The Adventure of the Bruce-Partington Plans Read online

or whether thepoor old fellow killed himself! If the latter, may it be taken as somesign of self-reproach for duty neglected? We must leave that questionto the future. Now we shall turn to the Cadogan Wests."

  A small but well-kept house in the outskirts of the town sheltered thebereaved mother. The old lady was too dazed with grief to be of anyuse to us, but at her side was a white-faced young lady, who introducedherself as Miss Violet Westbury, the fiancee of the dead man, and thelast to see him upon that fatal night.

  "I cannot explain it, Mr. Holmes," she said. "I have not shut an eyesince the tragedy, thinking, thinking, thinking, night and day, whatthe true meaning of it can be. Arthur was the most single-minded,chivalrous, patriotic man upon earth. He would have cut his right handoff before he would sell a State secret confided to his keeping. It isabsurd, impossible, preposterous to anyone who knew him."

  "But the facts, Miss Westbury?"

  "Yes, yes; I admit I cannot explain them."

  "Was he in any want of money?"

  "No; his needs were very simple and his salary ample. He had saved afew hundreds, and we were to marry at the New Year."

  "No signs of any mental excitement? Come, Miss Westbury, be absolutelyfrank with us."

  The quick eye of my companion had noted some change in her manner. Shecoloured and hesitated.

  "Yes," she said at last, "I had a feeling that there was something onhis mind."

  "For long?"

  "Only for the last week or so. He was thoughtful and worried. Once Ipressed him about it. He admitted that there was something, and thatit was concerned with his official life. 'It is too serious for me tospeak about, even to you,' said he. I could get nothing more."

  Holmes looked grave.

  "Go on, Miss Westbury. Even if it seems to tell against him, go on.We cannot say what it may lead to."

  "Indeed, I have nothing more to tell. Once or twice it seemed to methat he was on the point of telling me something. He spoke one eveningof the importance of the secret, and I have some recollection that hesaid that no doubt foreign spies would pay a great deal to have it."

  My friend's face grew graver still.

  "Anything else?"

  "He said that we were slack about such matters--that it would be easyfor a traitor to get the plans."

  "Was it only recently that he made such remarks?"

  "Yes, quite recently."

  "Now tell us of that last evening."

  "We were to go to the theatre. The fog was so thick that a cab wasuseless. We walked, and our way took us close to the office. Suddenlyhe darted away into the fog."

  "Without a word?"

  "He gave an exclamation; that was all. I waited but he never returned.Then I walked home. Next morning, after the office opened, they cameto inquire. About twelve o'clock we heard the terrible news. Oh, Mr.Holmes, if you could only, only save his honour! It was so much tohim."

  Holmes shook his head sadly.

  "Come, Watson," said he, "our ways lie elsewhere. Our next stationmust be the office from which the papers were taken.

  "It was black enough before against this young man, but our inquiriesmake it blacker," he remarked as the cab lumbered off. "His comingmarriage gives a motive for the crime. He naturally wanted money. Theidea was in his head, since he spoke about it. He nearly made the girlan accomplice in the treason by telling her his plans. It is all verybad."

  "But surely, Holmes, character goes for something? Then, again, whyshould he leave the girl in the street and dart away to commit afelony?"

  "Exactly! There are certainly objections. But it is a formidable casewhich they have to meet."

  Mr. Sidney Johnson, the senior clerk, met us at the office and receivedus with that respect which my companion's card always commanded. Hewas a thin, gruff, bespectacled man of middle age, his cheeks haggard,and his hands twitching from the nervous strain to which he had beensubjected.

  "It is bad, Mr. Holmes, very bad! Have you heard of the death of thechief?"

  "We have just come from his house."

  "The place is disorganized. The chief dead, Cadogan West dead, ourpapers stolen. And yet, when we closed our door on Monday evening, wewere as efficient an office as any in the government service. GoodGod, it's dreadful to think of! That West, of all men, should havedone such a thing!"

  "You are sure of his guilt, then?"

  "I can see no other way out of it. And yet I would have trusted him asI trust myself."

  "At what hour was the office closed on Monday?"

  "At five."

  "Did you close it?"

  "I am always the last man out."

  "Where were the plans?"

  "In that safe. I put them there myself."

  "Is there no watchman to the building?"

  "There is, but he has other departments to look after as well. He is anold soldier and a most trustworthy man. He saw nothing that evening.Of course the fog was very thick."

  "Suppose that Cadogan West wished to make his way into the buildingafter hours; he would need three keys, would he not, before he couldreach the papers?"

  "Yes, he would. The key of the outer door, the key of the office, andthe key of the safe."

  "Only Sir James Walter and you had those keys?"

  "I had no keys of the doors--only of the safe."

  "Was Sir James a man who was orderly in his habits?"

  "Yes, I think he was. I know that so far as those three keys areconcerned he kept them on the same ring. I have often seen them there."

  "And that ring went with him to London?"

  "He said so."

  "And your key never left your possession?"

  "Never."

  "Then West, if he is the culprit, must have had a duplicate. And yetnone was found upon his body. One other point: if a clerk in thisoffice desired to sell the plans, would it not be simpler to copy theplans for himself than to take the originals, as was actually done?"

  "It would take considerable technical knowledge to copy the plans in aneffective way."

  "But I suppose either Sir James, or you, or West has that technicalknowledge?"

  "No doubt we had, but I beg you won't try to drag me into the matter,Mr. Holmes. What is the use of our speculating in this way when theoriginal plans were actually found on West?"

  "Well, it is certainly singular that he should run the risk of takingoriginals if he could safely have taken copies, which would haveequally served his turn."

  "Singular, no doubt--and yet he did so."

  "Every inquiry in this case reveals something inexplicable. Now thereare three papers still missing. They are, as I understand, the vitalones."

  "Yes, that is so."

  "Do you mean to say that anyone holding these three papers, and withoutthe seven others, could construct a Bruce-Partington submarine?"

  "I reported to that effect to the Admiralty. But to-day I have beenover the drawings again, and I am not so sure of it. The double valveswith the automatic self-adjusting slots are drawn in one of the paperswhich have been returned. Until the foreigners had invented that forthemselves they could not make the boat. Of course they might soon getover the difficulty."

  "But the three missing drawings are the most important?"

  "Undoubtedly."

  "I think, with your permission, I will now take a stroll round thepremises. I do not recall any other question which I desired to ask."

  He examined the lock of the safe, the door of the room, and finally theiron shutters of the window. It was only when we were on the lawnoutside that his interest was strongly excited. There was a laurel bushoutside the window, and several of the branches bore signs of havingbeen twisted or snapped. He examined them carefully with his lens, andthen some dim and vague marks upon the earth beneath. Finally he askedthe chief clerk to close the iron shutters, and he pointed out to methat they hardly met in the centre, and that it would be possible foranyone outside to see what was going on within the room.


  "The indications are ruined by three days' delay. They may meansomething or nothing. Well, Watson, I do not think that Woolwich canhelp us further. It is a small crop which we have gathered. Let us seeif we can do better in London."

  Yet we added one more sheaf to our harvest before we left WoolwichStation. The clerk in the ticket office was able to say withconfidence that he saw Cadogan West--whom he knew well by sight--uponthe Monday night, and that he went to London by the 8:15 to LondonBridge. He was alone and took a single third-class ticket. The clerkwas struck at the time by his excited and nervous manner. So shaky washe that he could hardly pick up his change, and the