“It would be a grand help to the police，” said the inspector，“if these things were numbered and registered. But we must bethankful for what we’ve got. If we can’t find where he went to，at least we are likely to get where he came from. But what in thename of all that is wonderful made the fellow leave it behind？ Andhow in the world has he got away without it？ We don’t seem to geta gleam of light in the case， Mr. Holmes.”
“Don’t we？” my friend answered thoughtfully. “I wonder！”
The People of the Drama
“Have you seen all you want of the study？” asked White Masonas we reёntered the house.
“For the time，” said the inspector， and Holmes nodded.
“Then perhaps you would now like to hear the evidence of someof the people in the house. We could use the dining room， Ames.
Please come yourself first and tell us what you know.”
The butler’s account was a simple and a clear one， and he gave aconvincing impression of sincerity. He had been engaged five yearsbefore， when Douglas first came to Birlstone. He understood thatMr. Douglas was a rich gentleman who had made his money inAmerica. He had been a kind and considerate employer—not quitewhat Ames was used to， perhaps； but one can’t have everything.
He never saw any signs of apprehension in Mr. Douglas： on thecontrary， he was the most fearless man he had ever known. Heordered the drawbridge to be pulled up every night because it wasthe ancient custom of the old house， and he liked to keep the oldways up.
Mr. Douglas seldom went to London or left the village； buton the day before the crime he had been shopping at TunbridgeWells. He （Ames） had observed some restlessness and excitementon the part of Mr. Douglas that day； for he had seemed impatientand irritable， which was unusual with him. He had not gone to bedthat night； but was in the pantry at the back of the house， puttingaway the silver， when he heard the bell ring violently. He heardno shot； but it was hardly possible he would， as the pantry andkitchens were at the very back of the house and there were severalclosed doors and a long passage between. The housekeeper hadcome out of her room， attracted by the violent ringing of the bell.
They had gone to the front of the house together.
As they reached the bottom of the stairs he had seen Mrs.
Douglas coming down it. No， she was not hurrying； it did notseem to him that she was particularly agitated. Just as she reachedthe bottom of the stair Mr. Barker had rushed out of the study. Hehad stopped Mrs. Douglas and begged her to go back.
“For God’s sake， go back to your room！” he cried. “Poor Jack isdead！ You can do nothing. For God’s sake， go back！”
After some persuasion upon the stairs Mrs. Douglas had goneback. She did not scream. She made no outcry whatever. Mrs.
Allen， the housekeeper， had taken her upstairs and stayed withher in the bedroom. Ames and Mr. Barker had then returned tothe study， where they had found everything exactly as the policehad seen it. The candle was not lit at that time； but the lamp wasburning. They had looked out of the window； but the night wasvery dark and nothing could be seen or heard. They had thenrushed out into the hall， where Ames had turned the windlasswhich lowered the drawbridge. Mr. Barker had then hurried off toget the police.
Such， in its essentials， was the evidence of the butler.
The account of Mrs. Allen， the housekeeper， was， so faras it went， a corroboration of that of her fellow servant. Thehousekeeper’s room was rather nearer to the front of the housethan the pantry in which Ames had been working. She waspreparing to go to bed when the loud ringing of the bell hadattracted her attention. She was a little hard of hearing. Perhapsthat was why she had not heard the shot； but in any case the studywas a long way off. She remembered hearing some sound whichshe imagined to be the slamming of a door. That was a good dealearlier—half an hour at least before the ringing of the bell. WhenMr. Ames ran to the front she went with him. She saw Mr. Barker，very pale and excited， come out of the study. He intercepted Mrs.
Douglas， who was coming down the stairs. He entreated her to goback， and she answered him， but what she said could not be heard.
“Take her up！ Stay with her！” he had said to Mrs. Allen.
She had therefore taken her to the bedroom， and endeavouredto soothe her. She was greatly excited， trembling all over， but madeno other attempt to go downstairs. She just sat in her dressinggown by her bedroom fire， with her head sunk in her hands. Mrs.
Allen stayed with her most of the night. As to the other servants，they had all gone to bed， and the alarm did not reach them untiljust before the police arrived. They slept at the extreme back ofthe house， and could not possibly have heard anything.
So far the housekeeper could add nothing on cross-examinationsave lamentations and expressions of amazement.
Cecil Barker succeeded Mrs. Allen as a witness. As to theoccurrences of the night before， he had very little to add to whathe had already told the police. Personally， he was convinced thatthe murderer had escaped by the window. The bloodstain wasconclusive， in his opinion， on that point. Besides， as the bridgewas up， there was no other possible way of escaping. He could notexplain what had become of the assassin or why he had not takenhis bicycle， if it were indeed his. He could not possibly have beendrowned in the moat， which was at no place more than three feetdeep.
In his own mind he had a very definite theory about the murder.
Douglas was a reticent man， and there were some chapters in hislife of which he never spoke. He had emigrated to America whenhe was a very young man. He had prospered well， and Barker hadfirst met him in California， where they had become partners in asuccessful mining claim at a place called Benito Canon. They haddone very well； but Douglas had suddenly sold out and started forEngland. He was a widower at that time. Barker had afterwardsrealized his money and come to live in London. Thus they hadrenewed their friendship.