"What is the young man's own account of the matter?"

"It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters,

though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive.

You will find it here, and may read it for yourself."

He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire

paper, and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the

paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own

statement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in the

corner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this

way:

Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called

and gave evidence as follows: "I had been away from home for

three days at Bristol, and had only just returned upon the

morning of last Monday, the 3d. My father was absent from home at

the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that he

had driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the groom. Shortly after

my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and,

looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out

of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was

going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of

the Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit

warren which is upon the other side. On my way I saw William

Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but

he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father. I had

no idea that he was in front of me. When about a hundred yards

from the pool I heard a cry of 'Cooee!' which was a usual signal

between my father and myself. I then hurried forward, and found

him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at

seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A

conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows,

for my father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that his

passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned

towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards,

however, when I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me

to run back again. I found my father expiring upon the ground,

with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in

my arms, but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for

some minutes, and then made my way to Mr. Turner's lodge-keeper,

his house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one

near my father when I returned, and I have no idea how he came by

his injuries. He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and

forbidding in his manners, but he had, as far as I know, no

active enemies. I know nothing further of the matter."

"The Coroner: 'Did your father make any statement to you before

he died?'

"Witness: 'He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some

allusion to a rat.'

"The Coroner: 'What did you understand by that?'

"Witness: 'It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was

delirious.'

"The Coroner: 'What was the point upon which you and your father

had this final quarrel?'

"Witness: 'I should prefer not to answer.'

"The Coroner: 'I am afraid that I must press it.'

"Witness: 'It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can

assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which

followed.'

"The Coroner: 'That is for the court to decide. I need not point

out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case

considerably in any future proceedings which may arise'

"Witness: 'I must still refuse.'

"The Coroner: 'I understand that the cry of "Cooee" was a common

signal between you and your father?'

"Witness: 'It was.'

"The Coroner: 'How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw

you, and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol?'

"Witness (with considerable confusion): 'I do not know.'

"A Juryman: 'Did you see nothing which aroused your suspiclons

when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father

fatally injured?'

"Witness: 'Nothing definite.'

"The Coroner: 'What do you mean?'

"Witness: 'I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into

the open, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet

I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay

upon the ground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be

something gray in color, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps.

When I rose from my father I looked round for it, but it was

gone.'

"'Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?'

"'Yes, it was gone.'

"'You cannot say what it was?'

"'No, I had a feeling something was there.'

"'How far from the body?'

"'A dozen yards or so.'

"'And how far from the edge of the wood?'

"'About the same.'

"'Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen

yards of it?'

"'Yes, but with my back towards it.'

"This concluded the examination of the witness."

"I see," said I as I glanced down the column, "that the coroner

in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy.

He calls attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his

father having signalled to him before seeing him also to his

refusal to give details of his conversation with his father, and

his singular account of his father's dying words. They are all,

as he remarks, very much against the son."

Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon

the cushioned seat. "Both you and the coroner have been at some

pains," said he, "to single out the very strongest points in the

young man's favor. Don't you see that you alternately give him

credit for having too much imaginition and too little? Too

little, if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would

give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if he evolved from

his own inner consciousness anything so outre as a dying

reference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth. No,

sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what

this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that

hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and

not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the

scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be

there in twenty minutes."