“在刑事專傢看來，”福爾摩斯先生說，“自從莫裏亞蒂教授死了以後，倫敦變成了一座十分乏味的城市。”
　　 “我不認為會有很多正派的市民同意你的看法，”我回答說。
　　 “對，對，我不應該自私，”他笑着說，一面把他的椅子從餐桌旁挪開，“當然這對社會有好處，除了可憐的專傢無事可做以外，誰也沒受損失。在那個傢夥還活動的時候，你可以在每天的早報上看出大量可能發生的情況。而且，華生，常常衹是一點極小的綫索，一個最模糊的跡象，就足以告訴我這個惡毒的匪首在什麽地方；如同蛛網的邊緣稍有顫動，就使你想到潛伏在網中央的那衹可惡的蜘蛛。對掌握綫索的人來說，一切小的盜竊行為、任意的暴行、意圖不明的逞兇，都可以連成一個整體。對一個研究上層的學者來說，歐洲別的首都沒有具備過象倫敦當時所具有的那些有利條件。可是，現在……”他聳了聳肩，很幽默地表示對他自己花了不少氣力造成的現狀不滿。
　　 我現在談到的那個時候，福爾摩斯回國已經幾個月了。我依着他的請求，出讓了我的診所，搬回貝剋街我們合住過的舊寓所。有個姓弗納的年輕醫生買了我在肯辛頓開的小診所，他半點也沒猶豫就照我冒昧提出的最高價付了錢，使我感到奇怪。幾年以後，我發現弗納是福爾摩斯的遠親，錢實際上是他籌措的，這纔明白過來。
　　 在我們合作的那幾個月裏，日子過得並不象他所說的那樣平淡無奇。因為我大致翻看了一下我的筆記，就找出了在這個時啓發生的前穆裏羅總統文件案和荷蘭輪船“弗裏斯蘭”號的驚人事件，後者差點使我們兩人喪失性命。不過他那種冷靜、自重的性格，一嚮不喜歡任何形式的公開贊揚。他以最嚴格的規定來約束我不再說一句有關他本人、他的方法或是他的成功的話。我已經解釋過了，這項禁令衹是到現在纔被撤消。
　　 發完那一通古怪的議論之後，福爾摩斯先生往椅子背上一靠，悠閑地打開當天的早報，這時一陣嚇人的門鈴聲引起了我們的註意，緊跟着一陣咚咚的敲門聲，象是什麽人在用拳頭捶打大門。門開了，我聽見有人衝進過道和上樓梯的急促的腳步聲。沒過一會兒，一個臉色蒼白、頭髮散亂的年輕人，發狂似地闖進屋來。他兩眼充滿了激憤，全身都在顫抖。他來回看了看我們兩個。在我們疑問目光的註視下，他感到有必要為他這樣無禮地闖進來表示一下歉意。
　　 “對不起，福爾摩斯先生，”他大聲說，“您不要責怪我，我幾乎要瘋了。福爾摩斯先生，我就是那個倒黴的約翰·赫剋托·麥剋法蘭。”
　　 他作了這樣的自我介紹，似乎衹要一提他的姓名，就可以解釋他的訪問和訪問的方式；但是從我同伴毫無反應的臉上，我能看出這個姓名對他和我都一樣不說明什麽。
　　 “抽支煙吧，麥剋法蘭先生，”他說着把煙盒遞過去，“我相信我的朋友華生醫生會根據癥狀給你開一張鎮定劑的處方。最近這幾天天氣真夠熱的。現在如果你感到心定了些，請在那把椅子上坐下來，慢慢地告訴我們你是誰，有什麽事找我。你衹講了你的名字，好象我應該認得你，可是除了你是個單身漢、律師、共濟會會員、哮喘病患者這些顯而易見的事實以外，確實我對你一點也不瞭解。”
　　 由於我熟悉我朋友的方法，我很容易領會他的推理，並且看出是這位年輕人的不修邊幅、隨身帶的那一札文件、他表鏈上的護身符和他喘起的聲音使福爾摩斯作出了這些推測。可是這位年輕的委托人驚得目瞪口呆。
　　 “不錯，您說的就是我。除此以外，我現在還是全倫敦最不幸的人。看在老天的份上，您別不管我，福爾摩斯先生。要是在我沒有把話講完以前他們來逮捕我的話，務必請您告訴他們給我時間把全部事實告訴您。衹要我知道有您在外面為我奔走，我可以高高興興地走進監獄。”
　　 “逮捕你！”福爾摩斯說，“這的確太……太有意思了。那你會因為什麽罪被逮捕呢？”
　　 “謀殺下諾伍德的約納斯·奧德剋先生。”
　　 在我同伴富於表情的臉上，露出一種似乎多少帶點滿意的同情。
　　 “啊，”他說，“剛纔吃早飯的時候，我還對我的朋友華生醫生說一切轟動社會的案子已經從報上消失了呢。”
　　 我們的客人伸出一隻顫抖的手把仍在福爾摩斯膝蓋上放着的《每日電訊報》拿起來。
　　 “要是您看過這份報的話，先生，那您一眼就能看出我今天為什麽來找您了。我覺得好象人人都在談論着我的名字和我的災禍。”他把報翻到刊登重要新聞的那一版。“就在這兒。如果您允許的話，我給您念念。您聽這個，福爾摩斯先生。這是標題：‘下諾伍德的神秘案件——著名建築師失蹤——懷疑為謀殺縱火案——罪犯的綫索'，那就是他們正在追查的綫索，福爾摩斯先生。我知道它必然會引到我身上來。我在倫敦橋站一下車就被跟蹤了，他們衹是在等着對我發出逮捕證。這會使我母親傷心的——一定會使她傷心的！”在極度恐懼中，他使勁扭着自己的手，在椅子上來回搖晃。
　　 我註意看了看這個被控行兇的男子：他長着淡黃色的頭髮，面貌清秀，但顯得十分疲乏，兩衹藍色的眼睛帶着驚恐的神色，臉颳得淨光，神經質的嘴唇顯得優柔寡斷。他的年齡大約在二十歲左右，衣着和舉止都象個紳士。從他的淺色夏季外衣的口袋裏露出一捲簽註過的證書，說明了他的職業。
　　 “咱們得利用現在這段時間，”福爾摩斯說，“華生，請你把報拿起來念一念剛纔談到的那一段，好嗎？”
　　 就在我們的委托人引述過的大標題下面，有這樣一段帶暗示的敘述，我照着念道：
　　 “昨晚深夜或今日凌晨時，下諾伍德發生了一起意外事件，恐係嚴重犯罪行為。約納斯·奧德剋先生為該郊區頗有名氣之居民，經營建築業多年，因而致富。奧德剋先生係獨身，五十二歲，住錫登罕路盡頭之幽𠔌山莊，以習性怪僻出名，樸素沉默寡言，不愛交際，近幾年實已退出建築業，然宅後之貯木場仍在。昨夜十二點左右，貯木場發出火警，消防車不久即趕至現場，但因木燥火猛，無法撲救，直至整堆木料燒盡始熄。至此，起火原因似屬偶然，但另有跡象顯示或係嚴重犯罪行為。火災現場未見戶主，殊令人詫異。經查詢，始知戶主已失蹤。檢查臥室，床無人睡過，而保險櫃門已開，若幹重要文件散落滿地。最後發現室內曾發生激烈格鬥之跡象，並找到少量血跡及橡木手杖一根，柄上亦沾有血跡。現已查明，是夜奧德剋先生曾在臥室接待來客，該手杖即來客之物。此深夜來客為年輕律師約翰·赫剋托·麥剋法蘭先生，即中東區格萊沙姆大樓４２６號格雷姆——麥剋法蘭事務所之合夥人。警方相信已掌握能說明犯罪動機之有力證據。總之，此事件有驚人發展，則毋庸置疑。
　　 本報付印時，謠傳麥剋法蘭先生，因謀殺約納斯·奧德剋罪已被逮捕。逮捕證確已發出。正在諾伍德進行之調查又有不祥發展。在建築師所住樓下寢室裏，除有格鬥跡象外，現又發現法國式落地窗敞開，並有笨重物體從室內拖往木料堆的痕跡。最後在火場灰燼中找到被燒焦之殘骸一說已被肯定。按照警方推測，此乃一起極其驚人之兇案。受害者在寢室中被擊斃，文件被盜，屍體拖至木料堆焚燒滅跡。此案已交蘇格蘭場素有經驗之警官雷斯垂德進行調查，此刻渠正以其慣有之精力與機智追查綫索。”
　　 福爾摩斯合着眼，兩手指尖頂着指尖，聽了這起驚人的報道。
　　 “這件案子有幾點的確值得註意，”他慢吞吞地說，“麥剋法蘭先生，我想先問一問：既然看起來有足夠的證據可以逮捕你，怎麽你依然逍遙法外呢？”
　　 “福爾摩斯先生，我和父母同住在布萊剋希斯多林頓寓①所，但是昨晚因為有點事要替約納斯·奧德剋先生辦一辦，就在諾伍德一傢旅館裏住下來，從旅館去他傢把事情辦了。我是在火車上看到報上您剛纔聽過的那條新聞，纔知道諾伍德發生的事件。我立即看出自己的處境非常危險，就趕來把這件案子委托給您。我知道要是我在城裏的辦公室或在傢裏，準會給抓走了。有人從倫敦橋車站就跟住我，我一點都不懷疑——哎呀！什麽人來了？”
　　 那是門鈴響了，立即又從樓梯上傳來沉重的腳步聲。過了一會兒，我們的老朋友雷斯垂德出現在房門口。我從他身後一眼看見門外站着的兩名穿的。
　　 我們這位不幸的委托人站起身來，臉色發白。
　　 “由於你蓄意謀殺下諾伍德的約納斯·奧德剋先生，我現在逮捕你。”
　　 麥剋法蘭作出一個絶望的手勢嚮我們求援。
　　 “等一等，雷斯垂德。”福爾摩斯說，“再等半個小時左右不會對你有影響吧。這位紳士正要給我們講這樁非常有趣的事件的經過，這可能幫助我們把事情弄清楚。”
　　 “我覺得弄清楚它不會有睏難了，”雷斯垂德冷酷地說。
　　 “不過，如果你允許的話，我倒很有興趣聽他講。”
　　 “好吧，福爾摩斯先生，我很難拒絶你的任何要求，因為過去你給我們幫過一兩次忙，在我們蘇格蘭場這方面，還欠你一份情呢。”雷斯垂德說，“我必須同犯人在一起，而且還不得不警告他：凡是他說的話都會成為不利於他的證據。”
　　 “這再好不過了，”我們的委托人說，“我衹請求您一定要聽我講，並且明白我講的絶對是真話。”
　　 雷斯垂德看了一下他的表。“我給你半小時，”他說。
　　 “我必須先說明，”麥剋法蘭說，“我對約納斯·奧德剋先生一點都不瞭解。他的名字我熟悉，因為很多年以前我父母和他認識，但是他們後來疏遠了。因此，昨天下午，大約三點鐘，當他走進我城裏的辦公室的時候，我感到非常奇怪。在他說明了來意之後，我感到更加驚奇。他手裏拿着幾張從筆記本中撕下來的單頁，上面寫滿了很潦草的字——就是這幾張——把它放在我桌上。
　　 “'這是我的遺囑，'他說，'麥剋法蘭先生，我要你把它照正式法定的格式寫出來。你寫你的，我就在這坐着。'
　　 “我開始抄寫這份遺囑。當我看到他除有若幹保留外，把其餘的全部財産留給我的時候，您可以想象出來我的驚訝。他是個小雪貂似的怪人，長着全白的眉毛。我擡頭看他的時候，發現他那雙銳利的灰色眼睛正盯着我，臉上帶着一種開心的表情。當我讀到遺囑中那些條文的時候，我簡直不能相信我的眼睛，可是他解釋說，他是個沒有任何活着的親屬的單身漢，他在青年時期就認識我的父母，而且一直聽說我是個值得信任的年輕人，所以放心把他的錢交給我。當然，我衹能結結巴巴地說些感謝的話。遺囑照格式寫好了，簽了字，由我的書記當證人。就是這張藍紙上寫的。我已經說過，這些小紙條衹是草稿。奧德剋先生然後告訴我，還有一些字據——租約、房契、抵押憑據、臨時期證等等，應該讓我看看。他說衹有在這一些都辦完以後他纔放心，並且要我晚上就帶着這份遺囑去諾伍德，在他傢裏把所有的事情都安排一下。'記住，我的孩子，在這一切還沒有辦完以前，什麽話也不要對你父母說。咱們先不講，好給他們一個小小的意外之喜。'他非常堅持這一點，還要我答應一定做到。
　　 “您能想象出來，福爾摩斯先生，我當時無心拒絶他任何要求。他成了我的保護人，我一心想絲毫不差地實現他的願望。於是我給傢裏打了一個電報，說我手邊有要緊的事，不好估計我會呆到多晚纔回傢。奧德剋先生還告訴過我，他希望我能在九點鐘跟他一起吃晚飯，因為九點以前他可能還沒有到傢。可是，他住的地方很難找，我到他傢的時候快九點半了。我發現他……”
　　 “等一下！”福爾摩斯說，“是誰開的門？”
　　 “一個中年婦女，我猜是他的女管傢。”
　　 “把你的名字說出來的，我想就是她吧？”
　　 “不錯，”麥剋法蘭說。
　　 “請說下去。”
　　 麥剋法蘭擦了擦額頭上的汗，然後繼續講他這段經過：
　　 “這個婦女把我領進一間起居室，裏面已經擺好了簡單的晚飯。後來，約納斯·奧德剋先生帶我到他的臥室去，那裏立着一個保險櫃。他打開保險櫃，取出來一大堆文件。我們把這堆文件仔細看了一遍，直到十一點和十二點之間纔看完。他說我們不要打攪女管傢，就讓我從法國窗戶出去。那扇窗一直是開着的。”
　　 “窗簾放下來沒有？”福爾摩斯問。
　　 “我說不準，不過我想是放了一半下來。對，我記得他為了打開窗戶，把窗簾拉起來了。我找不到我的手杖，他說：'沒關係，我的孩子，我希望從現在起能經常見到你。我會把你的手杖收好，等你下次來取。'我離開他的時候，臥室裏的保險櫃是開着的，那些分成幾小包的字據還擺在桌上。已經那麽晚了，當然我回不去布萊剋希斯，就在安納利·阿姆斯旅館過了一夜。其他的我都不知道，一直到今天早晨纔從報上知道了這件可怕的事情。”
　　 “你還有別的要問嗎，福爾摩斯先生？”雷斯垂德說。在他聽年輕人講這段不平凡的經歷的時候，我見他有一兩次揚其他的眉毛來。
　　 “在我沒有去布萊剋希斯以前，沒什麽要問的了。”
　　 “你是說沒有去諾伍德以前吧，”雷斯垂德說。
　　 “啊，對了，我要說的是諾伍德，”福爾摩斯說，臉上帶着他那種高深莫測的微笑。雷斯垂德從多次經驗中知道福爾摩斯的腦子就象把鋒利的剃刀，能切開在他看來是堅不可破的東西。他衹是不願承認這一點。我見他好奇地看着我的同伴。
　　 “過會兒我想跟你說一兩句話，福爾摩斯先生，”他說，“好吧，麥剋法蘭先生，我的兩個警士就在門口，外面還有輛四輪馬車在等着。”這個可憐的年輕人站了起來，祈求地對我們看了最後一眼，從屋裏走出來。帶着他上了馬車，但雷斯垂德留下了。
　　 福爾摩斯正在看他拿在手裏的那幾頁遺囑草稿，臉上帶着極感興趣的樣子。
　　 “這份遺囑的確有些特點，雷斯垂德，你看呢？”他說着便把草稿遞過去。
　　 “我能看出頭幾行和第二頁中間幾句，還有最後一兩行。這些象印的一樣清楚，”他說，“其餘的都寫得不清楚。有三個地方我一點也認不出來。”
　　 “你怎麽解釋這一點？”福爾摩斯說。
　　 “你怎麽解釋呢？”
　　 “是在火車上寫的。清楚的部分說明火車停在站上，不清楚的部分說明火車在行駛，最不清楚的部分說明火車正經過道岔。有經驗的專傢能立刻斷定這是在一條郊區鐵路綫上寫出來的，因為衹有在大城市附近才能接二連三碰到道岔。假如他花了全旅程的時間來寫這份遺囑，那必定是一趟快車，在諾伍德和倫敦橋之間衹停過一次。”
　　 雷斯垂德笑了起來。
　　 “在分析問題上你比我強，福爾摩斯先生，”他說，“你說的這一點跟案子有什麽關係呢？”
　　 “它足以證實年輕人所談的這份遺囑是約納斯·奧德剋昨天在旅途中擬好的。一個人竟會以這樣隨便的方式來寫一份這麽重要的文件，豈非怪事？這說明他實際上並不重視這份遺囑。衹有根本不打算讓自己立的遺囑生效的人才會這樣做。”
　　 “這等於他同時給自己出了一張死刑判决書，”雷斯垂德說。
　　 “哦，你這樣想嗎？”
　　 “你不這樣想嗎？”
　　 “很可能，不過這件案子對我來說還不清楚。”
　　 “不清楚？如果這樣一件案子都不算是清楚的話，還有什麽能算是清楚的呢？有個年輕人忽然知道衹要某個老人一死，他就可以繼承一筆財産。他怎麽辦？他不告訴任何人，安排了某種藉口在當天昨上去拜訪他的委托人。一直等到全屋僅存的第三者睡了，在單獨的一間臥室裏他殺了委托人，把屍體放在木料堆裏焚燒，然後離開那裏去附近的旅館。臥室裏和手杖上的血跡都很少。可能他想象連這一點點血跡也不會留下，並且希望衹要屍體毀了，就可以掩蓋委托人如何斃命的一切痕跡，因為那些痕跡遲早要把他暴露出來。這不是很明顯嗎？”
　　 “我的好雷斯垂德，你所說的使我感到有點過於明顯，”福爾摩斯說，“你沒有把想象力加到你許多長處中去，但是，如果你能試試把自己擺在這個年輕人的地位上來看，你會挑選立遺囑的那個晚上去行兇嗎？你不覺得把立遺囑和行兇這兩件事連接得這麽緊是很危險的嗎？還有，你會選擇別人知道你在那裏、正是這傢的傭人開門讓你進屋的這樣一個時機嗎？還有最後一點，你會那麽煞費苦心地藏屍體，而又留下手杖作為暴露你是兇犯的證據嗎？雷斯垂德，你必須承認這些都是不可能的。”
　　 “至於那根手杖，福爾摩斯先生，你我都知道：一個罪犯總是慌慌張張的，往往幹出頭腦冷靜的人能避免的一些事情來。他很可能是不敢回那間屋裏去。你給我一個別的能符合事實的推測吧。”
　　 “我能夠很容易地給你舉出好幾個推測，”福爾摩斯說，“譬如，有這樣一個可能的、甚至是很可能的推測，我把它當禮物贈送給你。老人正在給年輕人看那些貴重的證券，因為窗簾衹放下了一半，一個過路的流浪漢在窗外看見了他們。年輕律師走了，流浪漢就進屋來，看到那根手杖，便抓起手杖把奧德剋打死，燒了屍體以後就跑了。”
　　 “為什麽流浪漢要燒掉屍體？”
　　 “就這點來說，為什麽麥剋法蘭是要這樣做呢？”
　　 “為了掩蓋一些證據。”
　　 “可能流浪漢想不叫人知道出了謀殺案。”
　　 “那為什麽流浪漢不拿東西呢？”
　　 “因為那些字據都是不能轉讓的。”
　　 “好吧，福爾摩斯先生，你可以去找你的流浪漢。在你找他的時候，我們不放走這個年輕人。將來會證明誰是對的。請註意這一點，福爾摩斯先生：就我們所知，字據一張都沒有動過。我們這個犯人根本沒有理由要拿走字據，因為他是法定繼承人，在任何情況下他都會得到這些字據。”
　　 我的朋友好象給這句話紮了一下。“我無意否認目前的證據在某些方面對你的推測非常有利，”他說，“我衹想指出還有其他可能的推測。就象你說的，將來會作出判斷。再見！大概今天我會順便去諾伍德，看看你進展得怎樣。”
　　 這位偵探走了，我的朋友從椅子上起來，帶着一個人面對合他興趣的任務時那種神情，為這天的工作做好準備。
　　 “華生，剛纔我說過，我第一個行動的方向必須是布萊剋希斯，”他說着一邊匆忙穿上他的長外衣。
　　 “為什麽不是諾伍德？”
　　 “我們在這個案子裏看到有兩件緊接着出現的怪事。當局正在犯這樣一個錯誤，就是他們把註意力集中在第二件怪事上，因為它恰巧確實是犯罪行為。但在我看來，顯然處理這個案子的合理途徑應該是從設法說明第一個事件着手，就是那張不尋常的遺囑。它立得那麽草率，又給了那麽一個意想不到的繼承人。這一點清楚了，可能下一步就好辦些。
　　 “親愛的朋友，我想你幫不上我的忙。我一個人不會有什麽危險的，否則我不會想到單獨行動。等我晚上見你的時候，我相信能夠告訴你我為了這個求我保護的小夥子已經做到了什麽。”
　　 我的朋友回來得很晚。從他憔悴、焦急的臉上，我一眼就看出他出發時所抱的希望落空了。他拉了一小時的提琴，琴聲單調而低沉，他竭力使自己的煩躁心情平靜下來。最後他猛地放下了提琴，開始詳細講他失敗的嘗試。
　　 “一切都錯了，華生，簡直錯到底了。我在雷斯垂德面前裝着不在乎，但從我本心說，我相信他這一回路子走對了，咱們卻走錯了。我的直覺指着這個方向，一切事實卻指着另一個方向。恐怕英國的陪審團的智力遠沒有達到這種高度，以致他們寧願接受我的假設而不要雷斯垂德的證據。”
　　 “你去了布萊剋希斯嗎？”
　　 “去了，華生。我到了那裏，很快就發現死去的奧德剋是個不可小看的惡棍。麥剋法蘭的父親出去找兒子了，他母親在傢。她是個藍眼睛、個子矮小、愚昧無知的婦女，恐懼和氣憤使她不停地發抖。當然，她認為她兒子簡直不可能犯罪，可是她對奧德剋的遭遇既不表示驚訝，也不表示惋惜。恰恰相反，她談起奧德剋時流露的那種深惡痛絶的樣子，等於她不自覺地在支持警方的理由。因為要是她兒子曾經聽過她這樣談論奧德剋的話，那就會自然而然使他産生憎恨和幹出暴行。'奧德剋以前與其說是人，倒不如說是個惡毒狡猾的怪物，'她說。'從年輕的時候起，他一直就是一個怪物。'
　　 “那時候您就認識他？'我說。
　　 “'是的，我很熟悉他。其實，他是最早嚮我求婚的一個。謝謝老天我還有眼力離開他，跟一個也許比他窮、但是比他好的人結了婚。在我和奧德剋訂婚以後，聽人講其他怎樣把一隻貓放進鳥捨裏去。他這種殘酷無情的舉動使我厭惡極了，再也不願跟他有任何往來。'她從寫字檯抽屜裏翻出一張女人的照片，臉部給刀劃得支離破碎。'這是我自己的相片，'她說，'在我結婚的那天上午，他為了詛咒我，把它弄成這樣給我寄來了。'
　　 “'不過，'我說，'至少他現在寬恕你了，因為他將全部財産都留給了你的兒子。'
　　 “'我兒子和我都不要約納斯·奧德剋任何東西，不管他是死是活，'她鄭重其事地大聲說，'天上有上帝呀，福爾摩斯先生。上帝已經懲罰了這個壞人，到時候上帝也會證明我兒子手上沒有沾他的血。'
　　 “我還試了追尋一兩個綫索，但是找不到有助於我們的假設的東西，有幾點恰恰同我們的假設相反。最後我放棄了，去了諾伍德。
　　 “幽𠔌莊這個地方是一所現代式的大別墅，全部用燒磚蓋成的，前面是庭園和種了一叢叢月桂樹的草坪。右邊是着過火的貯木場，從那裏到大路上還有一段距離。這是我在筆記本上畫的簡圖。左邊這扇窗戶是奧德剋的房間，站在這條路上就可以望到屋裏，你明白吧。雷斯垂德不在那兒，這是我今天得到的僅有的一點安慰，但是他的警長盡了主人之誼。他們剛發現了一個莫大的寶藏。他們在灰燼中尋找了一上午，除燒焦的有機體殘骸以外，還找到幾個變了色的金屬小圓片。我仔細檢查了這些圓片，原來是男褲鈕扣。我甚至還辨認出一粒鈕扣上的標記：'海安姆'，這是奧德剋的裁縫的姓。然後我仔細檢查草坪，希望找到別的痕跡和腳印，可是這場幹旱使一切東西都變得象鐵一樣堅硬，什麽也看不出來，衹看出象是一具屍體或是一捆什麽東西曾經被拖過一片水臘樹的矮籬笆，方向正對着木料堆。這些當然符合官方的推測。我在草坪上爬來爬去，背上曬着八月天的太陽，一小時以後我纔站起，還是跟去那裏以前一樣不明白。
　　 “在院子裏一無所獲，我就進屋去檢查那間臥室，裏面血跡很少，僅僅是沾上了些，但顔色新鮮。手杖已被人移動了，上面的血跡也很少。那根手杖的確是屬於麥剋法蘭的，他也承認了。地毯上可以看出他和奧德剋的腳印，但是沒有第三者的腳印，這又使警場贏上一着。他們的得分在往上加，咱們卻原地未動。
　　 “我看到過一點點希望，不過也落空了。我檢查了保險櫃裏的東西，其中大部分早已取出來在桌上放着。那些字據都封在封套裏，有一兩件已經給他們拆開了。在我看，那都是些沒有很大價值的東西；從銀行存折上也看不出奧德剋先生的境況有多富裕。但是我覺得並非所有的字據都在那裏。有幾處提到一些文憑——可能是更值錢的，但是我找不出來。當然，如果咱們能證明這一點，它就會使雷斯垂德的說法自相矛盾。難道會有人偷走他明知自己不久就要繼承的東西嗎？
　　 “我檢查了所有其它的地方，也沒找着綫索，最後不得不在女管傢身上碰碰運氣。勒剋辛頓太太是個矮個子，皮膚黑黑的，不多說話，有一雙多疑、斜着看人的眼睛。我相信衹要她肯說話，她能說出點什麽來，但她的嘴緊得象個蠟人一樣。是的，她在九點半的時候讓麥剋法蘭先生進來了。她後悔不該讓他進屋。她是十點半去睡的；她的房間在那一頭，聽不見這邊發生的事情。麥剋法蘭先生把他的帽子和一根她相信是他的手杖放在門廳裏。她給火警驚醒了。她的不幸的好主人肯定是被人謀害的。他有仇人嗎？唉，誰都有仇人，不過奧德剋先生很少同人往來，衹接見找他辦事的人。她看了那些鈕扣，並且斷定就是他昨晚穿的衣服上的。因為一個月沒有下雨，木料堆非常乾燥，所以燒得很快。她到了貯木場的時候，除一片烈火之處，什麽也看不見了。她和所有的救火員都聞到肉燒焦了的氣味。她一點不知道有什麽字據，也不知道奧德剋先生的私事。
　　 “喏，我親愛的華生，這就是我的失敗經過。但是……但是……”他突然握緊拳頭，好象恢復了自信，“我知道一切都不對。我確實感到全不對。還有點重要的情況，女管傢是知道的，可是問不出來。她那種慍怒、反抗的眼神，衹說明她自覺有罪。不過再多說也沒有用了。除非運氣找上門來，恐怕這件諾伍德的失蹤案不會在咱們的破案記錄中出現。我看耐心的公衆衹好容忍這一次。”
　　 “這個年輕人的外表一定會感動任何一個陪審團吧？”我說。
　　 “那是個危險的論點，我親愛的華生。你記得一八八七年那個想要咱們幫他開脫的大謀殺犯貝爾特·司蒂芬斯吧？你見過態度比他更溫和、更象主日學校的兒童似的年輕人嗎？”
　　 “這倒是真的。”
　　 “除非咱們能提出另一個可取的假設來，不然麥剋法蘭就算完了。在這個現在就可以對他提出控訴的案子中，你簡直找不出一點毛病。進一步調查的結果反倒加強了立案理由。我想起來了，那些字據中還有一點奇怪的地方，也許可以作為一次調查的起點。我在翻看銀行存折的時候，發現餘額無幾，主要因為過去一年裏有幾張大額支票開給了柯尼利亞斯先生。我很想知道跟這位退休的建築師有過這樣的大宗交易的柯尼利亞斯先生是什麽人。也許他和這件案子有關係？柯尼利亞斯先生可能是個掮客，但是我沒有找到和這幾筆大額付款相符的憑據。既然現在沒有別的跡象，我必須嚮銀行查詢那位把支票兌換成現款的紳士。但是，我的朋友，我擔心這件案子將不光彩地以雷斯垂德吊死咱們的委托人告結束，這對蘇格蘭場無疑會成為一次勝利。”
　　 我不知道那一夜福爾摩斯究竟睡了多久，但我下樓吃早飯的時候，見他臉色蒼白，滿面愁容，他那雙發亮的眼睛由於周圍的黑圈顯得更加明亮。在他的椅子附近的地毯上滿是煙頭和當天的早報。有一份電報攤在餐桌上。
　　 “你看這是什麽意思，華生？”他把電報扔過來問我。
　　 電報是從諾伍德來的，全文如下：
　　 新獲重要證據，麥剋法蘭罪行已定，奉勸放棄此案。
　　 雷斯垂德
　　 “聽起來象真的，”我說。
　　 “這是雷斯垂德自鳴得意的小勝利，”福爾摩斯回答說，臉上露出一絲苦笑。“不過，放棄這個案子也許還不到時候。不管怎樣，任何新的重要證據就象一把雙刃的刀，它可能不一定朝着是雷斯垂德猜想的方向切過去。先吃早飯吧，華生。咱們一塊兒出去看看有什麽可做的，今天我覺得好象需要你的陪伴和精神援助。”
　　 我的朋友自己卻沒有吃早飯。他在比較緊張的時候就不讓自己吃東西，這是他的一個特性。我見過他濫用自己的體力，直到由於營養不足而暈倒。“我現在勻不出精力來消化食物，”他總是以這句話來回答我從醫學的角度提出的勸告。因此，這天他沒吃早飯就和我出發去諾伍德，並不使我奇怪。有一群好奇的人圍在幽𠔌莊外，這所郊外的別墅和我想象的一樣。雷斯垂德在裏面迎接我們，勝利使他滿面紅光，樣子很得意。“啊，福爾摩斯先生，你已經證明我們錯了吧？你找到那個流浪漢沒有？”他高聲說。
　　 “我還沒有得出什麽結論，”我的同伴回答說。
　　 “可是我們昨天得出的結論，現在證明是對的，你得承認這次我們走在你前頭了，福爾摩斯先生。”
　　 “你的神氣確實象發生了不平常的事情。”
　　 雷斯垂德大笑起來。
　　 “你也和我們一樣不喜歡落在別人後面，”他說，“一個人不能指望事事如意，是不是這樣，華生醫生？先生們，請到這邊來。我想我能徹底說服你們本案的兇犯就是約翰·麥剋法蘭。”
　　 他領我們走出過道，來到那邊的一間昏暗的門廳。
　　 “這是年輕的麥剋法蘭作案後必定要來取他的帽子的地方，”他說。“現在你們看一看這個。”他突然戲劇性地劃亮了一根火柴，照出白灰墻上有一點血跡。當他把火柴湊近了些，我看見的不僅是血跡，而且是一個印得很清楚的大拇指紋。
　　 “用你的放大鏡看看吧，福爾摩斯先生。”
　　 “我正用放大鏡看着呢。”
　　 “你知道大拇指的指紋沒有兩個同樣的。”
　　 “我聽說過類似這樣的話。”
　　 “那好，請你把墻上的指紋和今天早上我命令從麥剋法蘭的右手大拇指上取來的蠟指紋比一比吧。”他把蠟指紋挨着血跡舉起來，這時候不用放大鏡也能看出確實都是由同一個大拇指上印出來的。很明顯我們這個不幸的委托人是沒希望了。
　　 “這是决定性的，”雷斯垂德說。
　　 “對，是决定性的，”我不由自主地附和他。
　　 “决定性的！”福爾摩斯說。我從他的語其中聽出了點什麽，便轉過頭來看着他。他的表情起了意外的變化，面部因暗暗自喜而不住地抽動，眼睛象星星一樣閃閃發光，似乎在竭力忍住一陣大笑。
　　 “哎！哎！”他終於說，“誰能想得到？光看外表多麽不可靠，這一點不假！看上去是那麽好的一個年輕人！這件事教訓我們不要相信自己的眼力，是不是，雷斯垂德？”
　　 “是的，咱們當中有的人就是有些過於自信，福爾摩斯先生。”雷斯垂德說。這個人的傲慢真令人生氣，但是我們說不出口來。
　　 “那位年輕人從挂釘上取下帽子的時候會用右手大拇指在墻上按一下，簡直是天意！多麽自然的一個動作，如果你仔細想一想。”福爾摩斯表面上很鎮靜，可是他說這話時，抑製不住的興奮使他全身都在顫動。
　　 “順便問一下，雷斯垂德，是誰作出這個驚人的發現的？”
　　 “是女管傢勒剋辛頓太太告訴夜勤警士的。”
　　 “夜勤警士當時在哪裏？”
　　 “他留在出事的那間臥室裏守着不讓動裏面的東西。”
　　 “但是為什麽你們昨天沒有發現這個血跡呢？”
　　 “嗯，我們當時沒有特殊理由要仔細檢查這間門廳。再說，你看，這個地方不大顯眼。”
　　 “對，對，當然是不大顯眼。我想很可能這血跡昨天就在墻上吧？”
　　 雷斯垂德望着福爾摩斯，仿佛他在想這人是不是瘋子。我承認連我對福爾摩斯那種高興的樣子和相當任性地表示意見也感到驚奇。
　　 “我不懂你是否認為麥剋法蘭為了增加自己的罪證，他深夜從監獄裏跑出來過，”雷斯垂德說，“我可以請世界上任何一位專傢來鑒定這是不是他的拇指印。”
　　 “毫無疑問，這是他的拇指印。”
　　 “那就夠了，”雷斯垂德說，“我是個註重實際的人，福爾摩斯先生，衹有在找到證據的時候我纔下結論。要是你還有什麽要說的，你可以在起居室找到我。我要在那裏寫我的報告。”
　　 福爾摩斯已經恢復了平靜，但我在他的表情中似乎仍舊看得出來他心裏覺得可笑。
　　 “哎，這是個很糟的發展，是不是，華生？不過這裏面有些奇妙之處，還給咱們的委托人留下幾分希望。”
　　 “你這樣講使我聽了很高興，”我由衷地說，“剛纔我覺得恐怕他沒有希望了。”
　　 “我就不願意說出這樣的話來，親愛的華生。事實上在咱們這位朋友極其重視的證據中，有一個十分嚴重的缺陷。”
　　 “真的？什麽缺陷？”
　　 “就是這點：我知道昨天我檢查門廳的時候，墻上並沒有血跡。華生，現在咱們到有太陽的地方去散散步吧。”
　　 我陪着我的朋友在花園裏散步；我的腦子很亂，心裏卻因為有了希望開始覺得有些熱呼呼的。福爾摩斯把別墅的每一面都按順序看了看，很有興趣地檢查了這所房子。然後他領頭走進屋裏。從地下室到閣樓，他把整個的建築都看到了。大多數的房間裏沒有傢具擺設。但是他仍然仔細地檢查了這些房間。最後到了頂層的走廊上，那裏有三間空閑的臥室，福爾摩斯突然又高興起來。
　　 “這件案子的確很有特點，華生，”他說，“我想現在是跟咱們的朋友雷斯垂德說真心話的時候了。他已經嘲笑過咱們，也許咱們也可以照樣回敬他，如果我對案子的判斷證明是對了的話。有了，有了，我想我知道咱們該采取什麽辦法。”
　　 福爾摩斯打擾這位蘇格蘭場警官的時候，他仍在起居室揮筆書寫。
　　 “我知道你在寫一份關於這件案子的報告，”他說。
　　 “我是在寫。”
　　 “你不認為有點為時過早嗎？我總覺得你的證據不足。”
　　 雷斯垂德很瞭解我的朋友，决不會不註意他的話。他把筆放下來，好奇地看着福爾摩斯。
　　 “你那是什麽意思，福爾摩斯先生？”
　　 “我衹是要說有一個重要的證人你還沒有見到。”
　　 “你能提出來嗎？”
　　 “我想我能做到。”
　　 “那就提出來吧。”
　　 “我盡力而為。你有幾個警士？”
　　 “能馬上召集來的有三個。”
　　 “好極了！”福爾摩斯說，“他們都是身體壯、嗓門大的吧？”
　　 “當然是，但是我不明白他們的嗓門跟這有什麽關係。”
　　 “也許我能幫助你弄明白這點和一兩個別的問題，”福爾摩斯說，“請把你的警士叫來，我要試一試。”
　　 過了五分鐘，三名警士已經集合在大廳裏了。
　　 “外面的小屋裏有一大堆麥稭，”福爾摩斯說，“請你們搬兩捆進來。我看這點麥稭可以幫個大忙把我需要的證人找來。謝謝你們。華生，我相信你口袋裏有火柴。現在，雷斯垂德先生，請你們都陪我到頂層樓梯的平臺上去。”
　　 我已經說過，那三間空着的臥室外面有一條很寬的走廊。福爾摩斯把我們都集合在走廊的一頭。三名警士在咧着嘴笑；雷斯垂德望着我的朋友，臉上交替地流露出驚奇、期待和譏笑。福爾摩斯站在我們前面，神氣活象個在變戲法的魔術傢。
　　 “請你派一位警士去提兩桶水來好嗎？把那兩捆麥稭放在這裏，不要挨着墻。現在我看一切都準備好了。”
　　 雷斯垂德的臉已經開始變紅。他生氣了。
　　 “我不明白你是否在跟我們開玩笑，歇洛剋·福爾摩斯先生，”他說，“如果你知道些什麽，你滿可以講出來，用不着做這種毫無意義的舉動。”
　　 “我嚮你保證，我的好雷斯垂德，我做每一件事情都是有完全理由的。你可能記得幾小時以前你好象是占了上風的時候，你跟我開了點玩笑，那末現在你就別不讓我來點排場呀。華生，你先開窗戶，然後劃根火柴把麥稭點着，可以嗎？”
　　 我照他的話做了。燒着的幹麥稭噼啪作響，冒出了火焰，一股白煙給穿堂風吹得在走廊裏繚繞。
　　 “現在咱們看看能不能給你找出那個證人來，雷斯垂德。請各位跟我一起喊'着火了'好嗎？來吧，一，二，三——”
　　 “着火啦！”我們都高聲叫喊。
　　 “謝謝。請你們再來一下。”
　　 “着火啦！”
　　 “先生們，還要來一次，一起喊。”
　　 “着火啦！”這一聲大概全諾伍德都聽到了。
　　 喊聲剛落，就發生了驚人的事情。在走廊盡頭的那堵看起來是完整的墻上，突然打開了一扇門，一個矮小、幹瘦的人從門裏衝出來，象是一隻兔子從它的地洞裏蹦了出來似的。
　　 “好極了！”福爾摩斯沉着地說，“華生，往麥稭上澆一桶水。這就行啦！雷斯垂德，請允許我給你介紹。這就是你們的那個失蹤的主要證人約納斯·奧德剋先生。”
　　 雷斯垂德十分吃驚地望着這個陌生人。走廊的亮光晃得他不停地眨眼。他盯着看看我們，又看看仍在冒煙的火堆。那是一張可憎的臉：狡詐，，兇狠，長着兩衹多疑的、淺灰色的眼睛。
　　 “這是怎麽回事？”雷斯垂德終於說話了，“你這些時候在幹什麽？”
　　 奧德剋看見這個偵探發怒的樣子害怕了，不自然地笑了一聲。
　　 “我又沒害人。”
　　 “沒害人嗎？你想盡了辦法要把一個無辜者送上絞架。要不是有這位先生的話，說不定你就幹成了。”
　　 這個壞傢夥開始抽噎起來。
　　 “說實話，先生，我衹是開了個玩笑。”
　　 “啊！這是玩笑嗎？我包你笑不出來。把他帶下去，留在起居室裏等我來。”
　　 三個警士把奧德剋帶走後，雷斯垂德接着說：“福爾摩斯先生，剛纔當着警士面前我不便說，但是在華生醫生面前，我不怕承認這是你做得最出色的一件事，雖然我想不出來你是怎樣做的。你救了一個無辜者的性命，並且避免了一場會毀掉我在警界聲譽的醜聞。”
　　 福爾摩斯微笑着拍了拍雷斯垂德的肩膀。
　　 “不但無損於你的聲譽，我的好先生，你反而會看到你的名聲大增呢。衹要把你寫的報告稍加改動，他們就覺得要想蒙騙雷斯垂德巡官的眼睛有多麽難哪。”
　　 “那你不希望報告中有你的名字？”
　　 “一點也不。工作就是奬賞。等將來我允許這位熱心的歷史學家再拿起筆的時候，或許我也會受到稱贊——嗯，華生？好吧，現在讓咱們看看這衹耗子隱藏的地方。”
　　 離這條過道的盡頭六英尺的地方，曾經用抹過灰的板條隔出來一小間，隔墻上巧妙地安裝了一扇暗門。小間全靠屋檐縫隙中透過來一點光照明，裏面有幾件傢具，還存了食物和水，同一些書、報紙放在一起。
　　 在我們往外走的時候，福爾摩斯說：“這是建築師的有利條件。他能給自己準備一間密室而不需要任何幫手——當然，他那個女管傢除外。我應該馬上把她也放進你的獵囊。”
　　 “我接受你的意見。可是你怎麽知道這個地方，福爾摩斯先生？”
　　 “我先斷定他就藏在屋裏。當我第一次走過這條走廊的時候，發現它比樓下那條同樣的走廊短了六英尺，這一來他藏的地方就十分清楚了。我也料到他沒有勇氣能在火警面前呆着不動。當然，我們也可以進去把他抓住，但是我覺得逼他出來更有趣。再說，雷斯垂德，上午你戲弄了我，也該我來迷惑你一下作為回敬了。”
　　 “嗯，先生，你的確嚮我報復了。但是你究竟是怎麽知道他藏在屋裏的呢？”
　　 “那個拇指印，雷斯垂德。你當時說它是决定性的。在完全不同的意義上，它真是决定性的。我知道前天那裏並沒有這個指印。我對細節非常註意，這一點你也許知道；而且那天我檢查過大廳，墻上確實什麽也沒有。因此，指印是後來在夜裏按上去的。”
　　 “但是怎麽按上去的呢？”
　　 “很簡單。那天晚上他們把分成小包的字據用火漆封口的時候，約納斯·奧德剋叫麥剋法蘭用大拇指在其中的一個封套上的熱火漆上按一下使它粘牢。這個年輕人很快而且很自然地這樣做了，我相信連他自己也忘了這件事。很可能這是碰巧發生的事，奧德剋本人當時並沒有想要利用它。後來他在密室裏盤算這件案子的時候，忽然想到他可以利用這個指印製造一個可以證明麥剋法蘭有罪的確證。他衹要從那個火漆印上取個蠟模，用針刺出足夠的血塗在模子上面，然後夜裏親自或者叫女管傢把印按在墻上就行了。這是天下最簡單的事情。如把他帶進密室的那些文件檢查一遍，你準能找到那個有指紋的火漆印，這我可以打賭。”
　　 “妙極了！”雷斯垂德說，“妙極了！經你這樣一講，一切都清清楚楚了。但是，福爾摩斯先生，這個局的目的又是什麽呢？”
　　 我看見這位態度傲慢的偵探忽然變得象個小孩在問他老師問題一樣，真是有趣。
　　 “這個我認為不難解釋。正在樓下等着的這位紳士是個很狡猾、惡毒、記仇的人。你知道麥剋法蘭的母親從前拒絶過他的求婚嗎？你不知道？我早對你說過應該先去布萊剋希斯，然後去諾伍德。後來，這種感情上的傷害在他的詭詐的心裏産生了怨恨，他終生渴望報復，但沒有找到機會。最近一兩年裏，情況變得對他不利——大概是暗中從事投機生意失敗，他發現自己的處境不妙。他决心要騙其他所有的債主。為了達到這個目的，他給某個柯尼利亞斯先生開出了大額支票。我猜想這個人就是他自己，用了另一個名字。我還沒有追查過這些支票，但是我相信這些支票全都用那個名字存進了外地一個小鎮的銀行，奧德剋時常去那個小鎮過一種雙重人格的生活。他打算將來改名換姓，把這筆錢取出來，然後去別的地方重新開始一切。”
　　 “嗯，完全可能。”
　　 “在他想來，假如他能做出這樣一個假象，就是他被舊情人的獨子謀殺了，他就可以銷聲匿跡，同時又對他的舊情人進行了報復。這個惡毒計謀真是個傑作，他象個大師一樣把它實現了。為了造成一個明顯的犯罪動機而寫的那張遺囑，要麥剋法蘭瞞着父母私下來見他，故意留藏下手杖，臥室裏的血跡，木料堆中的動物屍骨和鈕扣——這一切都令人驚嘆。他布下的這張羅網，在幾小時前看來仍然牢固，但是他缺少藝術傢所具有的那種懂得什麽時候停住的至高天賦。他畫蛇添足，想把已經套在這個不幸的年輕人脖子上的繩索拉得更緊一些，結果他把一切都毀了。咱們下樓去吧，雷斯垂德。我還有一兩個問題要問問他。”
　　 那個惡棍在自己的起居室裏坐着，兩旁各站着一個。
　　 “那是一個玩笑，我的好先生——一個惡作劇，沒有別的用意，”他不停地哀告，“我嚮你保證，先生，我把自己藏起來衹是為了知道我的失蹤會帶來什麽影響。我相信你不至於認為我會讓年輕的麥剋法蘭先生受到任何傷害吧。”
　　 “那要由陪審團來决定，”雷斯垂德說，“不管怎樣，即使不是謀殺未遂，我們也要控告你密謀罪。”
　　 “你大概就要看到你的債主要求銀行凍結柯尼利亞斯先生的存款了，”福爾摩斯說。
　　 奧德剋吃了一驚，轉過頭來惡狠狠地看着我的朋友。
　　 “我得多謝你啦，”他說，“也許總有一天我會報答你的恩惠。”
　　 福爾摩斯不計較地微笑了一下。
　　 “我想今後幾年裏你不會有時間幹別的了，”他說，“順便問一下，除了你的褲子以外，你還把什麽丟進了木料堆？一條死狗？幾衹兔子？或者是別的東西？你不願意說出來？哎，你多不客氣呀！沒關係，我想有兩衹兔子就足夠解釋那些血跡和燒黑了的骨灰了。華生，如果你要寫一篇經過的話，你不妨說是兔子吧。”

　　"FROM the point of view of the criminal expert," said Mr. Sherlock Holmes, "London has become a singularly uninteresting city since the death of the late lamented Professor Moriarty."
　　
　　"I can hardly think that you would find many decent citizens to agree with you," I answered.
　　
　　"Well, well, I must not be selfish," said he, with a smile, as he pushed back his chair from the breakfast-table. "The community is certainly the gainer, and no one the loser, save the poor out-of-work specialist, whose occupation has gone. With that man in the field one's morning paper presented infinite possibilities. Often it was only the smallest trace, Watson, the faintest indication, and yet it was enough to tell me that the great malignant brain was there, as the gentlest tremors of the edges of the web remind one of the foul spider which lurks in the centre. Petty thefts, wanton assaults, purposeless outrage -- to the man who held the clue all could be worked into one connected whole. To the scientific student of the higher criminal world no capital in Europe offered the advantages which London then possessed. But now ----" He shrugged his shoulders in humorous deprecation of the state of things which he had himself done so much to produce.
　　
　　At the time of which I speak Holmes had been back for some months, and I, at his request, had sold my practice and returned to share the old quarters in Baker Street. A young doctor, named Verner, had purchased my small Kensington practice, and given with astonishingly little demur the highest price that I ventured to ask -- an incident which only explained itself some years later when I found that Verner was a distant relation of Holmes's, and that it was my friend who had really found the money.
　　
　　Our months of partnership had not been so uneventful as he had stated, for I find, on looking over my notes, that this period includes the case of the papers of Ex-President Murillo, and also the shocking affair of the Dutch steamship FRIESLAND, which so nearly cost us both our lives. His cold and proud nature was always averse, however, to anything in the shape of public applause, and he bound me in the most stringent terms to say no further word of himself, his methods, or his successes -- a prohibition which, as I have explained, has only now been removed.
　　
　　Mr. Sherlock Holmes was leaning back in his chair after his whimsical protest, and was unfolding his morning paper in a leisurely fashion, when our attention was arrested by a tremendous ring at the bell, followed immediately by a hollow drumming sound, as if someone were beating on the outer door with his fist. As it opened there came a tumultuous rush into the hall, rapid feet clattered up the stair, and an instant later a wild-eyed and frantic young man, pale, dishevelled, and palpitating, burst into the room. He looked from one to the other of us, and under our gaze of inquiry he became conscious that some apology was needed for this unceremonious entry.
　　
　　"I'm sorry, Mr. Holmes," he cried. "You mustn't blame me. I am nearly mad. Mr. Holmes, I am the unhappy John Hector McFarlane."
　　
　　He made the announcement as if the name alone would explain both his visit and its manner; but I could see by my companion's unresponsive face that it meant no more to him than to me.
　　
　　"Have a cigarette, Mr. McFarlane," said he, pushing his case across. "I am sure that with your symptoms my friend Dr. Watson here would prescribe a sedative. The weather has been so very warm these last few days. Now, if you feel a little more composed, I should be glad if you would sit down in that chair and tell us very slowly and quietly who you are and what it is that you want. You mentioned your name as if I should recognise it, but I assure you that, beyond the obvious facts that you are a bachelor, a solicitor, a Freemason, and an asthmatic, I know nothing whatever about you."
　　
　　Familiar as I was with my friend's methods, it was not difficult for me to follow his deductions, and to observe the untidiness of attire, the sheaf of legal papers, the watch-charm, and the breathing which had prompted them. Our client, however, stared in amazement.
　　
　　"Yes, I am all that, Mr. Holmes, and in addition I am the most unfortunate man at this moment in London. For Heaven's sake don't abandon me, Mr. Holmes! If they come to arrest me before I have finished my story, make them give me time so that I may tell you the whole truth. I could go to gaol happy if I knew that you were working for me outside."
　　
　　"Arrest you!" said Holmes. "This is really most grati -- most interesting. On what charge do you expect to be arrested?"
　　
　　"Upon the charge of murdering Mr. Jonas Oldacre, of Lower Norwood."
　　
　　My companion's expressive face showed a sympathy which was not, I am afraid, entirely unmixed with satisfaction.
　　
　　"Dear me," said he; "it was only this moment at breakfast that I was saying to my friend, Dr. Watson, that sensational cases had disappeared out of our papers."
　　
　　Our visitor stretched forward a quivering hand and picked up the DAILY TELEGRAPH, which still lay upon Holmes's knee.
　　
　　"If you had looked at it, sir, you would have seen at a glance what the errand is on which I have come to you this morning. I feel as if my name and my misfortune must be in every man's mouth." He turned it over to expose the central page. "Here it is, and with your permission I will read it to you. Listen to this, Mr. Holmes. The head-lines are: `Mysterious Affair at Lower Norwood. Disappearance of a Well-known Builder. Suspicion of Murder and Arson. A Clue to the Criminal.' That is the clue which they are already following, Mr. Holmes, and I know that it leads infallibly to me. I have been followed from London Bridge Station, and I am sure that they are only waiting for the warrant to arrest me. It will break my mother's heart -- it will break her heart!" He wrung his hands in an agony of apprehension, and swayed backwards and forwards in his chair.
　　
　　I looked with interest upon this man, who was accused of being the perpetrator of a crime of violence. He was flaxen-haired and handsome in a washed-out negative fashion, with frightened blue eyes and a clean-shaven face, with a weak, sensitive mouth. His age may have been about twenty-seven; his dress and bearing that of a gentleman. From the pocket of his light summer overcoat protruded the bundle of endorsed papers which proclaimed his profession.
　　
　　"We must use what time we have," said Holmes. "Watson, would you have the kindness to take the paper and to read me the paragraph in question?"
　　
　　Underneath the vigorous head-lines which our client had quoted I read the following suggestive narrative:---
　　
　　Late last night, or early this morning, an incident occurred at Lower Norwood which points, it is feared, to a serious crime. Mr. Jonas Oldacre is a well-known resident of that suburb, where he has carried on his business as a builder for many years. Mr. Oldacre is a bachelor, fifty-two years of age, and lives in Deep Dene House, at the Sydenham end of the road of that name. He has had the reputation of being a man of eccentric habits, secretive and retiring. For some years he has practically withdrawn from the business, in which he is said to have amassed considerable wealth. A small timber-yard still exists, however, at the back of the house, and last night, about twelve o'clock, an alarm was given that one of the stacks was on fire. The engines were soon upon the spot, but the dry wood burned with great fury, and it was impossible to arrest the conflagration until the stack had been entirely consumed. Up to this point the incident bore the appearance of an ordinary accident, but fresh indications seem to point to serious crime. Surprise was expressed at the absence of the master of the establishment from the scene of the fire, and an inquiry followed, which showed that he had disappeared from the house. An examination of his room revealed that the bed had not been slept in, that a safe which stood in it was open, that a number of important papers were scattered about the room, and, finally, that there were signs of a murderous struggle, slight traces of blood being found within the room, and an oaken walking-stick, which also showed stains of blood upon the handle. It is known that Mr. Jonas Oldacre had received a late visitor in his bedroom upon that night, and the stick found has been identified as the property of this person, who is a young London solicitor named John Hector McFarlane, junior partner of Graham and McFarlane, of 426, Gresham Buildings, E.C. The police believe that they have evidence in their possession which supplies a very convincing motive for the crime, and altogether it cannot be doubted that sensational developments will follow.
　　
　　LATER. -- It is rumoured as we go to press that Mr. John Hector McFarlane has actually been arrested on the charge of the murder of Mr. Jonas Oldacre. It is at least certain that a warrant has been issued. There have been further and sinister developments in the investigation at Norwood. Besides the signs of a struggle in the room of the unfortunate builder it is now known that the French windows of his bedroom (which is on the ground floor) were found to be open, that there were marks as if some bulky object had been dragged across to the wood-pile, and, finally, it is asserted that charred remains have been found among the charcoal ashes of the fire. The police theory is that a most sensational crime has been committed, that the victim was clubbed to death in his own bedroom, his papers rifled, and his dead body dragged across to the wood-stack, which was then ignited so as to hide all traces of the crime. The conduct of the criminal investigation has been left in the experienced hands of Inspector Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, who is following up the clues with his accustomed energy and sagacity.
　　
　　Sherlock Holmes listened with closed eyes and finger-tips together to this remarkable account.
　　
　　"The case has certainly some points of interest," said he, in his languid fashion. "May I ask, in the first place, Mr. McFarlane, how it is that you are still at liberty, since there appears to be enough evidence to justify your arrest?"
　　
　　"I live at Torrington Lodge, Blackheath, with my parents, Mr. Holmes; but last night, having to do business very late with Mr. Jonas Oldacre, I stayed at an hotel in Norwood, and came to my business from there. I knew nothing of this affair until I was in the train, when I read what you have just heard. I at once saw the horrible danger of my position, and I hurried to put the case into your hands. I have no doubt that I should have been arrested either at my City office or at my home. A man followed me from London Bridge Station, and I have no doubt --- Great Heaven, what is that?"
　　
　　It was a clang of the bell, followed instantly by heavy steps upon the stair. A moment later our old friend Lestrade appeared in the doorway. Over his shoulder I caught a glimpse of one or two uniformed policemen outside.
　　
　　"Mr. John Hector McFarlane?" said Lestrade.
　　
　　Our unfortunate client rose with a ghastly face.
　　
　　"I arrest you for the wilful murder of Mr. Jonas Oldacre, of Lower Norwood."
　　
　　McFarlane turned to us with a gesture of despair, and sank into his chair once more like one who is crushed.
　　
　　"One moment, Lestrade," said Holmes. "Half an hour more or less can make no difference to you, and the gentleman was about to give us an account of this very interesting affair, which might aid us in clearing it up."
　　
　　"I think there will be no difficulty in clearing it up," said Lestrade, grimly.
　　
　　"None the less, with your permission, I should be much interested to hear his account."
　　
　　"Well, Mr. Holmes, it is difficult for me to refuse you anything, for you have been of use to the force once or twice in the past, and we owe you a good turn at Scotland Yard," said Lestrade. "At the same time I must remain with my prisoner, and I am bound to warn him that anything he may say will appear in evidence against him."
　　
　　"I wish nothing better," said our client. "All I ask is that you should hear and recognise the absolute truth."
　　
　　Lestrade looked at his watch. "I'll give you half an hour," said he.
　　
　　"I must explain first," said McFarlane, "that I knew nothing of Mr. Jonas Oldacre. His name was familiar to me, for many years ago my parents were acquainted with him, but they drifted apart. I was very much surprised, therefore, when yesterday, about three o'clock in the afternoon, he walked into my office in the City. But I was still more astonished when he told me the object of his visit. He had in his hand several sheets of a note-book, covered with scribbled writing -- here they are -- and he laid them on my table.
　　
　　"`Here is my will,' said he. `I want you, Mr. McFarlane, to cast it into proper legal shape. I will sit here while you do so.'
　　
　　"I set myself to copy it, and you can imagine my astonishment when I found that, with some reservations, he had left all his property to me. He was a strange little, ferret-like man, with white eyelashes, and when I looked up at him I found his keen grey eyes fixed upon me with an amused expression. I could hardly believe my own senses as I read the terms of the will; but he explained that he was a bachelor with hardly any living relation, that he had known my parents in his youth, and that he had always heard of me as a very deserving young man, and was assured that his money would be in worthy hands. Of course, I could only stammer out my thanks. The will was duly finished, signed, and witnessed by my clerk. This is it on the blue paper, and these slips, as I have explained, are the rough draft. Mr. Jonas Oldacre then informed me that there were a number of documents -- building leases, title-deeds, mortgages, scrip, and so forth -- which it was necessary that I should see and understand. He said that his mind would not be easy until the whole thing was settled, and he begged me to come out to his house at Norwood that night, bringing the will with me, and to arrange matters. `Remember, my boy, not one word to your parents about the affair until everything is settled. We will keep it as a little surprise for them.' He was very insistent upon this point, and made me promise it faithfully.
　　
　　"You can imagine, Mr. Holmes, that I was not in a humour to refuse him anything that he might ask. He was my benefactor, and all my desire was to carry out his wishes in every particular. I sent a telegram home, therefore, to say that I had important business on hand, and that it was impossible for me to say how late I might be. Mr. Oldacre had told me that he would like me to have supper with him at nine, as he might not be home before that hour. I had some difficulty in finding his house, however, and it was nearly half-past before I reached it. I found him ---"
　　
　　"One moment!" said Holmes. "Who opened the door?"
　　
　　"A middle-aged woman, who was, I suppose, his housekeeper."
　　
　　"And it was she, I presume, who mentioned your name?"
　　
　　"Exactly," said McFarlane.
　　
　　"Pray proceed."
　　
　　McFarlane wiped his damp brow and then continued his narrative:--
　　
　　"I was shown by this woman into a sitting-room, where a frugal supper was laid out. Afterwards Mr. Jonas Oldacre led me into his bedroom, in which there stood a heavy safe. This he opened and took out a mass of documents, which we went over together. It was between eleven and twelve when we finished. He remarked that we must not disturb the housekeeper. He showed me out through his own French window, which had been open all this time."
　　
　　"Was the blind down?" asked Holmes.
　　
　　"I will not be sure, but I believe that it was only half down. Yes, I remember how he pulled it up in order to swing open the window. I could not find my stick, and he said, `Never mind, my boy; I shall see a good deal of you now, I hope, and I will keep your stick until you come back to claim it.' I left him there, the safe open, and the papers made up in packets upon the table. It was so late that I could not get back to Blackheath, so I spent the night at the Anerley Arms, and I knew nothing more until I read of this horrible affair in the morning."
　　
　　"Anything more that you would like to ask, Mr. Holmes?" said Lestrade, whose eyebrows had gone up once or twice during this remarkable explanation.
　　
　　"Not until I have been to Blackheath."
　　
　　"You mean to Norwood," said Lestrade.
　　
　　"Oh, yes; no doubt that is what I must have meant," said Holmes, with his enigmatical smile. Lestrade had learned by more experiences than he would care to acknowledge that that razor-like brain could cut through that which was impenetrable to him. I saw him look curiously at my companion.
　　
　　"I think I should like to have a word with you presently, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said he. "Now, Mr. McFarlane, two of my constables are at the door and there is a four-wheeler waiting." The wretched young man arose, and with a last beseeching glance at us walked from the room. The officers conducted him to the cab, but Lestrade remained.
　　
　　Holmes had picked up the pages which formed the rough draft of the will, and was looking at them with the keenest interest upon his face.
　　
　　"There are some points about that document, Lestrade, are there not?" said he, pushing them over.
　　
　　The official looked at them with a puzzled expression.
　　
　　"I can read the first few lines, and these in the middle of the second page, and one or two at the end. Those are as clear as print," said he; "but the writing in between is very bad, and there are three places where I cannot read it at all."
　　
　　"What do you make of that?" said Holmes.
　　
　　"Well, what do YOU make of it?"
　　
　　"That it was written in a train; the good writing represents stations, the bad writing movement, and the very bad writing passing over points. A scientific expert would pronounce at once that this was drawn up on a suburban line, since nowhere save in the immediate vicinity of a great city could there be so quick a succession of points. Granting that his whole journey was occupied in drawing up the will, then the train was an express, only stopping once between Norwood and London Bridge."
　　
　　Lestrade began to laugh.
　　
　　"You are too many for me when you begin to get on your theories, Mr. Holmes," said he. "How does this bear on the case?"
　　
　　"Well, it corroborates the young man's story to the extent that the will was drawn up by Jonas Oldacre in his journey yesterday. It is curious -- is it not? -- that a man should draw up so important a document in so haphazard a fashion. It suggests that he did not think it was going to be of much practical importance. If a man drew up a will which he did not intend ever to be effective he might do it so."
　　
　　"Well, he drew up his own death-warrant at the same time," said Lestrade.
　　
　　"Oh, you think so?"
　　
　　"Don't you?"
　　
　　"Well, it is quite possible; but the case is not clear to me yet."
　　
　　"Not clear? Well, if that isn't clear, what COULD be clear? Here is a young man who learns suddenly that if a certain older man dies he will succeed to a fortune. What does he do? He says nothing to anyone, but he arranges that he shall go out on some pretext to see his client that night; he waits until the only other person in the house is in bed, and then in the solitude of a man's room he murders him, burns his body in the wood-pile, and departs to a neighbouring hotel. The blood-stains in the room and also on the stick are very slight. It is probable that he imagined his crime to be a bloodless one, and hoped that if the body were consumed it would hide all traces of the method of his death -- traces which for some reason must have pointed to him. Is all this not obvious?"
　　
　　"It strikes me, my good Lestrade, as being just a trifle too obvious," said Holmes. "You do not add imagination to your other great qualities; but if you could for one moment put yourself in the place of this young man, would you choose the very night after the will had been made to commit your crime? Would it not seem dangerous to you to make so very close a relation between the two incidents? Again, would you choose an occasion when you are known to be in the house, when a servant has let you in? And, finally, would you take the great pains to conceal the body and yet leave your own stick as a sign that you were the criminal? Confess, Lestrade, that all this is very unlikely."
　　
　　"As to the stick, Mr. Holmes, you know as well as I do that a criminal is often flurried and does things which a cool man would avoid. He was very likely afraid to go back to the room. Give me another theory that would fit the facts."
　　
　　"I could very easily give you half-a-dozen," said Holmes. "Here, for example, is a very possible and even probable one. I make you a free present of it. The older man is showing documents which are of evident value. A passing tramp sees them through the window, the blind of which is only half down. Exit the solicitor. Enter the tramp! He seizes a stick, which he observes there, kills Oldacre, and departs after burning the body."
　　
　　"Why should the tramp burn the body?"
　　
　　"For the matter of that why should McFarlane?"
　　
　　"To hide some evidence."
　　
　　"Possibly the tramp wanted to hide that any murder at all had been committed."
　　
　　"And why did the tramp take nothing?"
　　
　　"Because they were papers that he could not negotiate."
　　
　　Lestrade shook his head, though it seemed to me that his manner was less absolutely assured than before.
　　
　　"Well, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, you may look for your tramp, and while you are finding him we will hold on to our man. The future will show which is right. Just notice this point, Mr. Holmes: that so far as we know none of the papers were removed, and that the prisoner is the one man in the world who had no reason for removing them, since he was heir-at-law and would come into them in any case."
　　
　　My friend seemed struck by this remark.
　　
　　"I don't mean to deny that the evidence is in some ways very strongly in favour of your theory," said he. "I only wish to point out that there are other theories possible. As you say, the future will decide. Good morning! I dare say that in the course of the day I shall drop in at Norwood and see how you are getting on."
　　
　　When the detective departed my friend rose and made his preparations for the day's work with the alert air of a man who has a congenial task before him.
　　
　　"My first movement, Watson," said he, as he bustled into his frock-coat, "must, as I said, be in the direction of Blackheath."
　　
　　"And why not Norwood?"
　　
　　"Because we have in this case one singular incident coming close to the heels of another singular incident. The police are making the mistake of concentrating their attention upon the second, because it happens to be the one which is actually criminal. But it is evident to me that the logical way to approach the case is to begin by trying to throw some light upon the first incident -- the curious will, so suddenly made, and to so unexpected an heir. It may do something to simplify what followed. No, my dear fellow, I don't think you can help me. There is no prospect of danger, or I should not dream of stirring out without you. I trust that when I see you in the evening I will be able to report that I have been able to do something for this unfortunate youngster who has thrown himself upon my protection."
　　
　　It was late when my friend returned, and I could see by a glance at his haggard and anxious face that the high hopes with which he had started had not been fulfilled. For an hour he droned away upon his violin, endeavouring to soothe his own ruffled spirits. At last he flung down the instrument and plunged into a detailed account of his misadventures.
　　
　　"It's all going wrong, Watson -- all as wrong as it can go. I kept a bold face before Lestrade, but, upon my soul, I believe that for once the fellow is on the right track and we are on the wrong. All my instincts are one way and all the facts are the other, and I much fear that British juries have not yet attained that pitch of intelligence when they will give the preference to my theories over Lestrade's facts."
　　
　　"Did you go to Blackheath?"
　　
　　"Yes, Watson, I went there, and I found very quickly that the late lamented Oldacre was a pretty considerable black-guard. The father was away in search of his son. The mother was at home -- a little, fluffy, blue-eyed person, in a tremor of fear and indignation. Of course, she would not admit even the possibility of his guilt. But she would not express either surprise or regret over the fate of Oldacre. On the contrary, she spoke of him with such bitterness that she was unconsciously considerably strengthening the case of the police, for, of course, if her son had heard her speak of the man in this fashion it would predispose him towards hatred and violence. `He was more like a malignant and cunning ape than a human being,' said she, `and he always was, ever since he was a young man.'
　　
　　"`You knew him at that time?' said I.
　　
　　"`Yes, I knew him well; in fact, he was an old suitor of mine. Thank Heaven that I had the sense to turn away from him and to marry a better, if a poorer, man. I was engaged to him, Mr. Holmes, when I heard a shocking story of how he had turned a cat loose in an aviary, and I was so horrified at his brutal cruelty that I would have nothing more to do with him.' She rummaged in a bureau, and presently she produced a photograph of a woman, shamefully defaced and mutilated with a knife. `That is my own photograph,' she said. `He sent it to me in that state, with his curse, upon my wedding morning.'
　　
　　"`Well,' said I, `at least he has forgiven you now, since he has left all his property to your son.'
　　
　　"`Neither my son nor I want anything from Jonas Oldacre, dead or alive,' she cried, with a proper spirit. `There is a God in Heaven, Mr. Holmes, and that same God who has punished that wicked man will show in His own good time that my son's hands are guiltless of his blood.'
　　
　　"Well, I tried one or two leads, but could get at nothing which would help our hypothesis, and several points which would make against it. I gave it up at last and off I went to Norwood.
　　
　　"This place, Deep Dene House, is a big modern villa of staring brick, standing back in its own grounds, with a laurel-clumped lawn in front of it. To the right and some distance back from the road was the timber-yard which had been the scene of the fire. Here's a rough plan on a leaf of my note-book. This window on the left is the one which opens into Oldacre's room. You can look into it from the road, you see. That is about the only bit of consolation I have had to-day. Lestrade was not there, but his head constable did the honours. They had just made a great treasure-trove. They had spent the morning raking among the ashes of the burned wood-pile, and besides the charred organic remains they had secured several discoloured metal discs. I examined them with care, and there was no doubt that they were trouser buttons. I even distinguished that one of them was marked with the name of `Hyams,' who was Oldacre's tailor. I then worked the lawn very carefully for signs and traces, but this drought has made everything as hard as iron. Nothing was to be seen save that some body or bundle had been dragged through a low privet hedge which is in a line with the wood-pile. All that, of course, fits in with the official theory. I crawled about the lawn with an August sun on my back, but I got up at the end of an hour no wiser than before.
　　
　　"Well, after this fiasco I went into the bedroom and examined that also. The blood-stains were very slight, mere smears and discolorations, but undoubtedly fresh. The stick had been removed, but there also the marks were slight. There is no doubt about the stick belonging to our client. He admits it. Footmarks of both men could be made out on the carpet, but none of any third person, which again is a trick for the other side. They were piling up their score all the time and we were at a standstill.
　　
　　"Only one little gleam of hope did I get -- and yet it amounted to nothing. I examined the contents of the safe, most of which had been taken out and left on the table. The papers had been made up into sealed envelopes, one or two of which had been opened by the police. They were not, so far as I could judge, of any great value, nor did the bank-book show that Mr. Oldacre was in such very affluent circumstances. But it seemed to me that all the papers were not there. There were allusions to some deeds -- possibly the more valuable -- which I could not find. This, of course, if we could definitely prove it, would turn Lestrade's argument against himself, for who would steal a thing if he knew that he would shortly inherit it?
　　
　　"Finally, having drawn every other cover and picked up no scent, I tried my luck with the housekeeper. Mrs. Lexington is her name, a little, dark, silent person, with suspicious and sidelong eyes. She could tell us something if she would -- I am convinced of it. But she was as close as wax. Yes, she had let Mr. McFarlane in at half-past nine. She wished her hand had withered before she had done so. She had gone to bed at half-past ten. Her room was at the other end of the house, and she could hear nothing of what passed. Mr. McFarlane had left his hat, and to the best of her belief his stick, in the hall. She had been awakened by the alarm of fire. Her poor, dear master had certainly been murdered. Had he any enemies? Well, every man had enemies, but Mr. Oldacre kept himself very much to himself, and only met people in the way of business. She had seen the buttons, and was sure that they belonged to the clothes which he had worn last night. The wood-pile was very dry, for it had not rained for a month. It burned like tinder, and by the time she reached the spot nothing could be seen but flames. She and all the firemen smelled the burned flesh from inside it. She knew nothing of the papers, nor of Mr. Oldacre's private affairs.
　　
　　"So, my dear Watson, there's my report of a failure. And yet -- and yet ---" -- he clenched his thin hands in a paroxysm of conviction -- "I KNOW it's all wrong. I feel it in my bones. There is something that has not come out, and that housekeeper knows it. There was a sort of sulky defiance in her eyes, which only goes with guilty knowledge. However, there's no good talking any more about it, Watson; but unless some lucky chance comes our way I fear that the Norwood Disappearance Case will not figure in that chronicle of our successes which I foresee that a patient public will sooner or later have to endure."
　　
　　"Surely," said I, "the man's appearance would go far with any jury?"
　　
　　"That is a dangerous argument, my dear Watson. You remember that terrible murderer, Bert Stevens, who wanted us to get him off in '87? Was there ever a more mild-mannered, Sunday-school young man?"
　　
　　"It is true."
　　
　　"Unless we succeed in establishing an alternative theory this man is lost. You can hardly find a flaw in the case which can now be presented against him, and all further investigation has served to strengthen it. By the way, there is one curious little point about those papers which may serve us as the starting-point for an inquiry. On looking over the bank-book I found that the low state of the balance was principally due to large cheques which have been made out during the last year to Mr. Cornelius. I confess that I should be interested to know who this Mr. Cornelius may be with whom a retired builder has such very large transactions. Is it possible that he has had a hand in the affair? Cornelius might be a broker, but we have found no scrip to correspond with these large payments. Failing any other indication my researches must now take the direction of an inquiry at the bank for the gentleman who has cashed these cheques. But I fear, my dear fellow, that our case will end ingloriously by Lestrade hanging our client, which will certainly be a triumph for Scotland Yard."
　　
　　I do not know how far Sherlock Holmes took any sleep that night, but when I came down to breakfast I found him pale and harassed, his bright eyes the brighter for the dark shadows round them. The carpet round his chair was littered with cigarette-ends and with the early editions of the morning papers. An open telegram lay upon the table.
　　
　　"What do you think of this, Watson?" he asked, tossing it across.
　　
　　It was from Norwood, and ran as follows:--
　　
　　"IMPORTANT FRESH EVIDENCE TO HAND. MCFARLANE'S GUILT DEFINITELY ESTABLISHED. ADVISE YOU TO ABANDON CASE. -- LESTRADE."
　　
　　"This sounds serious," said I.
　　
　　"It is Lestrade's little cock-a-doodle of victory," Holmes answered, with a bitter smile. "And yet it may be premature to abandon the case. After all, important fresh evidence is a two-edged thing, and may possibly cut in a very different direction to that which Lestrade imagines. Take your breakfast, Watson, and we will go out together and see what we can do. I feel as if I shall need your company and your moral support to-day."
　　
　　My friend had no breakfast himself, for it was one of his peculiarities that in his more intense moments he would permit himself no food, and I have known him presume upon his iron strength until he has fainted from pure inanition. "At present I cannot spare energy and nerve force for digestion," he would say in answer to my medical remonstrances. I was not surprised, therefore, when this morning he left his untouched meal behind him and started with me for Norwood. A crowd of morbid sightseers were still gathered round Deep Dene House, which was just such a suburban villa as I had pictured. Within the gates Lestrade met us, his face flushed with victory, his manner grossly triumphant.
　　
　　"Well, Mr. Holmes, have you proved us to be wrong yet? Have you found your tramp?" he cried.
　　
　　"I have formed no conclusion whatever," my companion answered.
　　
　　"But we formed ours yesterday, and now it proves to be correct; so you must acknowledge that we have been a little in front of you this time, Mr. Holmes."
　　
　　"You certainly have the air of something unusual having occurred," said Holmes.
　　
　　Lestrade laughed loudly.
　　
　　"You don't like being beaten any more than the rest of us do," said he. "A man can't expect always to have it his own way, can he, Dr. Watson? Step this way, if you please, gentlemen, and I think I can convince you once for all that it was John McFarlane who did this crime."
　　
　　He led us through the passage and out into a dark hall beyond.
　　
　　"This is where young McFarlane must have come out to get his hat after the crime was done," said he. "Now, look at this." With dramatic suddenness he struck a match and by its light exposed a stain of blood upon the whitewashed wall. As he held the match nearer I saw that it was more than a stain. It was the well-marked print of a thumb.
　　
　　"Look at that with your magnifying glass, Mr. Holmes."
　　
　　"Yes, I am doing so."
　　
　　"You are aware that no two thumb marks are alike?"
　　
　　"I have heard something of the kind."
　　
　　"Well, then, will you please compare that print with this wax impression of young McFarlane's right thumb, taken by my orders this morning?"
　　
　　As he held the waxen print close to the blood-stain it did not take a magnifying glass to see that the two were undoubtedly from the same thumb. It was evident to me that our unfortunate client was lost.
　　
　　"That is final," said Lestrade.
　　
　　"Yes, that is final," I involuntarily echoed.
　　
　　"It is final," said Holmes.
　　
　　Something in his tone caught my ear, and I turned to look at him. An extraordinary change had come over his face. It was writhing with inward merriment. His two eyes were shining like stars. It seemed to me that he was making desperate efforts to restrain a convulsive attack of laughter.
　　
　　"Dear me! Dear me!" he said at last. "Well, now, who would have thought it? And how deceptive appearances may be, to be sure! Such a nice young man to look at! It is a lesson to us not to trust our own judgment, is it not, Lestrade?"
　　
　　"Yes, some of us are a little too much inclined to be cocksure, Mr. Holmes," said Lestrade. The man's insolence was maddening, but we could not resent it.
　　
　　"What a providential thing that this young man should press his right thumb against the wall in taking his hat from the peg! Such a very natural action, too, if you come to think of it." Holmes was outwardly calm, but his whole body gave a wriggle of suppressed excitement as he spoke. "By the way, Lestrade, who made this remarkable discovery?"
　　
　　"It was the housekeeper, Mrs. Lexington, who drew the night constable's attention to it."
　　
　　"Where was the night constable?"
　　
　　"He remained on guard in the bedroom where the crime was committed, so as to see that nothing was touched."
　　
　　"But why didn't the police see this mark yesterday?"
　　
　　"Well, we had no particular reason to make a careful examination of the hall. Besides, it's not in a very prominent place, as you see."
　　
　　"No, no, of course not. I suppose there is no doubt that the mark was there yesterday?"
　　
　　Lestrade looked at Holmes as if he thought he was going out of his mind. I confess that I was myself surprised both at his hilarious manner and at his rather wild observation.
　　
　　"I don't know whether you think that McFarlane came out of gaol in the dead of the night in order to strengthen the evidence against himself," said Lestrade. "I leave it to any expert in the world whether that is not the mark of his thumb."
　　
　　"It is unquestionably the mark of his thumb."
　　
　　"There, that's enough," said Lestrade. "I am a practical man, Mr. Holmes, and when I have got my evidence I come to my conclusions. If you have anything to say you will find me writing my report in the sitting-room."
　　
　　Holmes had recovered his equanimity, though I still seemed to detect gleams of amusement in his expression.
　　
　　"Dear me, this is a very sad development, Watson, is it not?" said he. "And yet there are singular points about it which hold out some hopes for our client."
　　
　　"I am delighted to hear it," said I, heartily. "I was afraid it was all up with him."
　　
　　"I would hardly go so far as to say that, my dear Watson. The fact is that there is one really serious flaw in this evidence to which our friend attaches so much importance."
　　
　　"Indeed, Holmes! What is it?"
　　
　　"Only this: that I KNOW that that mark was not there when I examined the hall yesterday. And now, Watson, let us have a little stroll round in the sunshine."
　　
　　With a confused brain, but with a heart into which some warmth of hope was returning, I accompanied my friend in a walk round the garden. Holmes took each face of the house in turn and examined it with great interest. He then led the way inside and went over the whole building from basement to attics. Most of the rooms were unfurnished, but none the less Holmes inspected them all minutely. Finally, on the top corridor, which ran outside three untenanted bedrooms, he again was seized with a spasm of merriment.
　　
　　"There are really some very unique features about this case, Watson," said he. "I think it is time now that we took our friend Lestrade into our confidence. He has had his little smile at our expense, and perhaps we may do as much by him if my reading of this problem proves to be correct. Yes, yes; I think I see how we should approach it."
　　
　　The Scotland Yard inspector was still writing in the parlour when Holmes interrupted him.
　　
　　"I understood that you were writing a report of this case," said he.
　　
　　"So I am."
　　
　　"Don't you think it may be a little premature? I can't help thinking that your evidence is not complete."
　　
　　Lestrade knew my friend too well to disregard his words. He laid down his pen and looked curiously at him.
　　
　　"What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?"
　　
　　"Only that there is an important witness whom you have not seen."
　　
　　"Can you produce him?"
　　
　　"I think I can."
　　
　　"Then do so."
　　
　　"I will do my best. How many constables have you?"
　　
　　"There are three within call."
　　
　　"Excellent!" said Holmes. "May I ask if they are all large, able-bodied men with powerful voices?"
　　
　　"I have no doubt they are, though I fail to see what their voices have to do with it."
　　
　　"Perhaps I can help you to see that and one or two other things as well," said Holmes. "Kindly summon your men, and I will try."
　　
　　Five minutes later three policemen had assembled in the hall.
　　
　　"In the outhouse you will find a considerable quantity of straw," said Holmes. "I will ask you to carry in two bundles of it. I think it will be of the greatest assistance in producing the witness whom I require. Thank you very much. I believe you have some matches in your pocket, Watson. Now, Mr. Lestrade, I will ask you all to accompany me to the top landing."
　　
　　As I have said, there was a broad corridor there, which ran outside three empty bedrooms. At one end of the corridor we were all marshalled by Sherlock Holmes, the constables grinning and Lestrade staring at my friend with amazement, expectation, and derision chasing each other across his features. Holmes stood before us with the air of a conjurer who is performing a trick.
　　
　　"Would you kindly send one of your constables for two buckets of water? Put the straw on the floor here, free from the wall on either side. Now I think that we are all ready."
　　
　　Lestrade's face had begun to grow red and angry.
　　
　　"I don't know whether you are playing a game with us, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said he. "If you know anything, you can surely say it without all this tomfoolery."
　　
　　"I assure you, my good Lestrade, that I have an excellent reason for everything that I do. You may possibly remember that you chaffed me a little some hours ago, when the sun seemed on your side of the hedge, so you must not grudge me a little pomp and ceremony now. Might I ask you, Watson, to open that window, and then to put a match to the edge of the straw?"
　　
　　I did so, and, driven by the draught, a coil of grey smoke swirled down the corridor, while the dry straw crackled and flamed.
　　
　　"Now we must see if we can find this witness for you, Lestrade. Might I ask you all to join in the cry of `Fire!'? Now, then; one, two, three ---"
　　
　　"Fire!" we all yelled.
　　
　　"Thank you. I will trouble you once again."
　　
　　"Fire!"
　　
　　"Just once more, gentlemen, and all together."
　　
　　"Fire!" The shout must have rung over Norwood.
　　
　　It had hardly died away when an amazing thing happened. A door suddenly flew open out of what appeared to be solid wall at the end of the corridor, and a little, wizened man darted out of it, like a rabbit out of its burrow.
　　
　　"Capital!" said Holmes, calmly. "Watson, a bucket of water over the straw. That will do! Lestrade, allow me to present you with your principal missing witness, Mr. Jonas Oldacre."
　　
　　The detective stared at the new-comer with blank amazement. The latter was blinking in the bright light of the corridor, and peering at us and at the smouldering fire. It was an odious face -- crafty, vicious, malignant, with shifty, light-grey eyes and white eyelashes.
　　
　　"What's this, then?" said Lestrade at last. "What have you been doing all this time, eh?"
　　
　　Oldacre gave an uneasy laugh, shrinking back from the furious red face of the angry detective.
　　
　　"I have done no harm."
　　
　　"No harm? You have done your best to get an innocent man hanged. If it wasn't for this gentleman here, I am not sure that you would not have succeeded."
　　
　　The wretched creature began to whimper.
　　
　　"I am sure, sir, it was only my practical joke."
　　
　　"Oh! a joke, was it? You won't find the laugh on your side, I promise you. Take him down and keep him in the sitting-room until I come. Mr. Holmes," he continued, when they had gone, "I could not speak before the constables, but I don't mind saying, in the presence of Dr. Watson, that this is the brightest thing that you have done yet, though it is a mystery to me how you did it. You have saved an innocent man's life, and you have prevented a very grave scandal, which would have ruined my reputation in the Force."
　　
　　Holmes smiled and clapped Lestrade upon the shoulder.
　　
　　"Instead of being ruined, my good sir, you will find that your reputation has been enormously enhanced. Just make a few alterations in that report which you were writing, and they will understand how hard it is to throw dust in the eyes of Inspector Lestrade."
　　
　　"And you don't want your name to appear?"
　　
　　"Not at all. The work is its own reward. Perhaps I shall get the credit also at some distant day when I permit my zealous historian to lay out his foolscap once more -- eh, Watson? Well, now, let us see where this rat has been lurking."
　　
　　A lath-and-plaster partition had been run across the passage six feet from the end, with a door cunningly concealed in it. It was lit within by slits under the eaves. A few articles of furniture and a supply of food and water were within, together with a number of books and papers.
　　
　　"There's the advantage of being a builder," said Holmes, as we came out. "He was able to fix up his own little hiding-place without any confederate -- save, of course, that precious housekeeper of his, whom I should lose no time in adding to your bag, Lestrade."
　　
　　"I'll take your advice. But how did you know of this place, Mr. Holmes?"
　　
　　"I made up my mind that the fellow was in hiding in the house. When I paced one corridor and found it six feet shorter than the corresponding one below, it was pretty clear where he was. I thought he had not the nerve to lie quiet before an alarm of fire. We could, of course, have gone in and taken him, but it amused me to make him reveal himself; besides, I owed you a little mystification, Lestrade, for your chaff in the morning."
　　
　　"Well, sir, you certainly got equal with me on that. But how in the world did you know that he was in the house at all?"
　　
　　"The thumb-mark, Lestrade. You said it was final; and so it was, in a very different sense. I knew it had not been there the day before. I pay a good deal of attention to matters of detail, as you may have observed, and I had examined the hall and was sure that the wall was clear. Therefore, it had been put on during the night."
　　
　　"But how?"
　　
　　"Very simply. When those packets were sealed up, Jonas Oldacre got McFarlane to secure one of the seals by putting his thumb upon the soft wax. It would be done so quickly and so naturally that I dare say the young man himself has no recollection of it. Very likely it just so happened, and Oldacre had himself no notion of the use he would put it to. Brooding over the case in that den of his, it suddenly struck him what absolutely damning evidence he could make against McFarlane by using that thumb-mark. It was the simplest thing in the world for him to take a wax impression from the seal, to moisten it in as much blood as he could get from a pin-prick, and to put the mark upon the wall during the night, either with his own hand or with that of his housekeeper. If you examine among those documents which he took with him into his retreat I will lay you a wager that you find the seal with the thumb-mark upon it."
　　
　　"Wonderful!" said Lestrade. "Wonderful! It's all as clear as crystal, as you put it. But what is the object of this deep deception, Mr. Holmes?"
　　
　　It was amusing to me to see how the detective's overbearing manner had changed suddenly to that of a child asking questions of its teacher.
　　
　　"Well, I don't think that is very hard to explain. A very deep, malicious, vindictive person is the gentleman who is now awaiting us downstairs. You know that he was once refused by McFarlane's mother? You don't! I told you that you should go to Blackheath first and Norwood afterwards. Well, this injury, as he would consider it, has rankled in his wicked, scheming brain, and all his life he has longed for vengeance, but never seen his chance. During the last year or two things have gone against him -- secret speculation, I think -- and he finds himself in a bad way. He determines to swindle his creditors, and for this purpose he pays large cheques to a certain Mr. Cornelius, who is, I imagine, himself under another name. I have not traced these cheques yet, but I have no doubt that they were banked under that name at some provincial town where Oldacre from time to time led a double existence. He intended to change his name altogether, draw this money, and vanish, starting life again elsewhere."
　　
　　"Well, that's likely enough."
　　
　　"It would strike him that in disappearing he might throw all pursuit off his track, and at the same time have an ample and crushing revenge upon his old sweetheart, if he could give the impression that he had been murdered by her only child. It was a masterpiece of villainy, and he carried it out like a master. The idea of the will, which would give an obvious motive for the crime, the secret visit unknown to his own parents, the retention of the stick, the blood, and the animal remains and buttons in the wood-pile, all were admirable. It was a net from which it seemed to me a few hours ago that there was no possible escape. But he had not that supreme gift of the artist, the knowledge of when to stop. He wished to improve that which was already perfect -- to draw the rope tighter yet round the neck of his unfortunate victim -- and so he ruined all. Let us descend, Lestrade. There are just one or two questions that I would ask him."
　　
　　The malignant creature was seated in his own parlour with a policeman upon each side of him.
　　
　　"It was a joke, my good sir, a practical joke, nothing more," he whined incessantly. "I assure you, sir, that I simply concealed myself in order to see the effect of my disappearance, and I am sure that you would not be so unjust as to imagine that I would have allowed any harm to befall poor young Mr. McFarlane."
　　
　　"That's for a jury to decide," said Lestrade. "Anyhow, we shall have you on a charge of conspiracy, if not for attempted murder."
　　
　　"And you'll probably find that your creditors will impound the banking account of Mr. Cornelius," said Holmes.
　　
　　The little man started and turned his malignant eyes upon my friend.
　　
　　"I have to thank you for a good deal," said he. "Perhaps I'll pay my debt some day."
　　
　　Holmes smiled indulgently.
　　
　　"I fancy that for some few years you will find your time very fully occupied," said he. "By the way, what was it you put into the wood-pile besides your old trousers? A dead dog, or rabbits, or what? You won't tell? Dear me, how very unkind of you! Well, well, I dare say that a couple of rabbits would account both for the blood and for the charred ashes. If ever you write an account, Watson, you can make rabbits serve your turn."