The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge Read online

met his death?"

  "He had been there since one o'clock. There was rain about that time,and his death had certainly been before the rain."

  "But that is perfectly impossible, Mr. Baynes," cried our client. "Hisvoice is unmistakable. I could swear to it that it was he whoaddressed me in my bedroom at that very hour."

  "Remarkable, but by no means impossible," said Holmes, smiling.

  "You have a clue?" asked Gregson.

  "On the face of it the case is not a very complex one, though itcertainly presents some novel and interesting features. A furtherknowledge of facts is necessary before I would venture to give a finaland definite opinion. By the way, Mr. Baynes, did you find anythingremarkable besides this note in your examination of the house?"

  The detective looked at my friend in a singular way.

  "There were," said he, "one or two _very_ remarkable things. Perhapswhen I have finished at the police-station you would care to come outand give me your opinion of them."

  "I am entirely at your service," said Sherlock Holmes, ringing thebell. "You will show these gentlemen out, Mrs. Hudson, and kindly sendthe boy with this telegram. He is to pay a five-shilling reply."

  We sat for some time in silence after our visitors had left. Holmessmoked hard, with his browns drawn down over his keen eyes, and hishead thrust forward in the eager way characteristic of the man.

  "Well, Watson," he asked, turning suddenly upon me, "what do you makeof it?"

  "I can make nothing of this mystification of Scott Eccles."

  "But the crime?"

  "Well, taken with the disappearance of the man's companions, I shouldsay that they were in some way concerned in the murder and had fledfrom justice."

  "That is certainly a possible point of view. On the face of it youmust admit, however, that it is very strange that his two servantsshould have been in a conspiracy against him and should have attackedhim on the one night when he had a guest. They had him alone at theirmercy every other night in the week."

  "Then why did they fly?"

  "Quite so. Why did they fly? There is a big fact. Another big factis the remarkable experience of our client, Scott Eccles. Now, my dearWatson, is it beyond the limits of human ingenuity to furnish anexplanation which would cover both of these big facts? If it were onewhich would also admit of the mysterious note with its very curiousphraseology, why, then it would be worth accepting as a temporaryhypothesis. If the fresh facts which come to our knowledge all fitthemselves into the scheme, then our hypothesis may gradually become asolution."

  "But what is our hypothesis?"

  Holmes leaned back in his chair with half-closed eyes.

  "You must admit, my dear Watson, that the idea of a joke is impossible.There were grave events afoot, as the sequel showed, and the coaxing ofScott Eccles to Wisteria Lodge had some connection with them."

  "But what possible connection?"

  "Let us take it link by link. There is, on the face of it, somethingunnatural about this strange and sudden friendship between the youngSpaniard and Scott Eccles. It was the former who forced the pace. Hecalled upon Eccles at the other end of London on the very day after hefirst met him, and he kept in close touch with him until he got himdown to Esher. Now, what did he want with Eccles? What could Ecclessupply? I see no charm in the man. He is not particularlyintelligent--not a man likely to be congenial to a quick-witted Latin.Why, then, was he picked out from all the other people whom Garcia metas particularly suited to his purpose? Has he any one outstandingquality? I say that he has. He is the very type of conventionalBritish respectability, and the very man as a witness to impressanother Briton. You saw yourself how neither of the inspectors dreamedof questioning his statement, extraordinary as it was."

  "But what was he to witness?"

  "Nothing, as things turned out, but everything had they gone anotherway. That is how I read the matter."

  "I see, he might have proved an alibi."

  "Exactly, my dear Watson; he might have proved an alibi. We willsuppose, for argument's sake, that the household of Wisteria Lodge areconfederates in some design. The attempt, whatever it may be, is tocome off, we will say, before one o'clock. By some juggling of theclocks it is quite possible that they may have got Scott Eccles to bedearlier than he thought, but in any case it is likely that when Garciawent out of his way to tell him that it was one it was really not morethan twelve. If Garcia could do whatever he had to do and be back bythe hour mentioned he had evidently a powerful reply to any accusation.Here was this irreproachable Englishman ready to swear in any court oflaw that the accused was in the house all the time. It was aninsurance against the worst."

  "Yes, yes, I see that. But how about the disappearance of the others?"

  "I have not all my facts yet, but I do not think there are anyinsuperable difficulties. Still, it is an error to argue in front ofyour data. You find yourself insensibly twisting them round to fityour theories."

  "And the message?"

  "How did it run? 'Our own colours, green and white.' Sounds likeracing. 'Green open, white shut.' That is clearly a signal. 'Mainstair, first corridor, seventh right, green baize.' This is anassignation. We may find a jealous husband at the bottom of it all.It was clearly a dangerous quest. She would not have said 'Godspeed'had it not been so. 'D'--that should be a guide."

  "The man was a Spaniard. I suggest that 'D' stands for Dolores, acommon female name in Spain."

  "Good, Watson, very good--but quite inadmissable. A Spaniard wouldwrite to a Spaniard in Spanish. The writer of this note is certainlyEnglish. Well, we can only possess our soul in patience until thisexcellent inspector come back for us. Meanwhile we can thank our luckyfate which has rescued us for a few short hours from the insufferablefatigues of idleness."

  * * *

  An answer had arrived to Holmes's telegram before our Surrey officerhad returned. Holmes read it and was about to place it in his notebookwhen he caught a glimpse of my expectant face. He tossed it across witha laugh.

  "We are moving in exalted circles," said he.

  The telegram was a list of names and addresses:

  Lord Harringby, The Dingle; Sir George Ffolliott, Oxshott Towers; Mr.Hynes Hynes, J.P., Purdley Place; Mr. James Baker Williams, Forton OldHall; Mr. Henderson, High Gable; Rev. Joshua Stone, Nether Walsling.

  "This is a very obvious way of limiting our field of operations," saidHolmes. "No doubt Baynes, with his methodical mind, has alreadyadopted some similar plan."

  "I don't quite understand."

  "Well, my dear fellow, we have already arrived at the conclusion thatthe message received by Garcia at dinner was an appointment or anassignation. Now, if the obvious reading of it is correct, and inorder to keep the tryst one has to ascend a main stair and seek theseventh door in a corridor, it is perfectly clear that the house is avery large one. It is equally certain that this house cannot be morethan a mile or two from Oxshott, since Garcia was walking in thatdirection and hoped, according to my reading of the facts, to be backin Wisteria Lodge in time to avail himself of an alibi, which wouldonly be valid up to one o'clock. As the number of large houses closeto Oxshott must be limited, I adopted the obvious method of sending tothe agents mentioned by Scott Eccles and obtaining a list of them.Here they are in this telegram, and the other end of our tangled skeinmust lie among them."

  * * *

  It was nearly six o'clock before we found ourselves in the prettySurrey village of Esher, with Inspector Baynes as our companion.

  Holmes and I had taken things for the night, and found comfortablequarters at the Bull. Finally we set out in the company of thedetective on our visit to Wisteria Lodge. It was a cold, dark Marchevening, with a sharp wind and a fine rain beating upon our faces, afit setting for the wild common over which our road passed and thetragic goal to which it led us.

  2. The Tiger of San Pedro

  A cold and melancholy walk of a c
ouple of miles brought us to a highwooden gate, which opened into a gloomy avenue of chestnuts. The curvedand shadowed drive led us to a low, dark house, pitch-black against aslate-coloured sky. From the front window upon the left of the doorthere peeped a glimmer of a feeble light.

  "There's a constable in possession," said Baynes. "I'll knock at thewindow." He stepped across the grass plot and tapped with his hand onthe pane. Through the fogged glass I dimly saw a man spring up from achair beside the fire, and heard a sharp cry from within the room. Aninstant later a white-faced, hard-breathing policeman had opened thedoor, the candle wavering in his trembling hand.

  "What's the matter,