the house every night, for he was nervousof fire. It is the only thing that I have ever known him nervous of."
"That is just the point which I want to come to, Mrs. Douglas. You haveknown your husband only in England, have you not?"
"Yes, we have been married five years."
"Have you heard him speak of anything which occurred in America andmight bring some danger upon him?"
Mrs. Douglas thought earnestly before she answered. "Yes." she said atlast, "I have always felt that there was a danger hanging over him. Herefused to discuss it with me. It was not from want of confidence inme--there was the most complete love and confidence between us--but itwas out of his desire to keep all alarm away from me. He thought Ishould brood over it if I knew all, and so he was silent."
"How did you know it, then?"
Mrs. Douglas's face lit with a quick smil
e. "Can a husband ever carryabout a secret all his life and a woman who loves him have no suspicionof it? I knew it by his refusal to talk about some episodes in hisAmerican life. I knew it by certain precautions he took. I knew it bycertain words he let fall. I knew it by the way he looked at unexpectedstrangers. I was perfectly certain that he had some powerful enemies,that he believed they were on his track, and that he was always on hisguard against them. I was so sure of it that for years I have beenterrified if ever he came home later than was expected."
"Might I ask," asked Holmes, "what the words were which attracted yourattention?"
"The Valley of Fear," the lady answered. "That was an expression he hasused when I questioned him. 'I have been in the Valley of Fear. I amnot out of it yet.'--'Are we never to get out of the Valley of Fear?' Ihave asked him when I have seen him more serious than usual. 'SometimesI think that we never shall,' he has answered."
"Surely you asked him what he meant by the Valley of Fear?"
"I did; but his face would become very grave and he would shake hishead. 'It is bad enough that one of us should have been in its shadow,'he said. 'Please God it shall never fall upon you!' It was some realvalley in which he had lived and in which something terrible hadoccurred to him, of that I am certain; but I can tell you no more."
"And he never mentioned any names?"
"Yes, he was delirious with fever once when he had his hunting accidentthree years ago. Then I remember that there was a name that camecontinually to his lips. He spoke it with anger and a sort of horror.McGinty was the name--Bodymaster McGinty. I asked him when he recoveredwho Bodymaster McGinty was, and whose body he was master of. 'Never ofmine, thank God!' he answered with a laugh, and that was all I couldget from him. But there is a connection between Bodymaster McGinty andthe Valley of Fear."
"There is one other point," said Inspector MacDonald. "You met Mr.Douglas in a boarding house in London, did you not, and became engagedto him there? Was there any romance, anything secret or mysterious,about the wedding?"
"There was romance. There is always romance. There was nothingmysterious."
"He had no rival?"
"No, I was quite free."
"You have heard, no doubt, that his wedding ring has been taken. Doesthat suggest anything to you? Suppose that some enemy of his old lifehad tracked him down and committed this crime, what possible reasoncould he have for taking his wedding ring?"
For an instant I could have sworn that the faintest shadow of a smileflickered over the woman's lips.
"I really cannot tell," she answered. "It is certainly a mostextraordinary thing."
"Well, we will not detain you any longer, and we are sorry to have putyou to this trouble at such a time," said the inspector. "There aresome other points, no doubt; but we can refer to you as they arise."
She rose, and I was again conscious of that quick, questioning glancewith which she had just surveyed us. "What impression has my evidencemade upon you?" The question might as well have been spoken. Then, witha bow, she swept from the room.
"She's a beautiful woman--a very beautiful woman," said MacDonaldthoughtfully, after the door had closed behind her. "This man Barkerhas certainly been down here a good deal. He is a man who might beattractive to a woman. He admits that the dead man was jealous, andmaybe he knew best himself what cause he had for jealousy. Then there'sthat wedding ring. You can't get past that. The man who tears a weddingring off a dead man's--What do you say to it, Mr. Holmes?"
My friend had sat with his head upon his hands, sunk in the deepestthought. Now he rose and rang the bell. "Ames," he said, when thebutler entered, "where is Mr. Cecil Barker now?"
"I'll see, sir."
He came back in a moment to say that Barker was in the garden.
"Can you remember, Ames, what Mr. Barker had on his feet last nightwhen you joined him in the study?"
"Yes, Mr. Holmes. He had a pair of bedroom slippers. I brought him hisboots when he went for the police."
"Where are the slippers now?"
"They are still under the chair in the hall."
"Very good, Ames. It is, of course, important for us to know whichtracks may be Mr. Barker's and which from outside."
"Yes, sir. I may say that I noticed that the slippers were stained withblood--so indeed were my own."
"That is natural enough, considering the condition of the room. Verygood, Ames. We will ring if we want you."
A few minutes later we were in the study. Holmes had brought with himthe carpet slippers from the hall. As Ames had observed, the soles ofboth were dark with blood.
"Strange!" murmured Holmes, as he stood in the light of the window andexamined them minutely. "Very strange indeed!"
Stooping with one of his quick feline pounces, he placed the slipperupon the blood mark on the sill. It exactly corresponded. He smiled insilence at his colleagues.
The inspector was transfigured with excitement. His native accentrattled like a stick upon railings.
"Man," he cried, "there's not a doubt of it! Barker has just marked thewindow himself. It's a good deal broader than any bootmark. I mind thatyou said it was a splay-foot, and here's the explanation. But what'sthe game, Mr. Holmes--what's the game?"
"Ay, what's the game?" my friend repeated thoughtfully.
White Mason chuckled and rubbed his fat hands together in hisprofessional satisfaction. "I said it was a snorter!" he cried. "And areal snorter it is!"
The Valley of Fear Page 5
