The Complete Sherlock Holmes, Volume I (Barnes & Noble Classics Series)

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  “ ‘Only that at the beginning; but you are to have an overriding commission of one per cent on all business done by your agents, and you may take my word for it that this will come to more than your salary.’

  “ ‘But I know nothing about hardware.’

  “ ‘Tut, my boy, you know about figures.’

  “My head buzzed, and I could hardly sit still in my chair. But suddenly a little chill of doubt came upon me.

  “ ‘I must be frank with you,’ said I. ‘Mawson only gives me two hundred, but Mawson is safe. Now, really, I know so little about your company that——’

  “ ‘Ah, smart, smart!’ he cried in a kind of ecstasy of delight. ‘You are the very man for us. You are not to be talked over, and quite right, too. Now, here’s a note for a hundred pounds, and if you think that we can do business you may just slip it into your pocket as an advance upon your salary.’

  “ ‘That is very handsome,’ said I. ‘When should I take over my new duties? ’

  “ ‘Be in Birmingham to-morrow at one,’ said he. ‘I have a note in my pocket here which you will take to my brother. You will find him at l26B Corporation Street, where the temporary offices of the company are situated. Of course he must confirm your engagement, but between ourselves it will be all right.’

  “ ‘Really, I hardly know how to express my gratitude, Mr. Pinner,’ said I.

  “ ‘Not at all, my boy. You have only got your deserts. There are one or two small things—mere formalities—which I must arrange with you. You have a bit of paper beside you there. Kindly write upon it “I am perfectly willing to act as business manager to the Franco-Midland Hardware Company, Limited, at a minimum salary of £500.’ ”

  “I did as he asked, and he put the paper in his pocket.

  “ ‘There is one other detail,’ said he. ‘What do you intend to do about Mawson’s?’

  “I had forgotten all about Mawson’s in my joy. ‘I’ll write and resign,’ said I.

  “ ‘Precisely what I don’t want you to do. I had a row over you with Mawson’s manager. I had gone up to ask him about you, and he was very offensive; accused me of coaxing you away from the service of the firm, and that sort of thing. At last I fairly lost my temper. “If you want good men you should pay them a good price,” said I.

  “ ‘ “He would rather have our small price than your big one,” said he.

  “ ‘ “I’ll lay you a fiver,” said I, “that when he has my offer you’ll never so much as hear from him again.”

  “ ‘ “Done!” said he. “We picked him out of the gutter, and he won’t leave us so easily.” Those were his very words.’

  “ ‘The impudent scoundrel!’ I cried. ‘I’ve never so much as seen him in my life. Why should I consider him in any way? I shall certainly not write if you would rather I didn’t.’

  “ ‘Good! That’s a promise,’ said he, rising from his chair. ‘Well, I’m delighted to have got so good a man for my brother. Here’s your advance of a hundred pounds, and here is the letter. Make a note of the address, 126B Corporation Street, and remember that one o’clock to-morrow is your appointment. Good-night, and may you have all the fortune that you deserve! ’

  “That’s just about all that passed between us, as near as I can remember. You can imagine, Dr. Watson, how pleased I was at such an extraordinary bit of good fortune. I sat up half the night hugging myself over it, and next day I was off to Birmingham in a train that would take me in plenty time for my appointment. I took my things to a hotel in New Street, and then I made my way to the address which had been given me.

  “It was a quarter of an hour before my time, but I thought that would make no difference. 126B was a passage between two large shops, which led to a winding stone stair, from which there were many flats, let as offices to companies or professional men. The names of the occupants were painted at the bottom on the wall, but there was no such name as the Franco-Midland Hardware Company, Limited. I stood for a few minutes with my heart in my boots, wondering whether the whole thing was an elaborate hoax or not, when up came a man and addressed me. He was very like the chap I had seen the night before, the same figure and voice, but he was clean-shaven and his hair was lighter.

  “ ‘Are you Mr. Hall Pycroft?’ he asked.

  “ ‘Yes,’ said I.

  “ ‘Oh! I was expecting you, but you are a trifle before your time. I had a note from my brother this morning in which he sang your praises very loudly.’

  “ ‘I was just looking for the offices when you came.’

  “ ‘We have not got our name up yet, for we only secured these temporary premises last week. Come up with me, and we will talk the matter over.’

  “I followed him to the top of a very lofty stair, and there, right under the slates, were a couple of empty, dusty little rooms, uncarpeted and uncurtained, into which he led me. I had thought of a great office with shining tables and rows of clerks, such as I was used to, and I daresay I stared rather straight at the two deal chairs and one little table, which with a ledger and a waste-paper basket, made up the whole furniture.

  “ ‘Don’t be disheartened, Mr. Pycroft,’ said my new acquaintance, seeing the length of my face. ‘Rome was not built in a day, and we have lots of money at our backs, though we don’t cut much dash yet in offices. Pray sit down, and let me have your letter.’

  “I gave it to him, and he read it over very carefully.

  “ ‘You seem to have made a vast impression upon my brother Arthur,’ said he, ‘and I know that he is a pretty shrewd judge. He swears by London, you know; and I by Birmingham; but this time I shall follow his advice. Pray consider yourself definitely engaged.’

  “ ‘What are my duties?’ I asked.

  “ ‘You will eventually manage the great depot in Paris, which will pour a flood of English crockery into the shops of a hundred and thirty-four agents in France. The purchase will be completed in a week, and meanwhile you will remain in Birmingham and make yourself useful.’

  “ ‘How?’

  “For answer, he took a big red book out of a drawer.

  “ ‘This is a directory of Paris,’ said he, ‘with the trades after the names of the people. I want you to take it home with you, and to mark off all the hardware-sellers, with their addresses. It would be of the greatest use to me to have them.’

  “ ‘Surely, there are classified lists?’ I suggested.

  “ ‘Not reliable ones. Their system is different from ours. Stick at it, and let me have the lists by Monday, at twelve. Good-day, Mr. Pycroft. If you continue to show zeal and intelligence you will find the company a good master.’

  “I went back to the hotel with the big book under my arm, and with very conflicting feelings in my breast. On the one hand, I was definitely engaged and had a hundred pounds in my pocket; on the other, the look of the offices, the absence of name on the wall, and other of the points which would strike a business man had left a bad impression as to the position of my employers. However, come what might, I had my money, so I settled down to my task. All Sunday I was kept hard at work, and yet by Monday I had only got as far as H. I went round to my employer, found him in the same dismantled kind of room, and was told to keep at it until Wednesday, and then come again. On Wednesday it was still unfinished, so I hammered away until Friday—that is, yesterday. Then I brought it round to Mr. Harry Pinner.

  “ ‘Thank you very much,’ said he, ‘I fear that I underrated the difficulty of the task. This list will be of very material assistance to me.’

  “ ‘It took some time,’ said I.

  “ ‘And now,’ said he, ‘I want you to make a list of the furniture shops, for they all sell crockery.’

  “ ‘Very good.’

  “ ‘And you can come up to-morrow evening at seven and let me know how you are getting on. Don’t overwork yourself. A couple of hours at Day’s Music Hall in the evening would do you no harm after your labours.’ He laughed as he spoke, and I saw with a thrill that his second tooth upon t
he left-hand side had been very badly stuffed with gold.”

  Sherlock Holmes rubbed his hands with delight, and I stared with astonishment at our client.

  “You may well look surprised, Dr. Watson, but it is this way,” said he: “When I was speaking to the other chap in London, at the time that he laughed at my not going to Mawson’s, I happened to notice that his tooth was stuffed in this very identical fashion. The glint of the gold in each case caught my eye, you see. When I put that with the voice and figure being the same, and only those things altered which might be changed by a razor or a wig, I could not doubt that it was the same man. Of course you expect two brothers to be alike, but not that they should have the same tooth stuffed in the same way. He bowed me out, and I found myself in the street, hardly knowing whether I was on my head or my heels. Back I went to my hotel, put my head in a basin of cold water, and tried to think it out. Why had he sent me from London to Birmingham? Why had he got there before me? And why had he written a letter from himself to himself? It was altogether too much for me, and I could make no sense of it. And then suddenly it struck me that what was dark to me might be very light to Mr. Sherlock Holmes. I had just time to get up to town by the night train to see him this morning, and to bring you both back with me to Birmingham.”

  There was a pause after the stock-broker’s clerk had concluded his surprising experience. Then Sherlock Holmes cocked his eye at me, leaning back on the cushions with a pleased and yet critical face, like a connoisseur who has just taken his first sip of a comet vintage.

  “Rather fine, Watson, is it not?” said he. “There are points in it which please me. I think that you will agree with me that an interview with Mr. Arthur Harry Pinner in the temporary offices of the Franco-Midland Hardware Company, Limited, would be a rather interesting experience for both of us.”

  “But how can we do it?” I asked.

  “Oh, easily enough,” said Hall Pycroft cheerily. “You are two friends of mine who are in want of a billet, and what could be more natural than that I should bring you both round to the managing director?”

  “Quite so, of course,” said Holmes. “I should like to have a look at the gentleman and see if I can make anything of his little game. What qualities have you, my friend, which would make your services so valuable? Or is it possible that——” He began biting his nails and staring blankly out of the window, and we hardly drew another word from him until we were in New Street.

  At seven o’clock that evening we were walking, the three of us, down Corporation Street to the company’s offices.

  “It is no use our being at all before our time,” said our client. “He only comes there to see me, apparently, for the place is deserted up to the very hour he names.”

  “That is suggestive,” remarked Holmes.

  “By Jove, I told you so!” cried the clerk. “That’s he walking ahead of us there.”

  He pointed to a smallish, dark, well-dressed man who was bustling along the other side of the road. As we watched him he looked across at a boy who was bawling out the latest edition of the evening paper, and, running over among the cabs and buses, he bought one from him. Then, clutching it in his hand, he vanished through a doorway.

  “There he goes!” cried Hall Pycroft. “These are the company’s offices into which he has gone. Come with me, and I’ll fix it up as easily as possible.”

  Following his lead, we ascended five stones, until we found ourselves outside a half-opened door, at which our client tapped. A voice within bade us enter, and we entered a bare, unfurnished room such as Hall Pycroft had described. At the single table sat the man whom we had seen in the street, with his evening paper spread out in front of him, and as he looked up at us it seemed to me that I had never looked upon a face which bore such marks of grief, and of something beyond grief—of a horror such as comes to few men in a lifetime. His brow glistened with perspiration, his cheeks were of the dull, dead white of a fish’s belly, and his eyes were wild and staring. He looked at his clerk as though he failed to recognize him, and I could see by the astonishment depicted upon our conductor’s face that this was by no means the usual appearance of his employer.

  “You look ill, Mr. Pinner!” he exclaimed.

  “Yes, I am not very well,” answered the other, making obvious efforts to pull himself together and licking his dry lips before he spoke. “Who are these gentlemen whom you have brought with you?”

  “One is Mr. Harris, of Bermondsey, and the other is Mr. Price, of this town,” said our clerk glibly. “They are friends of mine and gentlemen of experience, but they have been out of a place for some little time, and they hoped that perhaps you might find an opening for them in the company’s employment.”

  “Very possibly! very possibly!” cried Mr. Pinner with a ghastly smile. “Yes, I have no doubt that we shall be able to do something for you. What is your particular line, Mr. Harris?”

  “I am an accountant,” said Holmes.

  “Ah, yes, we shall want something of the sort. And you, Mr. Price?”

  “A clerk,” said I.

  “I have every hope that the company may accommodate you. I will let you know about it as soon as we come to any conclusion. And now I beg that you will go. For God’s sake leave me to myself!”

  These last words were shot out of him, as though the constraint which he was evidently setting upon himself had suddenly and utterly burst asunder. Holmes and I glanced at each other, and Hall Pycroft took a step towards the table.

  “You forget, Mr. Pinner, that I am here by appointment to receive some directions from you,” said he.

  “Certainly, Mr. Pycroft, certainly,” the other resumed in a calmer tone. “You may wait here a moment and there is no reason why your friends should not wait with you. I will be entirely at your service in three minutes, if I might trespass upon your patience so far.” He rose with a very courteous air, and, bowing to us, he passed out through a door at the farther end of the room, which he closed behind him.

  “What now?” whispered Holmes. “Is he giving us the slip?”

  “Impossible,” answered Pycroft.

  “Why so?”

  “That door leads into an inner room.”

  “There is no exit?”

  “None.”

  “Is it furnished?”

  “It was empty yesterday.”

  “Then what on earth can he be doing? There is something which I don’t understand in this matter. If ever a man was three parts mad with terror, that man’s name is Pinner. What can have put the shivers on him?”

  “He suspects that we are detectives,” I suggested.

  “That’s it,” cried Pycroft.

  Holmes shook his head. “He did not turn pale. He was pale when we entered the room,” said he. “It is just possible that——”

  His words were interrupted by a sharp rat-tat from the direction of the inner door.

  “What the deuce is he knocking at his own door for?” cried the clerk.

  Again and much louder came the rat-tat-tat. We all gazed expectantly at the closed door. Glancing at Holmes, I saw his face turn rigid, and he leaned forward in intense excitement. Then suddenly came a low guggling, gargling sound, and a brisk drumming upon woodwork. Holmes sprang frantically across the room and pushed at the door. It was fastened on the inner side. Following his example, we threw ourselves upon it with all our weight. One hinge snapped, then the other, and down came the door with a crash. Rushing over it, we found ourselves in the inner room. It was empty.

  But it was only for a moment that we were at fault. At one corner, the corner nearest the room which we had left, there was a second door. Holmes sprang to it and pulled it open. A coat and waistcoat were lying on the floor, and from a hook behind the door, with his own braces round his neck, was hanging the managing director of the Franco-Midland Hardware Company. His knees were drawn up, his head hung at a dreadful angle to his body, and the clatter of his heels against the door made the noise which had broken in upon our
conversation. In an instant I had caught him round the waist, and held him up while Holmes and Pycroft untied the elastic bands which had disappeared between the livid creases of skin. Then we carried him into the other room, where he lay with a clay-coloured face, puffing his purple lips in and out with every breath—a dreadful wreck of all that he had been but five minutes before.

  “What do you think of him, Watson?” asked Holmes.

  I stooped over him and examined him. His pulse was feeble and intermittent, but his breathing grew longer, and there was a little shivering of his eyelids, which showed a thin white slit of ball beneath.

  “It has been touch and go with him,” said I, “but he’ll live now. Just open that window, and hand me the water carafe.” I undid his collar, poured the cold water over his face, and raised and sank his arms until he drew a long, natural breath. “It’s only a question of time now,” said I as I turned away from him.

  Holmes stood by the table, with his hands deep in his trousers’ pockets and his chin upon his breast.

  “I suppose we ought to call the police in now,” said he. “And yet I confess that I’d like to give them a complete case when they come.”

  “It’s a blessed mystery to me,” cried Pycroft, scratching his head. “Whatever they wanted to bring me all the way up here for, and then——”

  “Pooh! All that is clear enough,” said Holmes impatiently. “It is this last sudden move.”

  “You understand the rest, then?”

  “I think that it is fairly obvious. What do you say, Watson?”

  I shrugged my shoulders. “I must confess that I am out of my depths,” said I.

  “Oh, surely if you consider the events at first they can only point to one conclusion.”

  “What do you make of them?”

  “Well, the whole thing hinges upon two points. The first is the making of Pycroft write a declaration by which he entered the service of this preposterous company. Do you not see how very suggestive that is?”

  “I am afraid I miss the point.”

  “Well, why did they want him to do it? Not as a business matter, for these arrangements are usually verbal, and there was no earthly business reason why this should be an exception. Don’t you see, my young friend, that they were very anxious to obtain a specimen of your handwriting, and had no other way of doing it?”