The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge Read online

Walters?" asked Baynes sharply.

  The man mopped his forehead with his handkerchief and gave a long sighof relief.

  "I am glad you have come, sir. It has been a long evening, and I don'tthink my nerve is as good as it was."

  "Your nerve, Walters? I should not have thought you had a nerve inyour body."

  "Well, sir, it's this lonely, silent house and the queer thing in thekitchen. Then when you tapped at the window I thought it had comeagain."

  "That what had come again?"

  "The devil, sir, for all I know. It was at the window."

  "What was at the window, and when?"

  "It was just about two hours ago. The light was just fading. I wassitting reading in the chair. I don't know what made me look up, butthere was a face looking in at me through the lower pane. Lord, sir,what a face it was! I'll see it in my dreams."

  "Tut, tut, Walters. This is not talk for a police-constable."

  "I know, sir, I know; but it shook me, sir, and there's no use to denyit. It wasn't black, sir, nor was it white, nor any colour that I knowbut a kind of queer shade like clay with a splash of milk in it. Thenthere was the size of it--it was twice yours, sir. And the look ofit--the great staring goggle eyes, and the line of white teeth like ahungry beast. I tell you, sir, I couldn't move a finger, nor get mybreath, till it whisked away and was gone. Out I ran and through theshrubbery, but thank God there was no one there."

  "If I didn't know you were a good man, Walters, I should put a blackmark against you for this. If it were the devil himself a constable onduty should never thank God that he could not lay his hands upon him.I suppose the whole thing is not a vision and a touch of nerves?"

  "That, at least, is very easily settled," said Holmes, lighting hislittle pocket lantern. "Yes," he reported, after a short examinationof the grass bed, "a number twelve shoe, I should say. If he was allon the same scale as his foot he must certainly have been a giant."

  "What became of him?"

  "He seems to have broken through the shrubbery and made for the road."

  "Well," said the inspector with a grave and thoughtful face, "whoeverhe may have been, and whatever he may have wanted, he's gone for thepresent, and we have more immediate things to attend to. Now, Mr.Holmes, with your permission, I will show you round the house."

  The various bedrooms and sitting-rooms had yielded nothing to a carefulsearch. Apparently the tenants had brought little or nothing withthem, and all the furniture down to the smallest details had been takenover with the house. A good deal of clothing with the stamp of Marxand Co., High Holborn, had been left behind. Telegraphic inquiries hadbeen already made which showed that Marx knew nothing of his customersave that he was a good payer. Odds and ends, some pipes, a fewnovels, two of them in Spanish, an old-fashioned pinfire revolver, anda guitar were among the personal property.

  "Nothing in all this," said Baynes, stalking, candle in hand, from roomto room. "But now, Mr. Holmes, I invite your attention to the kitchen."

  It was a gloomy, high-ceilinged room at the back of the house, with astraw litter in one corner, which served apparently as a bed for thecook. The table was piled with half-eaten dishes and dirty plates, thedebris of last night's dinner.

  "Look at this," said Baynes. "What do you make of it?"

  He held up his candle before an extraordinary object which stood at theback of the dresser. It was so wrinkled and shrunken and withered thatit was difficult to say what it might have been. One could but say thatit was black and leathery and that it bore some resemblance to adwarfish, human figure. At first, as I examined it, I thought that itwas a mummified negro baby, and then it seemed a very twisted andancient monkey. Finally I was left in doubt as to whether it wasanimal or human. A double band of white shells were strung round thecentre of it.

  "Very interesting--very interesting, indeed!" said Holmes, peering atthis sinister relic. "Anything more?"

  In silence Baynes led the way to the sink and held forward his candle.The limbs and body of some large, white bird, torn savagely to pieceswith the feathers still on, were littered all over it. Holmes pointedto the wattles on the severed head.

  "A white cock," said he. "Most interesting! It is really a verycurious case."

  But Mr. Baynes had kept his most sinister exhibit to the last. Fromunder the sink he drew a zinc pail which contained a quantity of blood.Then from the table he took a platter heaped with small pieces ofcharred bone.

  "Something has been killed and something has been burned. We raked allthese out of the fire. We had a doctor in this morning. He says thatthey are not human."

  Holmes smiled and rubbed his hands.

  "I must congratulate you, Inspector, on handling so distinctive andinstructive a case. Your powers, if I may say so without offence, seemsuperior to your opportunities."

  Inspector Baynes's small eyes twinkled with pleasure.

  "You're right, Mr. Holmes. We stagnate in the provinces. A case ofthis sort gives a man a chance, and I hope that I shall take it. Whatdo you make of these bones?"

  "A lamb, I should say, or a kid."

  "And the white cock?"

  "Curious, Mr. Baynes, very curious. I should say almost unique."

  "Yes, sir, there must have been some very strange people with some verystrange ways in this house. One of them is dead. Did his companionsfollow him and kill him? If they did we should have them, for everyport is watched. But my own views are different. Yes, sir, my ownviews are very different."

  "You have a theory then?"

  "And I'll work it myself, Mr. Holmes. It's only due to my own creditto do so. Your name is made, but I have still to make mine. I shouldbe glad to be able to say afterwards that I had solved it without yourhelp."

  Holmes laughed good-humoredly.

  "Well, well, Inspector," said he. "Do you follow your path and I willfollow mine. My results are always very much at your service if youcare to apply to me for them. I think that I have seen all that I wishin this house, and that my time may be more profitably employedelsewhere. Au revoir and good luck!"

  I could tell by numerous subtle signs, which might have been lost uponanyone but myself, that Holmes was on a hot scent. As impassive asever to the casual observer, there were none the less a subduedeagerness and suggestion of tension in his brightened eyes and briskermanner which assured me that the game was afoot. After his habit hesaid nothing, and after mine I asked no questions. Sufficient for meto share the sport and lend my humble help to the capture withoutdistracting that intent brain with needless interruption. All wouldcome round to me in due time.

  I waited, therefore--but to my ever-deepening disappointment I waitedin vain. Day succeeded day, and my friend took no step forward. Onemorning he spent in town, and I learned from a casual reference that hehad visited the British Museum. Save for this one excursion, he spenthis days in long and often solitary walks, or in chatting with a numberof village gossips whose acquaintance he had cultivated.

  "I'm sure, Watson, a week in the country will be invaluable to you," heremarked. "It is very pleasant to see the first green shoots upon thehedges and the catkins on the hazels once again. With a spud, a tinbox, and an elementary book on botany, there are instructive days to bespent." He prowled about with this equipment himself, but it was apoor show of plants which he would bring back of an evening.

  Occasionally in our rambles we came across Inspector Baynes. His fat,red face wreathed itself in smiles and his small eyes glittered as hegreeted my companion. He said little about the case, but from thatlittle we gathered that he also was not dissatisfied at the course ofevents. I must admit, however, that I was somewhat surprised when,some five days after the crime, I opened my morning paper to find inlarge letters:

  THE OXSHOTT MYSTERY A SOLUTION ARREST OF SUPPOSED ASSASSIN

  Holmes sprang in his chair as if he had been stung when I read theheadlines.

  "By Jove!" he cried. "You don't mean that Baynes
has got him?"

  "Apparently," said I as I read the following report:

  "Great excitement was caused in Esher and the neighbouring districtwhen it was learned late last night that an arrest had been effected inconnection with the Oxshott murder. It will be remembered that Mr.Garcia, of Wisteria Lodge, was found dead on Oxshott Common, his bodyshowing signs of extreme violence, and that on the same night hisservant and his cook fled, which appeared to show their participationin the crime. It was suggested, but never proved, that the deceasedgentleman may have had valuables in the house, and that theirabstraction was the motive of the crime. Every effort was made byInspector Baynes, who has the case in hand, to ascertain the