The Crooked Man

Arthur Conan Doyle

One summer night, a few months after my marriage, I was seated by my own hearth smoking a last pipe and nodding over a novel, for my day's work had been an exhausting one. My wife had already gone upstairs, and the sound of the locking of the hall door some time before told me that the servants had also retired. I had risen from my seat and was knocking out the ashes of my pipe when I suddenly heard the clang of the bell.

I looked at the clock. It was a quarter to twelve. This could not be a visitor at so late an hour. A patient, evidently, and possibly an all-night sitting. With a wry face I went out into the hall and opened the door. To my astonishment it was Sherlock Holmes who stood upon my step.

“Ah, Watson,” said he, “I hoped that I might not be too late to catch you.”

“My dear fellow, pray come in.”

“You look surprised, and no wonder! Relieved, too, I fancy! Hum! You still smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days then! There's no mistaking that fluffy ash upon your coat. It's easy to tell that you have been accustomed to wear a uniform, Watson. You'll never pass as a pure-bred civilian as long as you keep that habit of carrying your handkerchief in your sleeve. Could you put me up tonight?”

“With pleasure.”

“You told me that you had bachelor quarters for one, and I see that you have no gentleman visitor at present. Your hat-stand proclaims as much.”

“I shall be delighted if you will stay.”

“Thank you. I'll fill the vacant peg then. Sorry to see that you've had the British workman in the house. He's a token of evil. Not the drains, I hope?”

“No, the gas.”

“Ah! He has left two nail-marks from his boot upon your linoleum just where the light strikes it. No, thank you, I had some supper at Waterloo, but I'll smoke a pipe with you with pleasure.”

I handed him my pouch, and he seated himself opposite to me and smoked for some time in silence. I was well aware that nothing but business of importance would have brought him to me at such an hour, so I waited patiently until he should come round to it.

“I see that you are professionally rather busy just now,” said he, glancing very keenly across at me.

“Yes, I've had a busy day,” I answered. “It may seem very foolish in your eyes,” I added, “but really I don't know how you deduced it.”

Holmes chuckled to himself.

“I have the advantage of knowing your habits, my dear Watson,” said he. “When your round is a short one you walk, and when it is a long one you use a hansom. As I perceive that your boots, although used, are by no means dirty, I cannot doubt that you are at present busy enough to justify the hansom.”

“Excellent!” I cried.

“Elementary,” said he. “It is one of those instances where the reasoner can produce an effect which seems remarkable to his neighbor, because the latter has missed the one little point which is the basis of the deduction. The same may be said, my dear fellow, for the effect of some of these little sketches of yours, which is entirely meretricious, depending as it does upon your retaining in your own hands some factors in the problem which are never imparted to the reader. Now, at present I am in the position of these same readers, for I hold in this hand several threads of one of the strangest cases which ever perplexed a man's brain, and yet I lack the one or two which are needful to complete my theory. But I'll have them, Watson, I'll have them!” His eyes kindled and a slight flush sprang into his thin cheeks. For an instant the veil had lifted upon his keen, intense nature, but for an instant only. When I glanced again his face had resumed that red-Indian composure which had made so many regard him as a machine rather than a man.

“The problem presents features of interest,” said he. “I may even say exceptional features of interest. I have already looked into the matter, and have come, as I think, within sight of my solution. If you could accompany me in that last step you might be of considerable service to me.”

“I should be delighted.”

“Could you go as far as Aldershot to-morrow?”

“I have no doubt Jackson would take my practice.”

“Very good. I want to start by the 11.10 from Waterloo.”

“That would give me time.”

“Then, if you are not too sleepy, I will give you a sketch of what has happened, and of what remains to be done.”

“I was sleepy before you came. I am quite wakeful now.”

“I will compress the story as far as may be done without omitting anything vital to the case. It is conceivable that you may even have read some account of the matter. It is the supposed murder of Colonel Barclay, of the Royal Munsters, at Aldershot, which I am investigating.”

“I have heard nothing of it.”

“It has not excited much attention yet, except locally. The facts are only two days old. Briefly they are these:

“The Royal Munsters is, as you know, one of the most famous Irish regiments in the British army. It did wonders both in the Crimea and the Mutiny, and has since that time distinguished itself upon every possible occasion. It was commanded up to Monday night by James Barclay, a gallant veteran, who started as a full private, was raised to commissioned rank for his bravery at the time of the Mutiny, and so lived to command the regiment in which he had once carried a musket.

“Colonel Barclay had married at the time when he was a sergeant, and his wife, whose maiden name was Miss Nancy Devoy, was the daughter of a former color-sergeant in the same corps. There was, therefore, as can be imagined, some little social friction when the young couple (for they were still young) found themselves in their new surroundings. They appear, however, to have quickly adapted themselves, and Mrs. Barclay has always, I understand, been as popular with the ladies of the regiment as her husband was with his brother officers. I may add that she was a woman of great beauty, and that even now, when she has been married for upwards of thirty years, she is still of a striking and queenly appearance.

“Colonel Barclay's family life appears to have been a uniformly happy one. Major Murphy, to whom I owe most of my facts, assures me that he has never heard of any misunderstanding between the pair. On the whole, he thinks that Barclay's devotion to his wife was greater than his wife's to Barclay. He was acutely uneasy if he were absent from her for a day. She, on the other hand, though devoted and faithful, was less obtrusively affectionate. But they were regarded in the regiment as the very model of a middle-aged couple. There was absolutely nothing in their mutual relations to prepare people for the tragedy which was to follow.

“Colonel Barclay himself seems to have had some singular traits in his character. He was a dashing, jovial old solder in his usual mood, but there were occasions on which he seemed to show himself capable of considerable violence and vindictiveness. This side of his nature, however, appears never to have been turned towards his wife. Another fact, which had struck Major Murphy and three out of five of the other officers with whom I conversed, was the singular sort of depression which came upon him at times. As the major expressed it, the smile had often been struck from his mouth, as if by some invisible hand, when he has been joining the gaieties and chaff of the mess-table. For days on end, when the mood was on him, he has been sunk in the deepest gloom. This and a certain tinge of superstition were the only unusual traits in his character which his brother officers had observed. The latter peculiarity took the form of a dislike to being left alone, especially after dark. This puerile feature in a nature which was conspicuously manly had often given rise to comment and conjecture.

“The first battalion of the Royal Munsters (which is the old 117th) has been stationed at Aldershot for some years. The married officers live out of barracks, and the Colonel has during all this time occupied a villa called Lachine, about half a mile from the north camp. The house stands in its own grounds, but the west side of it is not more than thirty yards from the high-road. A coachman and two maids form the staff of servants. These with their master and mistress were the sole occupants of Lachine, for the Barclays had no children, nor was it usual for them to have resident visitors.

“Now for the events at Lachine between nine and ten on the evening of last Monday.

“Mrs. Barclay was, it appears, a member of the Roman Catholic Church, and had interested herself very much in the establishment of the Guild of St. George, which was formed in connection with the Watt Street Chapel for the purpose of supplying the poor with cast-off clothing. A meeting of the Guild had been held that evening at eight, and Mrs. Barclay had hurried over her dinner in order to be present at it. When leaving the house she was heard by the coachman to make some commonplace remark to her husband, and to assure him that she would be back before very long. She then called for Miss Morrison, a young lady who lives in the next villa, and the two went off together to their meeting. It lasted forty minutes, and at a quarter-past nine Mrs. Barclay returned home, having left Miss Morrison at her door as she passed.

“There is a room which is used as a morning-room at Lachine. This faces the road and opens by a large glass folding-door on to the lawn. The lawn is thirty yards across, and is only divided from the highway by a low wall with an iron rail above it. It was into this room that Mrs. Barclay went upon her return. The blinds were not down, for the room was seldom used in the evening, but Mrs. Barclay herself lit the lamp and then rang the bell, asking Jane Stewart, the house-maid, to bring her a cup of tea, which was quite contrary to her usual habits. The Colonel had been sitting in the dining-room, but hearing that his wife had returned he joined her in the morning-room. The coachman saw him cross the hall and enter it. He was never seen again alive.

“The tea which had been ordered was brought up at the end of ten minutes; but the maid, as she approached the door, was surprised to hear the voices of her master and mistress in furious altercation. She knocked without receiving any answer, and even turned the handle, but only to find that the door was locked upon the inside. Naturally enough she ran down to tell the cook, and the two women with the coachman came up into the hall and listened to the dispute which was still raging. They all agreed that only two voices were to be heard, those of Barclay and of his wife. Barclay's remarks were subdued and abrupt, so that none of them were audible to the listeners. The lady's, on the other hand, were most bitter, and when she raised her voice could be plainly heard. ‘You coward!’ she repeated over and over again. ‘What can be done now? What can be done now? Give me back my life. I will never so much as breathe the same air with you again! You coward! You Coward!’ Those were scraps of her conversation, ending in a sudden dreadful cry in the man's voice, with a crash, and a piercing scream from the woman. Convinced that some tragedy had occurred, the coachman rushed to the door and strove to force it, while scream after scream issued from within. He was unable, however, to make his way in, and the maids were too distracted with fear to be of any assistance to him. A sudden thought struck him, however, and he ran through the hall door and round to the lawn upon which the long French windows open. One side of the window was open, which I understand was quite usual in the summer-time, and he passed without difficulty into the room. His mistress had ceased to scream and was stretched insensible upon a couch, while with his feet tilted over the side of an arm-chair, and his head upon the ground near the corner of the fender, was lying the unfortunate soldier stone dead in a pool of his own blood.

“Naturally, the coachman's first thought, on finding that he could do nothing for his master, was to open the door. But here an unexpected and singular difficulty presented itself. The key was not in the inner side of the door, nor could he find it anywhere in the room. He went out again, therefore, through the window, and having obtained the help of a policeman and of a medical man, he returned. The lady, against whom naturally the strongest suspicion rested, was removed to her room, still in a state of insensibility. The Colonel's body was then placed upon the sofa, and a careful examination made of the scene of the tragedy.

“The injury from which the unfortunate veteran was suffering was found to be a jagged cut some two inches long at the back part of his head, which had evidently been caused by a violent blow from a blunt weapon. Nor was it difficult to guess what that weapon may have been. Upon the floor, close to the body, was lying a singular club of hard carved wood with a bone handle. The Colonel possessed a varied collection of weapons brought from the different countries in which he had fought, and it is conjectured by the police that his club was among his trophies. The servants deny having seen it before, but among the numerous curiosities in the house it is possible that it may have been overlooked. Nothing else of importance was discovered in the room by the police, save the inexplicable fact that neither upon Mrs. Barclay's person nor upon that of the victim nor in any part of the room was the missing key to be found. The door had eventually to be opened by a locksmith from Aldershot.

“That was the state of things, Watson, when upon the Tuesday morning I, at the request of Major Murphy, went down to Aldershot to supplement the efforts of the police. I think that you will acknowledge that the problem was already one of interest, but my observations soon made me realize that it was in truth much more extraordinary than would at first sight appear.

“Before examining the room I cross-questioned the servants, but only succeeded in eliciting the facts which I have already stated. One other detail of interest was remembered by Jane Stewart, the housemaid. You will remember that on hearing the sound of the quarrel she descended and returned with the other servants. On that first occasion, when she was alone, she says that the voices of her master and mistress were sunk so low that she could hear hardly anything, and judged by their tones rather than their words that they had fallen out. On my pressing her, however, she remembered that she heard the word David uttered twice by the lady. The point is of the utmost importance as guiding us towards the reason of the sudden quarrel. The Colonel's name, you remember, was James.

“There was one thing in the case which had made the deepest impression both upon the servants and the police. This was the contortion of the Colonel's face. It had set, according to their account, into the most dreadful expression of fear and horror which a human countenance is capable of assuming. More than one person fainted at the mere sight of him, so terrible was the effect. It was quite certain that he had foreseen his fate, and that it had caused him the utmost horror. This, of course, fitted in well enough with the police theory, if the Colonel could have seen his wife making a murderous attack upon him. Nor was the fact of the wound being on the back of his head a fatal objection to this, as he might have turned to avoid the blow. No information could be got from the lady herself, who was temporarily insane from an acute attack of brain-fever.

“From the police I learned that Miss Morrison, who you remember went out that evening with Mrs. Barclay, denied having any knowledge of what it was which had caused the ill-humor in which her companion had returned.

“Having gathered these facts, Watson, I smoked several pipes over them, trying to separate those which were crucial from others which were merely incidental. There could be no question that the most distinctive and suggestive point in the case was the singular disappearance of the door-key. A most careful search had failed to discover it in the room. Therefore it must have been taken from it. But neither the Colonel nor the Colonel's wife could have taken it. That was perfectly clear. Therefore a third person must have entered the room. And that third person could only have come in through the window. It seemed to me that a careful examination of the room and the lawn might possibly reveal some traces of this mysterious individual. You know my methods, Watson. There was not one of them which I did not apply to the inquiry. And it ended by my discovering traces, but very different ones from those which I had expected. There had been a man in the room, and he had crossed the lawn coming from the road. I was able to obtain five very clear impressions of his foot-marks: one in the roadway itself, at the point where he had climbed the low wall, two on the lawn, and two very faint ones upon the stained boards near the window where he had entered. He had apparently rushed across the lawn, for his toe-marks were much deeper than his heels. But it was not the man who surprised me. It was his companion.”

“His companion!”

Holmes pulled a large sheet of tissue-paper out of his pocket and carefully unfolded it upon his knee.

“What do you make of that?” he asked.

The paper was covered with the tracings of the foot-marks of some small animal. It had five well-marked foot-pads, an indication of long nails, and the whole print might be nearly as large as a dessert-spoon.

“It's a dog,” said I.

“Did you ever hear of a dog running up a curtain? I found distinct traces that this creature had done so.”

“A monkey, then?”

“But it is not the print of a monkey.”

“What can it be, then?”

“Neither dog nor cat nor monkey nor any creature that we are familiar with. I have tried to reconstruct it from the measurements. Here are four prints where the beast has been standing motionless. You see that it is no less than fifteen inches from fore-foot to hind. Add to that the length of neck and head, and you get a creature not much less than two feet long—probably more if there is any tail. But now observe this other measurement. The animal has been moving, and we have the length of its stride. In each case it is only about three inches. You have an indication, you see, of a long body with very short legs attached to it. It has not been considerate enough to leave any of its hair behind it. But its general shape must be what I have indicated, and it can run up a curtain, and it is carnivorous.”

“How do you deduce that?”

“Because it ran up the curtain. A canary's cage was hanging in the window, and its aim seems to have been to get at the bird.”

“Then what was the beast?”

“Ah, if I could give it a name it might go a long way towards solving the case. On the whole, it was probably some creature of the weasel and stoat tribe—and yet it is larger than any of these that I have seen.”

“But what had it to do with the crime?”

“That, also, is still obscure. But we have learned a good deal, you perceive. We know that a man stood in the road looking at the quarrel between the Barclays—the blinds were up and the room lighted. We know, also, that he ran across the lawn, entered the room, accompanied by a strange animal, and that he either struck the Colonel or, as is equally possible, that the Colonel fell down from sheer fright at the sight of him, and cut his head on the corner of the fender. Finally, we have the curious fact that the intruder carried away the key with him when he left.”

“Your discoveries seem to have left the business more obscure that it was before,” said I.

“Quite so. They undoubtedly showed that the affair was much deeper than was at first conjectured. I thought the matter over, and I came to the conclusion that I must approach the case from another aspect. But really, Watson, I am keeping you up, and I might just as well tell you all this on our way to Aldershot to-morrow.”

“Thank you, you have gone rather too far to stop.”

“It is quite certain that when Mrs. Barclay left the house at half-past seven she was on good terms with her husband. She was never, as I think I have said, ostentatiously affectionate, but she was heard by the coachman chatting with the Colonel in a friendly fashion. Now, it was equally certain that, immediately on her return, she had gone to the room in which she was least likely to see her husband, had flown to tea as an agitated woman will, and finally, on his coming in to her, had broken into violent recriminations. Therefore something had occurred between seven-thirty and nine o'clock which had completely altered her feelings towards him. But Miss Morrison had been with her during the whole of that hour and a half. It was absolutely certain, therefore, in spite of her denial, that she must know something of the matter.

“My first conjecture was, that possibly there had been some passages between this young lady and the old soldier, which the former had now confessed to the wife. That would account for the angry return, and also for the girl's denial that anything had occurred. Nor would it be entirely incompatible with most of the words overhead. But there was the reference to David, and there was the known affection of the Colonel for his wife, to weigh against it, to say nothing of the tragic intrusion of this other man, which might, of course, be entirely disconnected with what had gone before. It was not easy to pick one's steps, but, on the whole, I was inclined to dismiss the idea that there had been anything between the Colonel and Miss Morrison, but more than ever convinced that the young lady held the clue as to what it was which had turned Mrs. Barclay to hatred of her husband. I took the obvious course, therefore, of calling upon Miss M., of explaining to her that I was perfectly certain that she held the facts in her possession, and of assuring her that her friend, Mrs. Barclay, might find herself in the dock upon a capital charge unless the matter were cleared up.

“Miss Morrison is a little ethereal slip of a girl, with timid eyes and blond hair, but I found her by no means wanting in shrewdness and common-sense. She sat thinking for some time after I had spoken, and then, turning to me with a brisk air of resolution, she broke into a remarkable statement which I will condense for your benefit.

“‘I promised my friend that I would say nothing of the matter, and a promise is a promise,’ said she; ‘but if I can really help her when so serious a charge is laid against her, and when her own mouth, poor darling, is closed by illness, then I think I am absolved from my promise. I will tell you exactly what happened upon Monday evening.

“‘We were returning from the Watt Street Mission about a quarter to nine o'clock. On our way we had to pass through Hudson Street, which is a very quiet thoroughfare. There is only one lamp in it, upon the left-hand side, and as we approached this lamp I saw a man coming towards us with is back very bent, and something like a box slung over one of his shoulders. He appeared to be deformed, for he carried his head low and walked with his knees bent. We were passing him when he raised his face to look at us in the circle of light thrown by the lamp, and as he did so he stopped and screamed out in a dreadful voice, “My God, it's Nancy!” Mrs. Barclay turned as white as death, and would have fallen down had the dreadful-looking creature not caught hold of her. I was going to call for the police, but she, to my surprise, spoke quite civilly to the fellow.

“‘“I thought you had been dead this thirty years, Henry,” said she, in a shaking voice.

“‘“So I have,” said he, and it was awful to hear the tones that he said it in. He had a very dark, fearsome face, and a gleam in his eyes that comes back to me in my dreams. His hair and whiskers were shot with gray, and his face was all crinkled and puckered like a withered apple.

“‘“Just walk on a little way, dear,” said Mrs. Barclay; “I want to have a word with this man. There is nothing to be afraid of.” She tried to speak boldly, but she was still deadly pale and could hardly get her words out for the trembling of her lips.

“‘I did as she asked me, and they talked together for a few minutes. Then she came down the street with her eyes blazing, and I saw the crippled wretch standing by the lamp-post and shaking his clenched fists in the air as if he were mad with rage. She never said a word until we were at the door here, when she took me by the hand and begged me to tell no one what had happened.

“‘“It's an old acquaintance of mine who has come down in the world,” said she. When I promised her I would say nothing she kissed me, and I have never seen her since. I have told you now the whole truth, and if I withheld it from the police it is because I did not realize then the danger in which my dear friend stood. I know that it can only be to her advantage that everything should be known.’

“There was her statement, Watson, and to me, as you can imagine, it was like a light on a dark night. Everything which had been disconnected before began at once to assume its true place, and I had a shadowy presentiment of the whole sequence of events. My next step obviously was to find the man who had produced such a remarkable impression upon Mrs. Barclay. If he were still in Aldershot it should not be a very difficult matter. There are not such a very great number of civilians, and a deformed man was sure to have attracted attention. I spent a day in the search, and by evening—this very evening, Watson—I had run him down. The man's name is Henry Wood, and he lives in lodgings in this same street in which the ladies met him. He has only been five days in the place. In the character of a registration-agent I had a most interesting gossip with his landlady. The man is by trade a conjurer and performer, going round the canteens after nightfall, and giving a little entertainment at each. He carries some creature about with him in that box; about which the landlady seemed to be in considerable trepidation, for she had never seen an animal like it. He uses it in some of his tricks according to her account. So much the woman was able to tell me, and also that it was a wonder the man lived, seeing how twisted he was, and that he spoke in a strange tongue sometimes, and that for the last two nights she had heard him groaning and weeping in his bedroom. He was all right, as far as money went, but in his deposit he had given her what looked like a bad florin. She showed it to me, Watson, and it was an Indian rupee.

“So now, my dear fellow, you see exactly how we stand and why it is I want you. It is perfectly plain that after the ladies parted from this man he followed them at a distance, that he saw the quarrel between husband and wife through the window, that he rushed in, and that the creature which he carried in his box got loose. That is all very certain. But he is the only person in this world who can tell us exactly what happened in that room.”

“And you intend to ask him?”

“Most certainly—but in the presence of a witness.”

“And I am the witness?”

“If you will be so good. If he can clear the matter up, well and good. If he refuses, we have no alternative but to apply for a warrant.”

“But how do you know he'll be there when we return?”

“You may be sure that I took some precautions. I have one of my Baker Street boys mounting guard over him who would stick to him like a burr, go where he might. We shall find him in Hudson Street to-morrow, Watson, and meanwhile I should be the criminal myself if I kept you out of bed any longer.”

It was midday when we found ourselves at the scene of the tragedy, and, under my companion's guidance, we made our way at once to Hudson Street. In spite of his capacity for concealing his emotions, I could easily see that Holmes was in a state of suppressed excitement, while I was myself tingling with that half-sporting, half-intellectual pleasure which I invariably experienced when I associated myself with him in his investigations.

“This is the street,” said he, as we turned into a short thoroughfare lined with plain two-storied brick houses. “Ah, here is Simpson to report.”

“He's in all right, Mr. Holmes,” cried a small street Arab, running up to us.

“Good, Simpson!” said Holmes, patting him on the head. “Come along, Watson. This is the house.” He sent in his card with a message that he had come on important business, and a moment later we were face to face with the man whom we had come to see. In spite of the warm weather he was crouching over a fire, and the little room was like an oven. The man sat all twisted and huddled in his chair in a way which gave an indescribably impression of deformity; but the face which he turned towards us, though worn and swarthy, must at some time have been remarkable for its beauty. He looked suspiciously at us now out of yellow-shot, bilious eyes, and, without speaking or rising, he waved towards two chairs.

“Mr. Henry Wood, late of India, I believe,” said Holmes, affably. “I've come over this little matter of Colonel Barclay's death.”

“What should I know about that?”

“That's what I want to ascertain. You know, I suppose, that unless the matter is cleared up, Mrs. Barclay, who is an old friend of yours, will in all probability be tried for murder.”

The man gave a violent start.

“I don't know who you are,” he cried, “nor how you come to know what you do know, but will you swear that this is true that you tell me?”

“Why, they are only waiting for her to come to her senses to arrest her.”

“My God! Are you in the police yourself?”

“No.”

“What business is it of yours, then?”

“It's every man's business to see justice done.”

“You can take my word that she is innocent.”

“Then you are guilty.”

“No, I am not.”

“Who killed Colonel James Barclay, then?”

“It was a just providence that killed him. But, mind you this, that if I had knocked his brains out, as it was in my heart to do, he would have had no more than his due from my hands. If his own guilty conscience had not struck him down it is likely enough that I might have had his blood upon my soul. You want me to tell the story. Well, I don't know why I shouldn't, for there's no cause for me to be ashamed of it.

“It was in this way, sir. You see me now with my back like a camel and by ribs all awry, but there was a time when Corporal Henry Wood was the smartest man in the 117th foot. We were in India then, in cantonments, at a place we'll call Bhurtee. Barclay, who died the other day, was sergeant in the same company as myself, and the belle of the regiment, ay, and the finest girl that ever had the breath of life between her lips, was Nancy Devoy, the daughter of the color-sergeant. There were two men that loved her, and one that she loved, and you'll smile when you look at this poor thing huddled before the fire, and hear me say that it was for my good looks that she loved me.

“Well, though I had her heart, her father was set upon her marrying Barclay. I was a harum-scarum, reckless lad, and he had had an education, and was already marked for the sword-belt. But the girl held true to me, and it seemed that I would have had her when the Mutiny broke out, and all hell was loose in the country.

“We were shut up in Bhurtee, the regiment of us with half a battery of artillery, a company of Sikhs, and a lot of civilians and women-folk. There were ten thousand rebels round us, and they were as keen as a set of terriers round a rat-cage. About the second week of it our water gave out, and it was a question whether we could communicate with General Neill's column, which was moving up country. It was our only chance, for we could not hope to fight our way out with all the women and children, so I volunteered to go out and to warn General Neill of our danger. My offer was accepted, and I talked it over with Sergeant Barclay, who was supposed to know the ground better than any other man, and who drew up a route by which I might get through the rebel lines. At ten o'clock the same night I started off upon my journey. There were a thousand lives to save, but it was of only one that I was thinking when I dropped over the wall that night.

“My way ran down a dried-up watercourse, which we hoped would screen me from the enemy's sentries; but as I crept round the corner of it I walked right into six of them, who were crouching down in the dark waiting for me. In an instant I was stunned with a blow and bound hand and foot. But the real blow was to my heart and not to my head, for as I came to and listened to as much as I could understand of their talk, I heard enough to tell me that my comrade, the very man who had arranged the way that I was to take, had betrayed me by means of a native servant into the hands of the enemy.

“Well, there's no need for me to dwell on that part of it. You know now what James Barclay was capable of. Bhurtee was relieved by Neill next day, but the rebels took me away with them in their retreat, and it was many a long year before ever I saw a white face again. I was tortured and tried to get away, and was captured and tortured again. You can see for yourselves the state in which I was left. Some of them that fled into Nepal took me with them, and then afterwards I was up past Darjeeling. The hill-folk up there murdered the rebels who had me, and I became their slave for a time until I escaped; but instead of going south I had to go north, until I found myself among the Afghans. There I wandered about for many a year, and at last came back to the Punjaub, where I lived mostly among the natives and picked up a living by the conjuring tricks that I had learned. What use was it for me, a wretched cripple, to go back to England or to make myself known to my old comrades? Even my wish for revenge would not make me do that. I had rather that Nancy and my old pals should think of Harry Wood as having died with a straight back, than see him living and crawling with a stick like a chimpanzee. They never doubted that I was dead, and I meant that they never should. I heard that Barclay had married Nancy, and that he was rising rapidly in the regiment, but even that did not make me speak.

“But when one gets old one has a longing for home. For years I've been dreaming of the bright green fields and the hedges of England. At last I determined to see them before I died. I saved enough to bring me across, and then I came here where the soldiers are, for I know their ways and how to amuse them and so earn enough to keep me.”

“Your narrative is most interesting,” said Sherlock Holmes. “I have already heard of your meeting with Mrs. Barclay, and your mutual recognition. You then, as I understand, followed her home and saw through the window an altercation between her husband and her, in which she doubtless cast his conduct to you in his teeth. Your own feelings overcame you, and you ran across the lawn and broke in upon them.”

“I did, sir, and at the sight of me he looked as I have never seen a man look before, and over he went with his head on the fender. But he was dead before he fell. I read death on his face as plain as I can read that text over the fire. The bare sight of me was like a bullet through his guilty heart.”

“And then?”

“Then Nancy fainted, and I caught up the key of the door from her hand, intending to unlock it and get help. But as I was doing it it seemed to me better to leave it alone and get away, for the thing might look black against me, and any way my secret would be out if I were taken. In my haste I thrust the key into my pocket, and dropped my stick while I was chasing Teddy, who had run up the curtain. When I got him into his box, from which he had slipped, I was off as fast as I could run.”

“Who's Teddy?” asked Holmes.

The man leaned over and pulled up the front of a kind of hutch in the corner. In an instant out there slipped a beautiful reddish-brown creature, thin and lithe, with the legs of a stoat, a long, thin nose, and a pair of the finest red eyes that ever I saw in an animal's head.

“It's a mongoose,” I cried.

“Well, some call them that, and some call them ichneumon,” said the man. “Snake-catcher is what I call them, and Teddy is amazing quick on cobras. I have one here without the fangs, and Teddy catches it every night to please the folk in the canteen.

“Any other point, sir?”

“Well, we may have to apply to you again if Mrs. Barclay should prove to be in serious trouble.”

“In that case, of course, I'd come forward.”

“But if not, there is no object in raking up this scandal against a dead man, foully as he has acted. You have at least the satisfaction of knowing that for thirty years of his life his conscience bitterly reproached him for this wicked deed. Ah, there goes Major Murphy on the other side of the street. Good-bye, Wood. I want to learn if anything has happened since yesterday.”

We were in time to overtake the major before he reached the corner.

“Ah, Holmes,” he said: “I suppose you have heard that all this fuss has come to nothing?”

“What then?”

“The inquest is just over. The medical evidence showed conclusively that death was due to apoplexy. You see it was quite a simple case after all.”

“Oh, remarkably superficial,” said Holmes, smiling. “Come, Watson, I don't think we shall be wanted in Aldershot any more.”

“There's one thing,” said I, as we walked down to the station. “If the husband's name was James, and the other was Henry, what was this talk about David?”

“That one word, my dear Watson, should have told me the whole story had I been the ideal reasoner which you are so fond of depicting. It was evidently a term of reproach.”

“Of reproach?”

“Yes; David strayed a little occasionally, you know, and on one occasion in the same direction as Sergeant James Barclay. You remember the small affair of Uriah and Bathsheba? My biblical knowledge is a trifle rusty, I fear, but you will find the story in the first or second of Samuel.”

驼背人

在我结婚数月后的一个夏夜，我坐在壁炉旁吸最后的一斗烟，冲着一本小说不住打盹，因为白天的工作累得我筋疲力尽了。我的妻子已经上楼去了，刚才传来了前厅大门上锁的声音，我知道仆人们也去休息了。我从椅子上站起来，正磕着烟斗灰，突然听到一阵门铃声。

我看了看表，差一刻十二点。时间这样晚，是不可能有人来拜访的；显然是病人，可能还是一个需要整夜护理的病人呢。我满脸不高兴地走到前厅，打开大门。出乎我的意料之外，门外石阶上站的竟是歇洛克-福尔摩斯。

“啊，华生，”福尔摩斯说道，“我希望我这时来找你还不算太晚。”

“我亲一爱一的朋友，请进来。”

“你似乎感到惊讶，这也难怪！我想，你现在放心了吧！

唉！你怎么还在吸你婚前吸的那种阿卡迪亚混合烟呢！从落在你衣服上蓬松的烟灰看，我这话没错。使人一望而知你一直一习一惯于穿军服。华生，如果你不改掉袖中藏手帕的一习一惯，那你总也不象一个纯粹的平民。今晚你能留我过夜吗？”

“欢迎之至。”

“你对我说过，你有一间单身男客住室，我看现在没有住客人。你的帽架就说明了这一点。”

“你若能住在这里，我很高兴。”

“谢谢。那么，我就占用帽架上的一个空挂钩了。很遗憾，我发现你的屋子里曾经来过不列颠工人。他是一个不幸的象征。我希望，不是修水沟的吧？”

“不，是修煤气的。”

“啊，他的长统靴在你铺地的漆布上留下了两个鞋钉印，灯光正照在上面。不，谢谢你，我在滑铁卢吃过晚饭了，不过我很高兴和你一起吸一斗烟。”

我把烟斗递给他，他坐在我对面默默不语地吸了一会儿烟。我深知，如果没有重要的事情，他是不会在这样的时候来找我的，因此，我耐心地等待他开口。

“我看你近来医务很忙呢，”他向我注意地望了一眼，说道。

“是的，我忙了一整天了，”我回答道。“在你看来，我这样说似乎是非常愚蠢的，”我补充说道，“可是我真的不知道你是如何推断出来的。”

福尔摩斯格格一笑。

“我亲一爱一的华生，我比谁都更了解你的一习一惯，”福尔摩斯说道，“你出诊时，路途近时就步行，路途远你就乘马车。我看你的靴子虽然穿过，可一点也不脏，便不难知道你现在忙得很，经常乘马车了。”

“妙极了！”我高声说道。

“这是很简单的，”福尔摩斯说道，“一个善于推理的人所提出的结果，往往使他左右的人觉得惊奇，这是因为那些人忽略了做为推论基础的一些细微地方。我亲一爱一的朋友，你在写作品时大加夸张，把一些情节故意留下，不透露给读者，这当然也会产生同样的效果了。现在，我正和那些读者的情况一样，因为有一件令人绞尽脑汁的奇案，我已经掌握了一些线索，但我还缺乏一两点使我的理论更加完善的根据。不过我一定会找到的，华生。我一定能找到它！”福尔摩斯双目炯炯发光，瘦削的双颊，也略微泛出红色。这时，他不再矜持了，露出天真热情的样子，不过，这仅仅是一刹那的时间。当我再望过去时，他的脸上又恢复了印第安人那种死板板的样子，这使得许多人以为他已失去了人一性一，仿佛象一架机器了。

“在这种案子中有一些值得注意的特点，”福尔摩斯说道，“我甚至可以说，是一些罕见的值得注意的特点。我已经对案情进行了调查研究，我认为，已经接近破案了。如果你能在这最后一步上助我一臂之力，你就给我帮了大忙了。”

“我很愿意效劳。”

“明天你能到奥尔德肖特那么远的地方去吗？”

“我相信，杰克逊可以替一我行医。”

“太好了。我想从滑铁卢车站乘十一点十分的火车动身。”

“这样，我就有时间准备了。”

“那么，如果你不十分困的话，我可以把这案子的情况和需要做的事告诉你。”

“你来以前，我倒很困，现在却十分清醒了。”

“我尽量扼要地把案情跟你讲讲，绝不遗漏任何重要情节。可能你已经读过关于这件事的某些报道了。那就是我正在进行调查的驻奥尔德肖特的芒斯特步兵一团一巴克利上校假定被杀案。”

“我一点也没有听说过这件事。”

“看起来，除了在当地以外，这件案子还没有引起足够的注意。这件案子是两天前才发生的。简要情况是这样的：“你知道，芒斯特步兵一团一是不列颠军队中一个最著名的一爱一尔兰一团一。它在克里米亚和印度两次平叛战役中，建立了奇功。

从那时起，在每次战斗中屡建功勋。这支军队直到这星期一一夜晚，一直由詹姆斯-巴克利上校指挥。上校是一个勇敢而经验丰富的军人，他开始是一个普通士兵，由于对印度叛军作战勇敢而被提升起来，后来便指挥他所在的这个一团一了。

“巴克利上校还是军士的时候，就已经结了婚，他妻子的闺名叫做南希-德沃伊，是该一团一前任上士的女儿。因此，可以想象，这对年轻夫妇（因为当时他们还很年轻）在新环境中，是受到了一些社会排挤的。但是，他们很快就适应了新的环境，我听说，巴克利夫人很受该一团一女眷们的欢迎，她的丈夫也很受同级军官的一爱一戴。我可以补充一点，她是一个很美的女子，即使现在，她已经结婚三十多年了，容貌依然婉娈动人。

“巴克利上校的家庭生活，看来始终是很美满的。我从墨菲少校那里了解到许多情况，他说，他从未听说过这对夫妇之间有什么不和。总的来说，他认为巴克利上校一爱一他的妻子胜过他妻子一爱一巴克利。如果巴克利上校有一天离开了他的妻子，他就坐卧不安。另一方面，她虽然也一爱一巴克利，也忠实于他，但是缺乏女人的柔情。不过他们二人在该一团一被公认为一对模范的中年夫妇。从他们夫妻关系上，人们绝对看不出什么东西会引起以后的悲剧。

“巴克利上校本人的一性一格似乎有些特别。他平常是一个骠悍而活泼的老军人，但有时他似乎显得相当粗一暴，报复心强。

但他的这种脾气，看来从来没有对他妻子发作过。我也和其他五名军官谈过，其中三名军官和墨菲少校曾注意到另一种情况，那就是上校有时有一种奇怪的意志消沉现象。少校说，巴克利上校在餐桌上和人高兴地说笑时，似乎有一只无形的手，经常从他的脸上抹去他的笑容。在临难前几天，他处在这种消沉状态中，心情极端忧郁。这种消沉状态和一定的迷信色彩，就是他的同伙所看到的他一性一格中唯一的不同寻常之处。他的迷信表现在不喜欢一个人独处，尤其是在天黑以后。

他这种孩子气的特征自然引起人们的议论和猜疑。

“芒斯特步兵一团一，本是老一一七一团一，第一营多年来驻扎在奥尔德肖特。那些有妻室的军官都住在军营外面。上校这些年来一直住在一所叫做‘兰静’的小别墅中，距北营约半英里，别墅的四周是庭院，可是西边离公路不到三十码。他们只雇用了一个车夫和两个女仆。因为巴克利夫妇没有孩子，平时也没有客人住在他家，所以整个‘兰静’别墅就只有上校夫妇和这三个仆人居住。

“现在我们就来谈谈上星期一晚上九十点钟在‘兰静’别墅发生的事情。

“看来，巴克利夫人是一位罗马天主教徒，她对圣乔治慈善会很关心。慈善会是瓦特街小教堂举办的，专门给穷人施舍旧衣服。那天晚上八点钟，慈善会举行一次会议。巴克利夫人匆匆吃过饭，去参加会议。在她出门的时候，车夫听见她对丈夫说了几句家常话，告诉他不久就回来。随后她去邀请住在邻近别墅的年轻的莫里森小一姐两人一起去参加会。会开了四十分钟，九点十五分巴克利夫人回家，在经过莫里森小一姐家门时，两人方才分手。

“‘兰静’别墅有一间屋子用作清晨起居室，它面对着公路，有一扇大玻璃门通向草坪。草坪有三十码宽，只有一堵上面安有铁栏杆的矮墙与公路隔开。巴克利夫人回家的时候，就是进的这间屋子，那时窗帘还没有放下，因为这间屋子平常在晚上不怎么使用。可是巴克利夫人自己点上了灯，然后按了按铃，要女仆简-斯图尔德给她送去一杯茶，这是和她平常的一习一惯相反的。那时上校正坐在餐室中，听到妻子已经回来，便到清晨起居室去见她。车夫看到上校经过走廊，走进那间屋子。上校再也没能活着走出来。

“巴克利夫人要的茶，十分钟后才准备好，可是女仆走近门口时，非常惊奇，因为她听到主人夫妇正争吵得不可开一交一。

她敲了敲门，没有人回答，又转了转门钮，发现门已经从里面锁上了。很自然，她跑回去告诉了女厨师，这两个女仆便和车夫一起来到走廊，听到两人仍在激烈地争吵。他们一致证实说，只听到巴克利和她的妻子两个人的声音。巴克利的话声很低，又不连贯，因此他们三个人谁也听不出他说的是什么。反之，那女人的声音却非常沉痛，在她高声说话时，可以听得很清楚。‘你这个懦夫！’她翻来覆去地说着，‘现在怎么办呢？现在怎么办呢？把我的青春还给我。我不愿再和你一起生活了！你这个懦夫！你这个懦夫！’这就是她断断续续说的话。接着，仆人们听到那男人突然发出一声可怕的叫喊，同时又听到一个轰隆倒地的声音和那妇人发出的一声惊心动魄的尖一叫。尖一叫一声又一声地从里面传出，车夫知道已经发生了悲剧，便冲向门前，想破门而入。然而，他却无法进去，两个女仆已经吓得惊慌失措，一点也帮不上忙。不过，他突然想起一个主意，从前门跑出去，绕到对着一个法式长窗的草坪上。长窗的一扇窗户敞开着，我听说，在夏季这扇窗户总是开着的，于是车夫便毫不费力地从窗子爬进去了。这时他的女主人已经停止了尖一叫，失去了知觉，僵卧在长沙发上；那个不幸的军人则直一挺一挺地倒毙在自己的血泊中，双脚跷起，搁在单人沙发的一侧扶手上，头倒在地上，靠近火炉挡板的一角。

“车夫发现已无法救活他的男主人，自然首先想到把门打开，但却碰到了一个意料不到而令人奇怪的困难。钥匙不在门的里侧，他在屋子里到处找也找不到。于是，他仍旧从窗户出去，找来一个警察和一个医务人员帮忙。这位夫人自然有重大的嫌疑，由于她仍处在昏厥状态，被抬到她自己房一中。

上校的一尸一体被安放到沙发上，然后，对惨案发生的现场进行了仔细的检查。

“这位不幸的老军人所受的致命伤，是在他后脑有一处二英寸来长的伤口，这显然是被一种钝器猛然一击造成的。这凶器是什么也不难推测。地板上紧一靠着一尸一体，放着一根带骨一柄一的雕花硬木棒。上校生前收集了各式各样的武器，那都是从他打过仗的不同国家带回来的。警察猜测，这根木棒是他的战利品之一。仆人们都说以前没有看见过这根木棒，不过，它若混杂在室内大量珍贵物品之中，是可能被人忽略不加注意的。警察在这间屋里没有发现其它什么重要的线索。只是有件事令人莫名其妙：那把失踪的钥匙，既不在巴克利夫人身上，也不在受害者身上，室内各处也都没有。最后，从奥尔德肖特找来了一个锁匠，才把门打开了。

“这就是这件案子的情况，华生，我应墨菲少校的邀请，在星期二早晨去奥尔德肖特帮助警察破案。我想你一定承认这件案子已经够有趣的了，不过我经过观察之后，立即感到，这件案子实际上比我最初想象的更加离奇古怪。

“我在检查这间屋子以前，曾经盘问过仆人们，他们所谈的事实，就是我刚才对你说过的那些。女仆简-斯图尔德回忆起另外一个值得注意的细节。你一定还记得，她一听到争吵的声音，就去找了另外两个仆人一同回来。在第一次她单独一人在那里时，她说主人夫妇把声音压得很低，她几乎听不到什么，她不是根据他们说的话，而是根据他们的声调，断定出他们是在争吵的。可是，在我极力追问之下，她想起了她曾听到这位夫人两次说出大卫这个字。这一点对推测他们突然争吵的原因，是极为重要的。你记得，上校的名字叫詹姆斯。

“这件案子中有一件事给仆人和警察都留下了极为深刻的印象，那就是上校的面容变得异样了。据他们说，上校的脸上现出一种极为可怕的惊恐表情，竟变得不象一个正常人的脸了。这种可怖的面容，竟使不止一个看到他的人，都几乎昏晕过去。这一定是他已经预见到自己的命运，引起他极度恐怖。当然，这完全符合警察的说法，上校可能已经看出他妻子要谋杀他了。伤在他脑后的事实和这种说法也并不十分抵触，因为他当时也许正转过身来想躲开这一打击。巴克利夫人因急一性一脑炎发作，暂时神智不清，无法从她那里了解情况。

“我从警察那里知道，那天晚上和巴克利夫人一起出去的莫里森小一姐，否认知道引起她的女伴回家后发火的原因。

“华生，我搜集到这些事实后，连一抽一了好几斗烟，思索着，设法分清哪些是关键一性一的，哪些是纯属偶然的。毫无疑问，这件案子最不寻常而又耐人寻味的一点，是屋门的钥匙丢得奇怪。在室内已经进行了十分细致的搜查，却毫无所得。所以，钥匙一定是被人拿走了，那是十分清楚的。但上校和他的妻子都没有拿它，因此，一定有第三者曾经进过这个房间，而这第三者只能是从窗子进去的。依我看，只有对这房间和草坪仔细检查一次，才能发现这个神秘人物留下的某些痕迹。你是知道我的调查方法的，华生。在调查这个案子中，没有哪一种方法我没用过。最后我终于发现了痕迹，可是与我所期望得到的截然不同。有一个人确实到过室内，他是从大路穿过草坪进来的。我一共得到了那人五个十分清晰的脚印：一个就在大路旁他翻越矮墙之处；两个在草坪上；还有两个不十分明显，是当他翻窗而入时，在窗子近旁弄脏了的地板上留下的。他显然是从草坪上跑过去的，因为他的脚尖印比脚跟印要深得多。不过使我感到惊奇的并不是这个人，而是他的同伴。”

“他的同伴！”

福尔摩斯从他口袋里取出一大张薄纸来，小心翼翼地在他的膝盖上摊开。

“你看这里什么？”福尔摩斯问道。

纸上是一种小动物的爪印。有五个很清楚的爪指，很长的爪尖，整个痕迹大小象一个点心匙。

“这是一条狗，”我说道。

“你听说过一条狗一爬上窗帘的事吗？可我在窗帘上发现了这个动物爬上去的清楚的痕迹。”

“那么，是一只猴子？”

“可是这不是猴子的爪印。”

“那么，是什么呢？”

“既不是狗，不是猫，不是猴子，也不是我们熟悉的别的什么东西。我曾经设法从爪印的大小描画出这个动物的形象。

这是它站着不动时的四个爪印。你看，从前瓜到后爪的距离，至少有十五英寸。再加上头和颈部的长度，你就可以得出这动物至少长二英尺，如果有尾巴，那也可能还要长些。不过现在再来看看另外的尺寸。这个动物曾经走动过，我们量出了它走一步的距离，每一步只有三英寸左右。你就可以知道，这东西身一体很长，腿很短。这东西虽没有留下什么一毛一来，但它的大致形状，一定和我所说的一样，它能爬上窗帘，这是一种食肉动物。”

“你是怎么推断出来的呢？”

“因为窗户上挂着一只金丝雀笼子，它爬到窗帘上，似乎是要攫取那只鸟。”

“那么，它究竟是什么兽类呢？”

“啊，如果我能说出它的名字，那就太有助于破案了。总的说来，这可能是什么鼬鼠之类的东西，不过比我曾经见过的那些要大得多。”

“但这与这件罪案有什么关系呢？”

“这一点也还没有弄清楚。可是，你可以看出，我们已经知道了不少情况。我们知道，因为窗帘没拉上，屋里亮着灯，有一个人曾经站在大路上，看到巴克利夫妇在争吵。我们还知道，他带着一只奇怪的动物，跑过了草坪，走进屋内，也可能是他打了上校，也很可能是上校看到他以后，吓得跌倒了，他的头就在炉角上撞破了。最后，我们还知道一个奇怪的事实，就是这位闯入者在离开时，把钥匙随身带走了。”

“你的这些发现，似乎把事情搞得比以前更加混乱了，”我说道。

“不错，这些情况确实说明，这件案子比最初设想的更复杂了。我把这件事仔细想了想，得出的结论是，我必须从另一方面去探索这件案子。不过，华生，我耽误你睡觉了，明天在我们去奥尔德肖特的路上，我可以把剩下的情况详详细细地告诉你。”

“谢谢你，你已经说到最有趣的地方，欲罢不能了。”

“是这样的。巴克利夫人七点半离开家门时，和她丈夫的关系还很融洽。我想我已经说过，她虽然不十分一温一柔体贴，可是车夫听到她和上校说话的口气还是很和睦的。现在，同样肯定的是，她一回来，就走到那间她不大可能见到她丈夫的清晨起居室；正象一个女人心情激动时常有的那样，吩咐给她准备茶。后来，当上校进去见她时，她便突然激动地责备起上校来。所以说，在七点半到九点钟之间，一定发生了什么事情，使她完全改变了对上校的感情。可是莫里森小一姐在这一个半小时之内，始终和巴克利夫人在一起，因此，完全可以肯定，尽避莫里森小一姐不承认，事实上她一定知道这件事的一些情况。

“原先我猜疑，可能这年轻女人和这位老军人有什么关系，而她现在向上校夫人承认了。这就可以说明为什么上校夫人气冲冲地回了家，也可以说明为什么这位姑一娘一一口否认曾经发生过什么事。这种猜测和仆人听到的那些话也并不完全矛盾。但是巴克利夫人曾经提到大卫；上校忠实于他的妻子是人所共知的；这些却又与此不相符合，更不用说第三者悲剧式的闯入了，当然，这与上述推想更联系不上。这样就很难选定正确的步骤，不过，总的来说，我倾向于放弃上校和莫里森小一姐之间有任何关系的想法，可是我更加相信这位少女对巴克利夫人憎恨她丈夫的原因是知情的。我的办法很简单，就是去拜访莫里森小一姐，向她说明，我完全肯定她知道这些事实，并且使她确信，不把这件事弄清楚，她的朋友巴克利夫人将因负主要责任而受审。

“莫里森小一姐是一个瘦小而文雅的姑一娘一，双眼满含娇羞，淡黄色的头发，非常聪明机智。我讲过之后，她坐在那里，沉思了一会，然后向我转过身来，态度坚决地声明了一些很值得注意的事，我简要地把它讲给你听。

“‘我曾经答应我的朋友，决不说出这件事，既然答应了，就应该遵约，’莫里森小一姐说道，‘可是我那可怜的一爱一友被控犯有如此严重的罪行，而她自己又因病不能开口，如果我确实能够帮助她，那么我想，我情愿不遵守约定，把星期一晚上发生的事，全部告诉你。

“‘我们大约在八点三刻从瓦特街慈善会回来。我们回家路上要经过赫德森街，这是一条非常宁静的大道。街上只有一盏路灯，是在左边。我们走近这盏路灯时，我看到一个人向我们迎面走来，这个人背驼得很厉害，他的一个肩膀上扛着一个象小箱子一类的东西。他看来已经残废了，因为他整个身一体佝偻得头向下低，走路时双膝弯曲。我们从他身旁走过时，在路灯映照下，他仰起脸来看我们。他一看到我们，就停了下来，发出了一声吓人的惊呼声：“天哪，是南希！”巴克利夫人面色变得死人一样惨白。如果不是那个面容可怕的人扶住她，她就跌倒在地了。我打算去叫警察，可是出我意料之外，巴克利夫人对这个人说话十分客气。

“‘巴克利夫人颤声说道：“这三十年来，我以为你已经死了，亨利。”

“‘“我是已经死了，”这个人说道。他说话的这种声调，听起来令人惊悸。他的脸色一陰一郁、可怕，他那时的眼神，我现在还常常梦见。他的头发和一胡一子已经灰白，面颊也皱缩得象干枯的苹果。

“‘“请你先走几步，亲一爱一的，我要和这个人说说话，用不着害怕，”她竭力说得轻松些，可是她面色依然死人似的苍白，双一唇颤一抖得几乎说不出话来。

“‘我按照她的要求先走了，他们一起谈了几分钟。后来她双眼冒火地来到街上，我看到那个可怜的残废人正站在路灯杆旁，向空中挥舞着握紧的拳头，气疯了似的。一路上她一言不发，直到我家门口，她才拉住我的手，求我不要把路上发生的事告诉任何人。

“‘“这是我的一个老相识，现在落魄了。”她说道。我答应她什么也不说，她便亲了亲我，从那时起，我便再也没有见到她。我现在已经把全部实情告诉了你。我以前所以不肯告诉警察，是因为我并不知道我亲一爱一的朋友所处地位的危险。我现在知道，把一切事情全说出来，只能对她有利。’“这就是莫里森小一姐告诉我的话，华生。你可以想象，这对我来说，就象在黑夜中见到了一线光明。以前毫不相关的每一件事，立即恢复了它们的本来面貌。我对这个案件的全部过程，已经隐约看出些眉目了。我下一步显然是去找那个给巴克利夫人留下如此不平常印象的人。如果此人仍在奥尔德肖特，这就不是一件难办的事。这地方居民并不多，而一个残废人势必会引人注意的。我花了一天时间去找他，到了傍晚时分，也就是今天傍晚，华生，我把他找到了。这个人名叫亨利-伍德，寄居在那两个女人遇见他的那条街上。他到这个地方刚刚五天。我以登记人员的资格和女房东谈得非常投机。这个人是一个变戏法的，每天黄昏以后就到私人经营的各个士兵俱乐部去跑一圈，在每个