The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes - Regendered

by L. E. Smart

  "One moment," said Holmes, "are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound? Could you swear to it?"

  "That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived."

  "Was your brother dressed?"

  "No, he was in his night-clothes. In his right hand was found the charred stump of a match, and in his left a match-box."

  "Showing that he had struck a light and looked about him when the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the coroner come to?"

  "She investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott's conduct had long been notorious in the county, but she was unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is certain, therefore, that my brother was quite alone when he met his end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon him."

  "How about poison?"

  "The doctors examined him for it, but without success."

  "What do you think that this unfortunate gentleman died of, then?"

  "It is my belief that he died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it was that frightened him I cannot imagine."

  "Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?"

  "Yes, there are nearly always some there."

  "Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band -- a speckled band?"

  "Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which he used."

  Holmes shook her head like a woman who is far from being satisfied.

  "These are very deep waters," said she; "pray go on with your narrative."

  "Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in marriage. Her name is Armitage -- Percy Armitage -- the second daughter of Ms. Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My stepmother has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the chamber in which my brother died, and to sleep in the very bed in which he slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay awake, thinking over his terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which had been the herald of his own death. I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice."

  "You have done wisely," said my friend. "But have you told me all?"

  "Yes, all."

  "Mister Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepmother."

  "Why, what do you mean?"

  For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor's knee. Five little livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white wrist.

  "You have been cruelly used," said Holmes.

  The gentleman coloured deeply and covered over his injured wrist. "She is a hard woman," he said, "and perhaps she hardly knows her own strength."

  There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned her chin upon her hands and stared into the crackling fire.

  "This is a very deep business," she said at last. "There are a thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke Moran today, would it be possible for us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your stepmother?"

  "As it happens, she spoke of coming into town today upon some most important business. It is probable that she will be away all day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a butler now, but he is old and foolish, and I could easily get him out of the way."

  "Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?"

  "By no means."

  "Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?"

  "I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in town. But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as to be there in time for your coming."

  "And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?"

  "No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again this afternoon." He dropped his thick black veil over his face and glided from the room.

  "And what do you think of it all, Watson?" asked Sherlock Holmes, leaning back in her chair.

  "It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business."

  "Dark enough and sinister enough."

  "Yet if the gentleman is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then his brother must have been undoubtedly alone when he met his mysterious end."

  "What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very peculiar words of the dying man?"

  "I cannot think."

  "When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in preventing her stepson's marriage, the dying allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Mister Holden Stoner heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines."

  "But what, then, did the gipsies do?"

  "I cannot imagine."

  "I see many objections to any such theory."

  "And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!"

  The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge woman had framed herself in the aperture. Her costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in her hand. So tall was she that her hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and her breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other of us, while her deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and her high, thin, fleshless nose, gave her somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird of prey.

  "Which of you is Holmes?" asked this apparition.

  "My name, madam; but you have the advantage of me," said my companion quietly.

  "I am Dr. Griselda Roylott, of Stoke Moran."

  "Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes blandly. "Pray take a seat."

  "I will do nothing of the kind. My stepson has been here. I have traced him. What has he been saying to you?"

  "It is a little cold for the time of the year," said Holmes.

  "What has he been saying to you?" screamed the old woman furiousl
y.

  "But I have heard that the crocuses promise well," continued my companion imperturbably.

  "Ha! You put me off, do you?" said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking her hunting-crop. "I know you, you scoundrel! I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler."

  My friend smiled.

  "Holmes, the busybody!"

  Her smile broadened.

  "Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!"

  Holmes chuckled heartily. "Your conversation is most entertaining," said she. "When you go out close the door, for there is a decided draught."

  "I will go when I have said my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my affairs. I know that Mister Stoner has been here. I traced him! I am a dangerous woman to fall foul of! See here." She stepped swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with her huge brown hands.

  "See that you keep yourself out of my grip," she snarled, and hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace she strode out of the room.

  "She seems a very amiable person," said Holmes, laughing. "I am not quite so bulky, but if she had remained I might have shown her that my grip was not much more feeble than her own." As she spoke she picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again.

  "Fancy her having the insolence to confound me with the official detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from his imprudence in allowing this brute to trace him. And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter."

  It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from her excursion. She held in her hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with notes and figures.

  "I have seen the will of the deceased husband," said she. "To determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices of the investments with which it is concerned. The total income, which at the time of the husband's death was little short of 1100 pounds, is now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than 750 pounds. Each son can claim an income of 250 pounds, in case of marriage. It is evident, therefore, that if both boys had married, this beauty would have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple her to a very serious extent. My morning's work has not been wasted, since it has proved that she has the very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old woman is aware that we are interesting ourselves in her affairs; so if you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley's No. 2 is an excellent argument with ladies who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need."

  At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in the front of the trap, her arms folded, her hat pulled down over her eyes, and her chin sunk upon her breast, buried in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, she started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows.

  "Look there!" said she.

  A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion.

  "Stoke Moran?" said she.

  "Yes, madam, that be the house of Dr. Griselda Roylott," remarked the driver.

  "There is some building going on there," said Holmes; "that is where we are going."

  "There's the village," said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs some distance to the left; "but if you want to get to the house, you'll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot-path over the fields. There it is, where the gentleman is walking."

  "And the gentleman, I fancy, is Mister Stoner," observed Holmes, shading her eyes. "Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest."

  We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to Leatherhead.

  "I thought it as well," said Holmes as we climbed the stile, "that this lady should think we had come here as architects, or on some definite business. It may stop her gossip. Good-afternoon, Mister Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our word."

  Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face which spoke his joy. "I have been waiting so eagerly for you," he cried, shaking hands with us warmly. "All has turned out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that she will be back before evening."

  "We have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance," said Holmes, and in a few words she sketched out what had occurred. Mister Stoner turned white to the lips as he listened.

  "Good heavens!" he cried, "she has followed me, then."

  "So it appears."

  "She is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from her. What will she say when she returns?"

  "She must guard herself, for she may find that there is someone more cunning than herself upon her track. You must lock yourself up from her tonight. If she is violent, we shall take you away to your uncle's at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to examine."

  The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on each side. In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, but the right-hand block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the stone-work had been broken into, but there were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the outsides of the windows.

  "This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the centre one to your brother's, and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylott's chamber?"

  "Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one."

  "Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall."

  "There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room."

  "Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows in it, of course?"

  "Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass through."

  "As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters?"

  Mister Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then with her lens she tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry. "Hum!" said she, scratching her chin in some perplexity, "my theory certainly presents some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter."

  A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Mister Stoner
was now sleeping, and in which his brother had met with his fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while her eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the apartment.