The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes

by Arthur Conan Doyle

  ADVENTURE III. A CASE OF IDENTITY

  "My dear fellow," said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either sideof the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitelystranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. Wewould not dare to conceive the things which are really merecommonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that windowhand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove theroofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, thestrange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, thewonderful chains of events, working through generations, andleading to the most outre results, it would make all fiction withits conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale andunprofitable."

  "And yet I am not convinced of it," I answered. "The cases whichcome to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, andvulgar enough. We have in our police reports realism pushed toits extreme limits, and yet the result is, it must be confessed,neither fascinating nor artistic."

  "A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing arealistic effect," remarked Holmes. "This is wanting in thepolice report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon theplatitudes of the magistrate than upon the details, which to anobserver contain the vital essence of the whole matter. Dependupon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace."

  I smiled and shook my head. "I can quite understand your thinkingso," I said. "Of course, in your position of unofficial adviserand helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughoutthree continents, you are brought in contact with all that isstrange and bizarre. But here"--I picked up the morning paperfrom the ground--"let us put it to a practical test. Here is thefirst heading upon which I come. 'A husband's cruelty to hiswife.' There is half a column of print, but I know withoutreading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, ofcourse, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, thebruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest ofwriters could invent nothing more crude."

  "Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument,"said Holmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. "Thisis the Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engagedin clearing up some small points in connection with it. Thehusband was a teetotaler, there was no other woman, and theconduct complained of was that he had drifted into the habit ofwinding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and hurlingthem at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an action likelyto occur to the imagination of the average story-teller. Take apinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored overyou in your example."

  He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst inthe centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to hishomely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting uponit.

  "Ah," said he, "I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks.It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for myassistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers."

  "And the ring?" I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant whichsparkled upon his finger.

  "It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter inwhich I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide iteven to you, who have been good enough to chronicle one or two ofmy little problems."

  "And have you any on hand just now?" I asked with interest.

  "Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature ofinterest. They are important, you understand, without beinginteresting. Indeed, I have found that it is usually inunimportant matters that there is a field for the observation,and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives thecharm to an investigation. The larger crimes are apt to be thesimpler, for the bigger the crime the more obvious, as a rule, isthe motive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matterwhich has been referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothingwhich presents any features of interest. It is possible, however,that I may have something better before very many minutes areover, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken."

  He had risen from his chair and was standing between the partedblinds gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street.Looking over his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement oppositethere stood a large woman with a heavy fur boa round her neck,and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat which wastilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion over herear. From under this great panoply she peeped up in a nervous,hesitating fashion at our windows, while her body oscillatedbackward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her glovebuttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leavesthe bank, she hurried across the road, and we heard the sharpclang of the bell.

  "I have seen those symptoms before," said Holmes, throwing hiscigarette into the fire. "Oscillation upon the pavement alwaysmeans an affaire de coeur. She would like advice, but is not surethat the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yeteven here we may discriminate. When a woman has been seriouslywronged by a man she no longer oscillates, and the usual symptomis a broken bell wire. Here we may take it that there is a lovematter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed, orgrieved. But here she comes in person to resolve our doubts."

  As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttonsentered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herselfloomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailedmerchant-man behind a tiny pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes welcomedher with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable, and,having closed the door and bowed her into an armchair, he lookedher over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which waspeculiar to him.

  "Do you not find," he said, "that with your short sight it is alittle trying to do so much typewriting?"

  "I did at first," she answered, "but now I know where the lettersare without looking." Then, suddenly realising the full purportof his words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with fearand astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face. "You'veheard about me, Mr. Holmes," she cried, "else how could you knowall that?"

  "Never mind," said Holmes, laughing; "it is my business to knowthings. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what othersoverlook. If not, why should you come to consult me?"

  "I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege,whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyone hadgiven him up for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do asmuch for me. I'm not rich, but still I have a hundred a year inmy own right, besides the little that I make by the machine, andI would give it all to know what has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel."

  "Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?" askedSherlock Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his eyes tothe ceiling.

  Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of MissMary Sutherland. "Yes, I did bang out of the house," she said,"for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr.Windibank--that is, my father--took it all. He would not go tothe police, and he would not go to you, and so at last, as hewould do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done,it made me mad, and I just on with my things and came right awayto you."

  "Your father," said Holmes, "your stepfather, surely, since thename is different."

  "Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny,too, for he is only five years and two months older than myself."

  "And your mother is alive?"

  "Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn't best pleased, Mr.Holmes, when she married again so soon after father's death, anda man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself. Fatherwas a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, and he left a tidybusiness behind him, which mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, theforeman; but when Mr. Windibank came he made her sell thebusiness, for he was very superior, being a traveller in wines.They got 4700 pounds for the goodwill and interest, which wasn'tnear as much as father could have got if he had been alive."

  I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under thisrambling and inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, hehad listened with the greatest concentration of attention.

  "Your own little
income," he asked, "does it come out of thebusiness?"

  "Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncleNed in Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4 1/2 percent. Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I canonly touch the interest."

  "You interest me extremely," said Holmes. "And since you draw solarge a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into thebargain, you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself inevery way. I believe that a single lady can get on very nicelyupon an income of about 60 pounds."

  "I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but youunderstand that as long as I live at home I don't wish to be aburden to them, and so they have the use of the money just whileI am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for thetime. Mr. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays itover to mother, and I find that I can do pretty well with what Iearn at typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet, and I canoften do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day."

  "You have made your position very clear to me," said Holmes."This is my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak asfreely as before myself. Kindly tell us now all about yourconnection with Mr. Hosmer Angel."

  A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face, and she pickednervously at the fringe of her jacket. "I met him first at thegasfitters' ball," she said. "They used to send father ticketswhen he was alive, and then afterwards they remembered us, andsent them to mother. Mr. Windibank did not wish us to go. Henever did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if Iwanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time Iwas set on going, and I would go; for what right had he toprevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know, when allfather's friends were to be there. And he said that I had nothingfit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so muchas taken out of the drawer. At last, when nothing else would do,he went off to France upon the business of the firm, but we went,mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be our foreman, and itwas there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel."

  "I suppose," said Holmes, "that when Mr. Windibank came back fromFrance he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball."

  "Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, andshrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denyinganything to a woman, for she would have her way."

  "I see. Then at the gasfitters' ball you met, as I understand, agentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel."

  "Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask ifwe had got home all safe, and after that we met him--that is tosay, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that fathercame back again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the houseany more."

  "No?"

  "Well, you know father didn't like anything of the sort. Hewouldn't have any visitors if he could help it, and he used tosay that a woman should be happy in her own family circle. Butthen, as I used to say to mother, a woman wants her own circle tobegin with, and I had not got mine yet."

  "But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to seeyou?"

  "Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmerwrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see eachother until he had gone. We could write in the meantime, and heused to write every day. I took the letters in in the morning, sothere was no need for father to know."

  "Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?"

  "Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk thatwe took. Hosmer--Mr. Angel--was a cashier in an office inLeadenhall Street--and--"

  "What office?"

  "That's the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don't know."

  "Where did he live, then?"

  "He slept on the premises."

  "And you don't know his address?"

  "No--except that it was Leadenhall Street."

  "Where did you address your letters, then?"

  "To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till calledfor. He said that if they were sent to the office he would bechaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady,so I offered to typewrite them, like he did his, but he wouldn'thave that, for he said that when I wrote them they seemed to comefrom me, but when they were typewritten he always felt that themachine had come between us. That will just show you how fond hewas of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would thinkof."

  "It was most suggestive," said Holmes. "It has long been an axiomof mine that the little things are infinitely the most important.Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?"

  "He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with mein the evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated tobe conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even hisvoice was gentle. He'd had the quinsy and swollen glands when hewas young, he told me, and it had left him with a weak throat,and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech. He was alwayswell dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes were weak, justas mine are, and he wore tinted glasses against the glare."

  "Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather,returned to France?"

  "Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that weshould marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnestand made me swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whateverhappened I would always be true to him. Mother said he was quiteright to make me swear, and that it was a sign of his passion.Mother was all in his favour from the first and was even fonderof him than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within theweek, I began to ask about father; but they both said never tomind about father, but just to tell him afterwards, and mothersaid she would make it all right with him. I didn't quite likethat, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave, ashe was only a few years older than me; but I didn't want to doanything on the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where thecompany has its French offices, but the letter came back to me onthe very morning of the wedding."

  "It missed him, then?"

  "Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived."

  "Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, forthe Friday. Was it to be in church?"

  "Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour's, nearKing's Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St.Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there weretwo of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into afour-wheeler, which happened to be the only other cab in thestreet. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheelerdrove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, andwhen the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no onethere! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had becomeof him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That waslast Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anythingsince then to throw any light upon what became of him."

  "It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated," saidHolmes.

  "Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, allthe morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was tobe true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred toseparate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to him,and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemedstrange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened sincegives a meaning to it."

  "Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that someunforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?"

  "Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else hewould not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresawhappened."

  "But you have no notion as to what it could have been?"

  "None."

  "One more question. How did your mother take the matter?"

  "She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matteragain."

  "And your father? Did you tell him?"

  "Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something hadhappened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said,what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors ofthe church, and then leaving me?
Now, if he had borrowed mymoney, or if he had married me and got my money settled on him,there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very independent aboutmoney and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, whatcould have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives mehalf-mad to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink at night." Shepulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sobheavily into it.

  "I shall glance into the case for you," said Holmes, rising, "andI have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let theweight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your minddwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angelvanish from your memory, as he has done from your life."

  "Then you don't think I'll see him again?"

  "I fear not."

  "Then what has happened to him?"

  "You will leave that question in my hands. I should like anaccurate description of him and any letters of his which you canspare."

  "I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle," said she."Here is the slip and here are four letters from him."

  "Thank you. And your address?"

  "No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell."

  "Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is yourfather's place of business?"

  "He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importersof Fenchurch Street."

  "Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You willleave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have givenyou. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow itto affect your life."

  "You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall betrue to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back."

  For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there wassomething noble in the simple faith of our visitor whichcompelled our respect. She laid her little bundle of papers uponthe table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenevershe might be summoned.

  Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertipsstill pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him,and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took downfrom the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as acounsellor, and, having lit it, he leaned back in his chair, withthe thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him, and a look ofinfinite languor in his face.

  "Quite an interesting study, that maiden," he observed. "I foundher more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way,is rather a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if youconsult my index, in Andover in '77, and there was something ofthe sort at The Hague last year. Old as is the idea, however,there were one or two details which were new to me. But themaiden herself was most instructive."

  "You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quiteinvisible to me," I remarked.

  "Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where tolook, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bringyou to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness ofthumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace.Now, what did you gather from that woman's appearance? Describeit."

  "Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with afeather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beadssewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Herdress was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a littlepurple plush at the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were greyish andwere worn through at the right forefinger. Her boots I didn'tobserve. She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and ageneral air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable,easy-going way."

  Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled.

  "'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You havereally done very well indeed. It is true that you have missedeverything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, andyou have a quick eye for colour. Never trust to generalimpressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details. Myfirst glance is always at a woman's sleeve. In a man it isperhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As youobserve, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a mostuseful material for showing traces. The double line a littleabove the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table,was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type,leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the sideof it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across thebroadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and,observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, Iventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemedto surprise her."

  "It surprised me."

  "But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised andinterested on glancing down to observe that, though the bootswhich she was wearing were not unlike each other, they werereally odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, andthe other a plain one. One was buttoned only in the two lowerbuttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, andfifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatlydressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned,it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry."

  "And what else?" I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, bymy friend's incisive reasoning.

  "I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leavinghome but after being fully dressed. You observed that her rightglove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently seethat both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. She hadwritten in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep. It must have beenthis morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger.All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go backto business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the advertiseddescription of Mr. Hosmer Angel?"

  I held the little printed slip to the light.

  "Missing," it said, "on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentlemannamed Hosmer Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height;strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald inthe centre, bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tintedglasses, slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen,in black frock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albertchain, and grey Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters overelastic-sided boots. Known to have been employed in an office inLeadenhall Street. Anybody bringing--"

  "That will do," said Holmes. "As to the letters," he continued,glancing over them, "they are very commonplace. Absolutely noclue in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. Thereis one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strikeyou."

  "They are typewritten," I remarked.

  "Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at theneat little 'Hosmer Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, yousee, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which israther vague. The point about the signature is very suggestive--infact, we may call it conclusive."

  "Of what?"

  "My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly itbears upon the case?"

  "I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be ableto deny his signature if an action for breach of promise wereinstituted."

  "No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters,which should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, theother is to the young lady's stepfather, Mr. Windibank, askinghim whether he could meet us here at six o'clock tomorrowevening. It is just as well that we should do business with themale relatives. And now, Doctor, we can do nothing until theanswers to those letters come, so we may put our little problemupon the shelf for the interim."

  I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powersof reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt thathe must have some solid grounds for the assured and easydemeanour with which he treated the singular mystery which he hadbeen called upon to fathom. Once only had I known him to fail, inthe case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adlerphotograph; but when I looked back to the weird business of theSign of Four, and the extraordinary circumstances connected withthe Study in Scarlet, I felt that it would be
a strange tangleindeed which he could not unravel.

  I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with theconviction that when I came again on the next evening I wouldfind that he held in his hands all the clues which would lead upto the identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss MarySutherland.

  A professional case of great gravity was engaging my ownattention at the time, and the whole of next day I was busy atthe bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon sixo'clock that I found myself free and was able to spring into ahansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be toolate to assist at the denouement of the little mystery. I foundSherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thinform curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidablearray of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smellof hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in thechemical work which was so dear to him.

  "Well, have you solved it?" I asked as I entered.

  "Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta."

  "No, no, the mystery!" I cried.

  "Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon.There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I saidyesterday, some of the details are of interest. The only drawbackis that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel."

  "Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting MissSutherland?"

  The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yetopened his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in thepassage and a tap at the door.

  "This is the girl's stepfather, Mr. James Windibank," saidHolmes. "He has written to me to say that he would be here atsix. Come in!"

  The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, somethirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with abland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp andpenetrating grey eyes. He shot a questioning glance at each ofus, placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with aslight bow sidled down into the nearest chair.

  "Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "I think thatthis typewritten letter is from you, in which you made anappointment with me for six o'clock?"

  "Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am notquite my own master, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherlandhas troubled you about this little matter, for I think it is farbetter not to wash linen of the sort in public. It was quiteagainst my wishes that she came, but she is a very excitable,impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and she is not easilycontrolled when she has made up her mind on a point. Of course, Idid not mind you so much, as you are not connected with theofficial police, but it is not pleasant to have a familymisfortune like this noised abroad. Besides, it is a uselessexpense, for how could you possibly find this Hosmer Angel?"

  "On the contrary," said Holmes quietly; "I have every reason tobelieve that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel."

  Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. "I amdelighted to hear it," he said.

  "It is a curious thing," remarked Holmes, "that a typewriter hasreally quite as much individuality as a man's handwriting. Unlessthey are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike. Someletters get more worn than others, and some wear only on oneside. Now, you remark in this note of yours, Mr. Windibank, thatin every case there is some little slurring over of the 'e,' anda slight defect in the tail of the 'r.' There are fourteen othercharacteristics, but those are the more obvious."

  "We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office,and no doubt it is a little worn," our visitor answered, glancingkeenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes.

  "And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study,Mr. Windibank," Holmes continued. "I think of writing anotherlittle monograph some of these days on the typewriter and itsrelation to crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted somelittle attention. I have here four letters which purport to comefrom the missing man. They are all typewritten. In each case, notonly are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's' tailless, but you willobserve, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the fourteenother characteristics to which I have alluded are there as well."

  Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. "Icannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes,"he said. "If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me knowwhen you have done it."

  "Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key inthe door. "I let you know, then, that I have caught him!"

  "What! where?" shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lipsand glancing about him like a rat in a trap.

  "Oh, it won't do--really it won't," said Holmes suavely. "Thereis no possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite tootransparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said thatit was impossible for me to solve so simple a question. That'sright! Sit down and let us talk it over."

  Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and aglitter of moisture on his brow. "It--it's not actionable," hestammered.

  "I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves,Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in apetty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over thecourse of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong."

  The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon hisbreast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet upon the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his handsin his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed,than to us.

  "The man married a woman very much older than himself for hermoney," said he, "and he enjoyed the use of the money of thedaughter as long as she lived with them. It was a considerablesum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would havemade a serious difference. It was worth an effort to preserve it.The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionateand warm-hearted in her ways, so that it was evident that withher fair personal advantages, and her little income, she wouldnot be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage wouldmean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does herstepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course ofkeeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company ofpeople of her own age. But soon he found that that would notanswer forever. She became restive, insisted upon her rights, andfinally announced her positive intention of going to a certainball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives anidea more creditable to his head than to his heart. With theconnivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself,covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face witha moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voiceinto an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account of thegirl's short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and keeps offother lovers by making love himself."

  "It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor. "We neverthought that she would have been so carried away."

  "Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was verydecidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her mind thather stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery neverfor an instant entered her mind. She was flattered by thegentleman's attentions, and the effect was increased by theloudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angel beganto call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed asfar as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. Therewere meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure thegirl's affections from turning towards anyone else. But thedeception could not be kept up forever. These pretended journeysto France were rather cumbrous. The thing to do was clearly tobring the business to an end in such a dramatic manner that itwould leave a permanent impression upon the young lady's mind andprevent her from looking upon any other suitor for some time tocome. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament, andhence also the allusions to a possibility of something happeningon the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wished MissSutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as tohis fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, s
he would notlisten to another man. As far as the church door he brought her,and then, as he could go no farther, he conveniently vanishedaway by the old trick of stepping in at one door of afour-wheeler and out at the other. I think that was the chain ofevents, Mr. Windibank!"

  Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmeshad been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a coldsneer upon his pale face.

  "It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes," said he, "but if youare so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it isyou who are breaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothingactionable from the first, but as long as you keep that doorlocked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and illegalconstraint."

  "The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes, unlockingand throwing open the door, "yet there never was a man whodeserved punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or afriend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!"he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer uponthe man's face, "it is not part of my duties to my client, buthere's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treatmyself to--" He took two swift steps to the whip, but before hecould grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs,the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr.James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road.

  "There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes, laughing, as hethrew himself down into his chair once more. "That fellow willrise from crime to crime until he does something very bad, andends on a gallows. The case has, in some respects, been notentirely devoid of interest."

  "I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," Iremarked.

  "Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr.Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curiousconduct, and it was equally clear that the only man who reallyprofited by the incident, as far as we could see, was thestepfather. Then the fact that the two men were never together,but that the one always appeared when the other was away, wassuggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice,which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. Mysuspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action intypewriting his signature, which, of course, inferred that hishandwriting was so familiar to her that she would recognise eventhe smallest sample of it. You see all these isolated facts,together with many minor ones, all pointed in the samedirection."

  "And how did you verify them?"

  "Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. Iknew the firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printeddescription. I eliminated everything from it which could be theresult of a disguise--the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and Isent it to the firm, with a request that they would inform mewhether it answered to the description of any of theirtravellers. I had already noticed the peculiarities of thetypewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at his businessaddress asking him if he would come here. As I expected, hisreply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial butcharacteristic defects. The same post brought me a letter fromWesthouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that thedescription tallied in every respect with that of their employe,James Windibank. Voila tout!"

  "And Miss Sutherland?"

  "If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the oldPersian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tigercub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.'There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as muchknowledge of the world."