Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes 753
“Where was he sitting?”
“I was smoking in my dressing-room.”
“Which window is that?”
“The last on the left next my father’s.”
“Both of your lamps were lit, of course?”
“Undoubtedly.”
“There are some very singular points here,” said Holmes,smiling. “Is it not extraordinary that a burglary—and a burglarwho had had some previous experience—should deliberately breakinto a house at a time when he could see from the lights that twoof the family were still afoot?”
“He must have been a cool hand.”
“Well, of course, if the case were not an odd one we should nothave been driven to ask you for an explanation,” said young Mr.
Alec. “But as to your ideas that the man had robbed the housebefore William tackled him, I think it a most absurd notion.
Wouldn’t we have found the place disarranged, and missed thethings which he had taken?”
“It depends on what the things were,” said Holmes. “You mustremember that we are dealing with a burglar who is a very peculiarfellow, and who appears to work on lines of his own. Look, forexample, at the queer lot of things which he took from Acton’s—what was it? —a ball of string, a letter-weight, and I don’t knowwhat other odds and ends.”
“Well, we are quite in your hands, Mr. Holmes,” said oldCunningham. “Anything which you or the inspector may suggestwill most certainly be done.”
“In the first place,” said Holmes, “I should like you to offer areward—coming from yourself, for the officials may take a little timebefore they would agree upon the sum, and these things cannot bedone too promptly. I have jotted down the form here, if you wouldnot mind signing it. Fifty pounds was quite enough, I thought.”
“I would willingly give five hundred,” said the J.P., taking the slipof paper and the pencil which Holmes handed to him. “This is notquite correct, however,” he added, glancing over the document.
“I wrote it rather hurriedly.”
“You see you begin, ‘Whereas, at about a quarter to one onTuesday morning an attempt was made,’ and so on. It was at aquarter to twelve, as a matter of fact.”
I was pained at the mistake, for I knew how keenly Holmeswould feel any slip of the kind. It was his specialty to be accurateas to fact, but his recent illness had shaken him, and this one littleincident was enough to show me that he was still far from beinghimself. He was obviously embarrassed for an instant, while theInspector raised his eyebrows, and Alec Cunningham burst into754 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
laugh. The old gentleman corrected the mistake, however, andhanded the paper back to Holmes.
“Get it printed as soon as possible,” he said; “I think your idea isan excellent one.”
Holmes put the slip of paper carefully away into his pocketbook.
“And now,” said he, “it really would be a good thing that weshould all go over the house together and make certain that thisrather erratic burglar did not, after all, carry anything away withhim.”
Before entering, Holmes made an examination of the doorwhich had been forced. It was evident that a chisel or strong knifehad been thrust in, and the lock forced back with it. We could seethe marks in the wood where it had been pushed in.
“You don’t use bars, then?” he asked.
“We have never found it necessary.”
“You don’t keep a dog?”
“Yes, but he is chained on the other side of the house.”
“When do the servants go to bed?”
“About ten.”
“I understand that William was usually in bed also at that hour.”
“Yes.”
“It is singular that on this particular night he should have beenup. Now, I should be very glad if you would have the kindness toshow us over the house, Mr. Cunningham.”
A stone-flagged passage, with the kitchens branching awayfrom it, led by a wooden staircase directly to the first floor of thehouse. It came out upon the landing opposite to a second moreornamental stair which came up from the front hall. Out of thislanding opened the drawing-room and several bedrooms, includingthose of Mr. Cunningham and his son. Holmes walked slowly,taking keen note of the architecture of the house. I could tellfrom his expression that he was on a hot scent, and yet I could notin the least imagine in what direction his inferences were leadinghim.
“My good sir,” said Mr. Cunningham with some impatience, “thissurely very unnecessary. That is my room at the end of the stairs,and my son’s is the one beyond it. I leave it to your judgmentwhether it was possible for the thief to have come up here withoutdisturbing us.”
“You must try round and get on a fresh scent, I fancy,” said theson with a rather malicious smile.
“Still, I must ask you to humor me a little further. I shouldlike, for example, to see how far the windows of the bedroomscommand the front. This, I understand is your son’s room”—heMemoirs of Sherlock Holmes 755
pushed open the door—“and that, I presume is the dressing-roomin which he sat smoking when the alarm was given. Where doesthe window of that look out to?” He stepped across the bedroom,pushed open the door, and glanced round the other chamber.
“I hope that you are satisfied now?” said Mr. Cunningham,tartly.
“Thank you, I think I have seen all that I wished.”
“Then if it is really necessary we can go into my room.”
“If it is not too much trouble.”
The J. P. shrugged his shoulders and led the way into his ownchamber, which was a plainly furnished and commonplace room.
As we moved across it in the direction of the window, Holmes fellback until he and I were the last of the group. Near the foot ofthe bed stood a dish of oranges and a carafe of water. As we passedit Holmes, to my unutterable astonishment, leaned over in frontof me and deliberately knocked the whole thing over. The glasssmashed into a thousand pieces and the fruit rolled about intoevery corner of the room.
“You’ve done it now, Watson,” said he, coolly. “A pretty messyou’ve made of the carpet.”
I stooped in some confusion and began to pick up the fruit,understanding for some reason my companion desired me to takethe blame upon myself. The others did the same, and set the tableon its legs again.