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1926
SHERLOCK HOLMES
THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLANCHED SOLDIER
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
The ideas of my friend Watson, though limited, are exceedingly
pertinacious. For a long time he has worried me to write an experience
of my own. Perhaps I have rather invited this persecution, since I
have often had occasion to point out to him how superficial are his
own accounts and to accuse him of pandering to popular taste instead
of confining himself rigidly to facts and figures. "Try it yourself,
Holmes!" he has retorted, and I am compelled to admit that, having
taken my pen in my hand, I do begin to realize that the matter must be
presented in such a way as may interest the reader. The following case
can hardly fail to do so, as it is among the strangest happenings in
my collection, though it chanced that Watson had no note of it in
his collection. Speaking of my old friend and biographer, I would take
this opportunity to remark that if I burden myself with a companion in
my various little inquiries it is not done out of sentiment or
caprice, but it is that Watson has some remarkable characteristics
of his own to which in his modesty he has given small attention amid
his exaggerated estimates of my own performances. A confederate who
foresees your conclusions and course of action is always dangerous,
but one to whom each development comes as a perpetual surprise, and to
whom the future is always a closed book, is indeed an ideal helpmate.
I find from my notebook that it was in January, 1903, just after the
conclusion of the Boer War, that I had my visit from Mr. James M.
Dodd, a big, fresh, sunburned, upstanding Briton. The good Watson
had at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which
I can recall in our association. I was alone.
It is my habit to sit with my back to the window and to place my
visitors in the opposite chair, where the light falls full upon
them. Mr. James M. Dodd seemed somewhat at a loss how to begin the
interview. I did not attempt to help him, for his silence gave me more
time for observation. I have found it wise to impress clients with a
sense of power, and so I gave him some of my conclusions.
"From South Africa, sir, I perceive."
"Yes, sir," he answered, with some surprise.
"Imperial Yeomanry, I fancy."
"Exactly."
"Middlesex Corps, no doubt."
"That is so. Mr. Holmes, you are a wizard."
I smiled at his bewildered expression.
"When a gentleman of virile appearance enters my room with such
tan upon his face as an English sun could never give, and with his
handkerchief in his sleeve instead of in his pocket, it is not
difficult to place him. You wear a short beard, which shows that you
were not a regular. You have the cut of a riding-man. As to Middlesex,
your card has already shown me that you are a stockbroker from
Throgmorton Street. What other regiment would you join?"
"You see everything."
"I see no more than you, but I have trained myself to notice what
I see. However, Mr. Dodd, it was not to discuss the science of
observation that you called upon me this morning. What has been
happening at Tuxbury Old Park?"
"Mr. Holmes-!"
"My dear sir, there is no mystery. Your letter came with that
heading, and as you fixed this appointment in very pressing terms it
was clear that something sudden and important had occurred."
"Yes, indeed. But the letter was written in the afternoon, and a
good deal has happened since, then. If Colonel Emsworth had not kicked
me out-"
"Kicked you out!"
"Well that was what it amounted to. He is a hard nail, is Colonel
Emsworth. The greatest martinet in the Army in his day, and it was a
day of rough language, too. I couldn't have stuck the colonel if it
had not been for Godfrey's sake."
I lit my pipe and leaned back in my chair.
"Perhaps you will explain what you are talking about."
My client grinned mischievously.
"I had got into the way of supposing that you knew everything
without being told," said he. "But I will give you the facts, and I
hope to God that you will be able to tell me what they mean. I've been
awake all night puzzling my brain, and the more I think the more
incredible does it become.
"When I joined up in January, 1901- just two years ago- young
Godfrey Emsworth had joined the same squadron. He was Colonel
Emsworth's only son- Emsworth, the Crimean V.C.- and he had the
fighting blood in him, so it is no wonder he volunteered. There was
not a finer lad in the regiment. We formed a friendship- the sort of
friendship which can only be made when one lives the same life and
shares the same joys and sorrows. He was my mate- and that means a
good deal in the Army. We took the rough and the smooth together for a
year of hard fighting. Then he was hit with a bullet from an
elephant gun in the action near Diamond Hill outside Pretoria. I got
one letter from the hospital at Cape Town and one from South
Hampton. Since then not a word- not one word, Mr. Holmes, for six
months and more, and he my closest pal.
"Well, when the war was over, and we all got back, I wrote to his
father and asked where Godfrey was. No answer. I waited a bit and then
I wrote again. This time I had a reply, short and gruff. Godfrey had
gone on a voyage round the world, and it was not likely that he
would be back for a year. That was all.
"I wasn't satisfied, Mr. Holmes. The whole thing seemed to me so
damned unnatural. He was a good lad, and he would not drop a pal
like that. It was not like him. Then, again, I happened to know that
he was heir to a lot of money, and also that his father and he did not
always hit it off too well. The old man was sometimes a bully, and
young Godfrey had too much spirit to stand it. No, I wasn't satisfied,
and I determined that I would get to the root of the matter. It
happened, however, that my own affairs needed a lot of straightening
out, after two years' absence, and so it is only this week that I have
been able to take up Godfrey's case again. But since I have taken it
up I mean to drop everything in order to see it through."
Mr. James M. Dodd appeared to be the sort of person whom it would be
better to have as a friend than as an enemy. His blue eyes were
stern and his square jaw had set hard as he spoke.
"Well, what have you done?" I asked.
"My first move was to get down to his home, Tuxbury Old Park, near
Bedford, and to see for myself how the ground lay. I wrote to the
mother, therefore- I had had quite enough of the curmudgeon of a
father- and I made a clean frontal attack: Godfrey was my chum, I
had a great deal of interest which I might tell her of our common
experiences, I should be in the neighbourhood, would there be any
objection, et cetera? In reply I had quite an amiable answer from
her and an offer to put me up for the night. That was what took me
down on Monday.
"Tuxbury Old Hall is inaccessible- five miles from anywhere. There
was no trap at the station, so I had to walk, carrying my suitcase,
and it was nearly dark before I arrived. It is a great wandering
house, standing in a considerable park. I should judge it was of all
sorts of ages and styles, starting on a half-timbered Elizabethan
foundation and ending in a Victorian portico. Inside it was all
panelling and tapestry and half-effaced old pictures, a house of
shadows and mystery. There was a butler, old Ralph, who seemed about
the same age as the house, and there was his wife, who might have been
older. She had been Godfrey's nurse, and I had heard him speak of
her as second only to his mother in his affections, so I was drawn
to her in spite of her queer appearance. The mother I liked also- a
gentle little white mouse of a woman. It was only the colonel
himself whom I barred.
"We had a bit of barney right away, and I should have walked back to
the station if I had not felt that it might be playing his game for me
to do so. I was shown straight into his study, and there I found
him, a huge, bow-backed man with a smoky skin and a straggling gray
beard, seated behind his littered desk. A red-veined nose jutted out
like a vulture's beak, and two fierce gray eyes glared at me from
under tufted brows. I could understand now why Godfrey seldom spoke of
his father.
"'Well, sir,' said he in a rasping voice, 'I should be interested to
know the real reasons for this visit.'
"I answered that I had explained them in my letter to his wife.
"'Yes, yes, you said that you had known Godfrey in Africa. We
have, of course, only your word for that.'
"'I have his letters to me in my pocket.'
"'Kindly let me see them.'
"He glanced at the two which I handed him, and then he tossed them
back.
"'Well, what then?' he asked.
"'I was fond of your son Godfrey, sir. Many ties and memories united
us. Is it not natural that I should wonder at his sudden silence and
should wish to know what has become of him?'
"'I have some recollections, sir, that I had already corresponded
with you and had told you what had become of him. He has gone upon a
voyage round the world. His health was in a poor way after his African
experiences, and both his mother and I were of opinion that complete
rest and change were needed. Kindly pass that explanation on to any
other friends who may be interested in the matter.'
"'Certainly,' I answered. 'But perhaps you would have the goodness
to let me have the name of the steamer and of the line by which he
sailed, together with the date. I have no doubt that I should be
able to get a letter through to him.'
"My request seemed both to puzzle and to irritate my host. His great
eyebrows came down over his eyes, and he tapped his fingers
impatiently on the table. He looked up at last with the expression
of one who has seen his adversary make a dangerous move at chess,
and has decided how to meet it.
"'Many people, Mr. Dodd,' said he, 'would take offence at your
infernal pertinacity and would think that this insistence had
reached the point of damned impertinence.'
"'You must put it down, sir, to my real love for your son.'
"'Exactly. I have already made every allowance upon that score. I
must ask you, however, to drop these inquiries. Every family has its
own inner knowledge and its own motives, which cannot always be made
clear to outsiders, however well-intentioned. My wife is anxious to
hear something of Godfrey's past which you are in a position to tell
her, but I would ask you to let the present and the future alone, Such
inquiries serve no useful purpose, sir, and place us in a delicate and
difficult position.'
"So I came to a dead end, Mr. Holmes. There was no getting past
it. I could only pretend to accept the situation and register a vow
inwardly that I would never rest until my friend's fate had been
cleared up. It was a dull evening. We dined quietly, the three of
us, in a gloomy faded old room. The lady questioned me eagerly about
her son, but the old man seemed morose and depressed. I was so bored
by the whole proceeding that I made an excuse as soon as I decently
could and retired to my bedroom. It was a large, bare room on the
ground floor, as gloomy as the rest of the house, but after a year
of sleeping upon the veldt, Mr. Holmes, one is not too particular
about one's quarters. I opened the curtains and looked out into the
garden, remarking that it was a fine night with a bright half-moon.
Then I sat down by the roaring fire with the lamp on a table beside
me, and endeavoured to distract my mind with a novel. I was
interrupted, however, by Ralph, the old butler, who came in with a
fresh supply of coals.
"'I thought you might run short in the night-time, sir. It is bitter
weather and these rooms are cold.'
"He hesitated before leaving the room, and when I looked round he
was standing facing me with a wistful look upon his wrinkled face.
"'Beg your pardon, sir, but I could not help hearing what you said
of young Master Godfrey at dinner. You know, sir, that my wife
nursed him, and so I may say I am his foster-father. It's natural we
should take an interest. And you say he carried himself well, sir?'
"'There was never a braver man in the regiment. He pulled me out
once from under the rifles of the Boers, or maybe I should not be
here.'
"The old butler rubbed his skinny hands.
"'Yes, sir, yes, that is Master Godfrey all over. He was always
courageous. There's not a tree in the park, sir, that he has not
climbed. Nothing would stop him. He was a fine boy- and oh, sir, he
was a fine man.'
"I sprang to my feet.
"'Look here!' I cried. 'You say he was. You speak as if he were
dead. What is all this mystery? What has become of Godfrey Emsworth?'
"I gripped the old man by the shoulder, but he shrank away.
"'I don't know what you mean, sir. Ask the master about Master
Godfrey. He knows. It is not for me to interfere.'
"He was leaving the room, but I held his arm.
"'Listen,' I said. 'You are going to answer one question before
you leave if I have to hold you all night. Is Godfrey dead?'
"He could not face my eyes. He was like a man hypnotized. The answer
was dragged from his lips. It was a terrible and unexpected one.
"'I wish to God he was!' he cried, and, tearing himself free, he
dashed from the room.
"You will think, Mr. Holmes, that I returned to my chair in no
very happy state of mind. The old man's words seemed to me to bear
only one interpretation. Clearly my poor friend had become involved in
some criminal or, at the least, disreputable transaction which touched
the family honour. That stern old man had sent his son away and hidden
him from the world lest some scandal should come to light. Godfrey was
a reckless fellow. He was easily influenced by those around him. No
doubt he had fallen into bad hands and been misled to his ruin. It was
a piteous business, if it was indeed so, but even now it was my duty
to hunt him out and see if I could aid him. I was anxiously
pondering the matter when I looked up, and there was Godfrey
Emsworth standing before me."
My client had paused as one in deep emotion.
"Pray continue," I said. "Your problem presents some very unusual
features."
"He was outside the window, Mr. Holmes, with his face pressed
against the glass. I have told you that I looked out at the night.
When I did so I left the curtains partly open. His figure was framed
in this gap. The window came down to the ground and I could see the
whole length of it, but it was his face which held my gaze. He was
deadly pale- never have I seen a man so white. I reckon ghosts may
look like that; but his eyes met mine, and they were the eyes of a
living man. He sprang back when he saw that I was looking at him,
and he vanished into the darkness.
"There was something shocking about the man, Mr. Holmes. It wasn't
merely that ghastly face glimmering as white as cheese in the
darkness. It was more subtle than that- something slinking,
something furtive, something guilty- something very unlike the
frank, manly lad that I had known. It left a feeling of horror in my
mind.
"But when a man has been soldiering for a year or two with brother
Boer as a playmate, he keeps his nerve and acts quickly. Godfrey had
hardly vanished before I was at the window. There was an awkward
catch, and I was some little time before I could throw it up. Then I
nipped through and ran down the garden path in the direction that I
thought he might have taken.
"It was a long path and the light was not very good, but it seemed
to me something was moving ahead of me. I ran on and called his
name, but it was no use. When I got to the end of the path there
were several others branching in different directions to various
outhouses. I stood hesitating, and as I did so I heard distinctly
the sound of a closing door. It was not behind me in the house, but
ahead of me, somewhere in the darkness. That was enough, Mr. Holmes,
to assure me that what I had seen was not a vision. Godfrey had run
away from me, and he had shut a door behind him. Of that I was
certain.
"There was nothing more I could do, and I spent an uneasy night
turning the matter over in my mind and trying to find some theory
which would cover the facts. Next day I found the colonel rather
more conciliatory, and as his wife remarked that there were some
places of interest in the neighbourhood, it gave me an opening to
ask whether my presence for one more night would incommode them. A
somewhat grudging acquiescence from the old man gave me a clear day in
which to make my observations. I was already perfectly convinced
that Godfrey was in hiding somewhere near, but where and why
remained to be solved.
"The house was so large and so rambling that a regiment might be hid
away in it and no one the wiser. If the secret lay there it was
difficult for me to penetrate it. But the door which I had heard close
was certainly not in the house. I must explore the garden and see what
I could find. There was no difficulty in the way, for the old people
were busy in their own fashion and left me to my own devices.
"There were several small outhouses, but at the end of the garden
there was a detached building of some size- large enough for a
gardener's or a gamekeeper's residence. Could this be the place whence
the sound of that shutting door had come? I approached it in a
careless fashion as though I were strolling aimlessly round the
grounds. As I did so, a small, brisk, bearded man in a black coat
and bowler hat- not at all the gardener type- came out of the door. To
my surprise, he locked it after him and put the key in his pocket.
Then he looked at me with some surprise on his face.
"'Are you a visitor here?' he asked.
"I explained that I was and that I was a friend of Godfrey's.
"'What a pity that he should be away on his travels, for he would
have so liked to see me,' I continued.
"'Quite so. Exactly,' said he with a rather guilty air. 'No doubt
you will renew your visit at some more propitious time.' He passed on,
but when I turned I observed that he was standing watching me,
half-concealed by the laurels at the far end of the garden.
"I had a good look at that little house as I passed it, but the
windows were heavily curtained, and, so far as one could see, it was
empty. I might spoil my own game and even be ordered off the
premises if I were too audacious, for I was still conscious that I was
being watched. Therefore, I strolled back to the house and waited
for night before I went on with my inquiry. When all was dark and
quiet I slipped out of my window and made my way as silently as
possible to the mysterious lodge.
"I have said that it was heavily curtained, but now I found that the
windows were shuttered as well. Some light, however, was breaking
through one of them, so I concentrated my attention upon this. I was
in luck, for the curtain had not been quite closed, and there was a
crack in the shutter, so that I could see the inside of the room. It
was a cheery place enough, a bright lamp and a blazing fire.
Opposite to me was seated the little man whom I had seen in the
morning. He was smoking a pipe and reading a paper."
"What paper?" I asked.
My client seemed annoyed at the interruption of his narrative.
"Can it matter?" he asked.
"It is most essential"
"I really took no notice."
"Possibly you observed whether it was a broad-leafed paper or of
that smaller type which one associates with weeklies."
"Now that you mention it, it was not large. It might have been the
Spectator. However, I had little thought to spare upon such details,
for a second man was seated with his back to the window, and I could
swear that this second man was Godfrey. I could not see his face,
but I knew the familiar slope of his shoulders. He was leaning upon
his elbow in an attitude of great melancholy, his body turned
towards the fire. I was hesitating as to what I should do when there
was a sharp tap on my shoulder, and there was Colonel Emsworth
beside me.
"'This way, sir!' said he in a low voice. He walked in silence to
the house, and I followed him into my own bedroom. He had picked up
a time-table in the hall.
"'There is a train to London at 8:30,' said he. 'The trap will be at
the door at eight.'
"He was white with rage, and, indeed, I felt myself in so
difficult a position that I could only stammer out a few incoherent
apologies in which I tried to excuse myself by urging my anxiety for
my friend.
"'The matter will not bear discussion,' said he abruptly. 'You
have made a most damnable intrusion into the privacy of our family.
You were here as a guest and you have become a spy. I have nothing
more to say, sir, save that I have no wish ever to see you again.'
"At this I lost my temper, Mr. Holmes, and I spoke with some warmth.
"'I have seen your son, and I am convinced that for some reason of
your own you are concealing him from the world. I have no idea what
your motives are in cutting him off in this fashion, but I am sure
that he is no longer a free agent. I warn you, Colonel Emsworth,
that until I am assured as to the safety and well-being of my friend I
shall never desist in my efforts to get to the bottom of the
mystery, and I shall certainly not allow myself to be intimidated by
anything which you may say or do.'
"The old fellow looked diabolical, and I really thought he was about
to attack me. I have said that he was a gaunt, fierce old giant, and
though I am no weakling I might have been hard put to it to hold my
own against him. However, after a long glare of rage he turned upon
his heel and walked out of the room. For my part, I took the appointed
train in the morning, with the full intention of coming straight to
you and asking for your advice and assistance at the appointment for
which I had already written."
Such was the problem which my visitor laid before me. It
presented, as the astute reader will have already perceived, few
difficulties in its solution, for a very limited choice of
alternatives must get to the root of the matter. Still, elementary
as it was, there were points of interest and novelty about it which
may excuse my placing it upon record. I now proceeded, using my
familiar method of logical analysis, to narrow down the possible
solutions.
"The servants," I asked; "how many were in the house?"
"To the best of my belief there were only the old butler and his
wife. They seemed to live in the simplest fashion."
"There was no servant, then, in the detached house?"
"None, unless the little man with the beard acted as such. He
seemed, however, to be quite a superior person."
"That seems very suggestive. Had you any indication that food was
conveyed from the one house to the other?"
"Now that you mention it, I did see old Ralph carrying a basket down
the garden walk and going in the direction of this house. The idea
of food did not occur to me at the moment."
"Did you make any local inquiries?"
"Yes, I did. I spoke to the station-master and also to the innkeeper
in the village. I simply asked if they knew anything of my old
comrade, Godfrey Emsworth. Both of them assured me that he had gone
for a voyage round the world. He had come home and then had almost
at once started off again. The story was evidently universally
accepted."
"You said nothing of your suspicions?"
"Nothing."
"That was very wise. The matter should certainly be inquired into. I
will go back with you to Tuxbury Old Park."
"To-day?"
It happened that at the moment I was clearing up the case which my
friend Watson has described as that of the Abbey School, in which
the Duke of Greyminster was so deeply involved. I had also a
commission from the Sultan of Turkey which called for immediate
action, as political consequences of the gravest kind might arise from
its neglect. Therefore it was not until the beginning of the next
week, as my diary records, that I was able to start forth on my
mission to Bedfordshire in company with Mr. James M. Dodd. As we drove
to Euston we picked up a grave and taciturn gentleman of iron-gray
aspect, with whom I had made the necessary arrangements.
"This is an old friend," said I to Dodd. "It is possible that his
presence may be entirely unnecessary, and, on the other hand, it may
be essential. It is not necessary at the present stage to go further
into the matter."
The narratives of Watson, have accustomed the reader, no doubt, to
the fact that I do not waste words or disclose my thoughts while a
case is actually under consideration. Dodd seemed surprised, but
nothing more was said, and the three of us continued our journey
together. in the train I asked Dodd one more question which I wished
our companion to hear.
"You say that you saw your friend's face quite clearly at the
window, so clearly that you are sure of his identity?"
"I have no doubt about it whatever. His nose was pressed against the
glass. The lamplight shone full upon him."
"It could not have been someone resembling him?"
"No, no, it was he."
"But you say he was changed?"
"Only in colour. His face was- how shall I describe it?- it was of a
fish-belly whiteness. It was bleached."
"Was it equally pale all over?"
"I think not. It was his brow which I saw so clearly as it was
pressed against the window."
"Did you call to him?"
"I was too startled and horrified for the moment. Then I pursued
him, as I have told you, but without result."
My case was practically complete, and there was only one small
incident needed to round it off. When, after considerable drive, we
arrived at the strange old rambling house which my client had
described, it was Ralph, the elderly butler, who opened the door. I
had requisitioned the carriage for the day and had asked my elderly
friend to remain within it unless we should summon him. Ralph, a
little wrinkled old fellow, was in the conventional costume of black
coat and pepper-and-salt trousers, with only one curious variant. He
wore brown leather gloves, which at sight of us he instantly
shuffled off, laying them down on the hall-table as we passed in. I
have, as my friend Watson may have remarked, an abnormally acute set
of senses, and a faint but incisive scent was apparent. It seemed to
centre on the hall-table. I turned, placed my hat there, knocked it
off, stooped to pick it up, and contrived to bring my nose within a
foot of the gloves. Yes, it was undoubtedly from them that the curious
tarry odour was oozing. I passed on into the study with my case
complete. Alas, that I should have to show my hand so when I tell my
own story! It was by concealing such links in the chain that Watson
was enabled to produce his meretricious finales.
Colonel Emsworth was not in his room, but he came quickly enough
on receipt of Ralph's message. We heard his quick, heavy step in the
passage. The door was flung open and he rushed in with bristling beard
and twisted features, as terrible an old man as ever I have seen. He
held our cards in his hand, and he tore them up and stamped on the
fragments.
"Have I not told you, you infernal busybody, that you are warned off
the premises? Never dare to show your damned face here again. If you
enter again without my leave I shall be within my rights if I use
violence. I'll shoot you, sir! By God, I will! As to you, sir,"
turning upon me, "I extend the same warning to you. I am familiar with
your ignoble profession, but you must take your reputed talents to
some other field. There is no opening for them here."
"I cannot leave here," said my client firmly, "until I hear from
Godfrey's own lips that he is under no restraint."
Our involuntary host rang the bell.
"Ralph," he said, "telephone down to the county police and ask the
inspector to send up two constables. Tell him there are burglars in
the house."
"One moment," said I. "You must be aware, Mr. Dodd, that Colonel
Emsworth is within his rights and that we have no legal status
within his house. On the other hand, he should recognize that your
action is prompted entirely by solicitude for his son. I venture to
hope that if I were allowed to have five minutes' conversation with
Colonel Emsworth I could certainly alter his view of the matter."
"I am not so easily altered," said the old soldier. "Ralph, do
what I have told you. What the devil are you waiting for? Ring up
the police!"
"Nothing of the sort," I said, putting my back to the door. "Any
police interference would bring about the very catastrophe which you
dread." I took out my notebook and scribbled one word upon a loose
sheet. "That," said I as I handed it to Colonel Emsworth, "is what has
brought us here."
He stared at the writing with a face from which every expression
save amazement had vanished.
"How do you know?" he gasped, sitting down heavily in his chair.
"It is my business to know things. That is my trade."
He sat in deep thought, his gaunt hand tugging at his straggling
beard. Then he made a gesture of resignation.
"Well, if you wish to see Godfrey, you shall. It is no doing of
mine, but you have forced my hand. Ralph, tell Mr. Godfrey and Mr.
Kent that in five minutes we shall be with them."
At the end of that time we passed down the garden path and found
ourselves in front of the mystery house at the end. A small bearded
man stood at the door with a look of considerable astonishment upon
his face.
"This is very sudden, Colonel Emsworth," said he. "This will
disarrange all our plans."
"I can't help it, Mr. Kent. Our hands have been forced. Can Mr.
Godfrey see us?"
"Yes, he is waiting inside." He turned and led us into a large,
plainly furnished front room. A man was standing with his back to
the fire, and at the sight of him my client sprang forward with
outstretched hand.
"Why, Godfrey, old man, this is fine!"
But the other waved him back.
"Don't touch me, Jimmie. Keep your distance. Yes, you may well
stare! I don't quite look the smart Lance-Corporal Emsworth, of B
Squadron, do I?"
His appearance was certainly extraordinary. One could see that he
had indeed been a handsome man with clear-cut features sunburned by an
African sun, but mottled in patches over this darker surface were
curious whitish patches which had bleached his skin.
"That's why I don't court visitors," said he. "I don't mind you,
Jimmie, but I could have done without your friend. I suppose there
is some good reason for it, but you have me at a disadvantage."
"I wanted to be sure that all was well with you, Godfrey. I saw
you that night when you looked into my window, and I could not let the
matter rest till I had cleared things up."
"Old Ralph told me you were there, and I couldn't help taking a peep
at you. I hoped you would not have seen me, and I had to run to my
burrow when I heard the window go up."
"But what in heaven's name is the matter?"
"Well, it's not a long story to tell," said he, lighting a
cigarette. "You remember that morning fight at Buffelsspruit,
outside Pretoria, on the Eastern railway line? You heard I was hit?"
"Yes, I heard that, but I never got particulars."
"Three of us got separated from the others. It was very broken
country, you may remember. There was Simpson- the fellow we called
Baldy Simpson- and Anderson, and I. We were clearing brother Boer, but
he lay low and got the three of us. The other two were killed. I got
an elephant bullet through my shoulder. I stuck on to my horse,
however, and he galloped several miles before I fainted and rolled off
the saddle.
"When I came to myself it was nightfall, and I raised myself up,
feeling very weak and ill. To my surprise there was a house close
beside me, a fairly large house with a broad stoop and many windows.
It was deadly cold. You remember the kind of numb cold which used to
come at evening, a deadly, sickening sort of cold, very different from
a crisp healthy frost. Well I was chilled to the bone, and my only
hope seemed to lie in reaching that house. I staggered to my feet
and dragged myself along, hardly conscious of what I did. I have a dim
memory of slowly ascending the steps, entering a wide-opened door,
passing into a large room which contained several beds, and throwing
myself down with a gasp of satisfaction upon one of them. It was
unmade, but that troubled me not at all. I drew the clothes over my
shivering body and in a moment I was in a deep sleep.
"It was morning when I wakened, and it seemed to me that instead
of coming out into a world of sanity I had emerged into some
extraordinary nightmare. The out African sun flooded through the
big, curtainless windows, and every detail of the great, bare,
whitewashed dormitory stood out hard and clear. In front of me was
standing a small, dwarf-like man with a huge, bulbous head, who was
jabbering excitedly in Dutch, waving two horrible hands which looked
to me like brown sponges. Behind him stood a group of people who
seemed to be intensely amused by the situation, but a chill came
over me as I looked at them. Not one of them was a normal human being.
Every one was twisted or swollen or disfigured in some strange way.
The laughter of these strange monstrosities was a dreadful thing to
hear.
"It seemed that none of them could speak English, but the
situation wanted clearing up, for the creature with the big head was
growing furiously angry, and, uttering wild-beast cries, he had laid
his deformed hands upon me and was dragging me out of bed,
regardless of the fresh flow of blood from my wound. The little
monster was as strong as a bull, and I don't know what he might have
done to me had not an elderly man who was clearly in authority been
attracted to the room by the hubbub. He said a few stern words in
Dutch, and my persecutor shrank away. Then he turned upon me, gazing
at me in the utmost amazement.
"'How in the world did you come here?' he asked in amazement.
'Wait a bit! I see that you are tired out and that wounded shoulder of
yours wants looking after. I am a doctor, and I'll soon have you
tied up. But, man alive! you are in far greater danger here than
ever you were on the battlefield. You are in the Leper Hospital, and
you have slept in a leper's bed.'
"Need I tell you more, Jimmie? It seems that in view of the
approaching battle all these poor creatures had been evacuated the day
before. Then, as the British advanced, they had been brought back by
this, their medical superintendent, who assured me that, though he
believed he was immune to the disease, he would none the less never
have dared to do what I had done. He put me in a private room, treated
me kindly, and within a week or so I was removed to the general
hospital at Pretoria.
"So there you have my tragedy. I hoped against hope, but it was
not until I had reached home that the terrible signs which you see
upon my face told me that I had not escaped. What was I to do? I was
in this lonely house. We had two servants whom we could utterly trust.
There was a house where I could live. Under pledge of secrecy, Mr.
Kent, who is a surgeon, was prepared to stay with me. It seemed simple
enough on those lines. The alternative was a dreadful one- segregation
for life among strangers with never a hope of release. But absolute
secrecy was necessary, or even in this quiet countryside there would
have been an outcry, and I should have been dragged to my horrible
doom. Even you, Jimmie- even you had to be kept in the dark. Why my
father has relented I cannot imagine."
Colonel Emsworth pointed to me.
"This is the gentleman who forced my hand." He unfolded the scrap of
paper on which I had written the word "Leprosy." "It seemed to me that
if he knew so much as that it was safer that he should know all."
"And so it was," said I. "Who knows but good may come of it? I
understand that only Mr. Kent has seen the patient. May I ask, sir, if
you are an authority on such complaints, which are, I understand,
tropical or semi-tropical in their nature?"
"I have the ordinary knowledge of the educated medical man," he
observed with some stiffness.
"I have no doubt, sir, that you are fully competent, but I am sure
that you will agree that in such a case a second opinion is
valuable. You have avoided this, I understand, for fear that
pressure should be put upon you to segregate the patient."
"That is so," said Colonel Emsworth.
"I foresaw this situation," I explained, "and I have brought with me
a friend whose discretion may absolutely be trusted. I was able once
to do him a professional service, and he is ready to advise as a
friend rather than as a specialist. His name is Sir James Saunders."
The prospect of an interview with Lord Roberts would not have
excited greater wonder and pleasure in a raw subaltern than was now
reflected upon the face of Mr. Kent.
"I shall indeed be proud," he murmured.
"Then I will ask Sir James to step this way. He is at present in the
carriage outside the door. Meanwhile, Colonel Emsworth, we may perhaps
assemble in your study, where I could give the necessary
explanations."
And here it is that I miss my Watson. By cunning questions and
ejaculations of wonder he could elevate my simple art, which is but
systematized common sense, into a prodigy. When I tell my own story
I have no such aid. And yet I will give my process of thought even
as I gave it to my small audience, which included Godfrey's mother
in the study of Colonel Emsworth.
"That process," said I, "starts upon the supposition that when you
have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains,
however improbable, must be the truth. It may well be that several
explanations remain, in which case one tries test after test until one
or other of them has a convincing amount of support. We will now apply
this principle to the case in point. As it was first presented to
me, there were three possible explanations of the seclusion or
incarceration of this gentleman in an outhouse of his father's
mansion. There was the explanation, that he was in hiding for a crime,
or that he was mad and that they wished to avoid an asylum, or that he
had some disease which caused his segregation. I could think of no
other adequate solutions. These, then, had to be sifted and balanced
against each other.
"The criminal solution would not bear inspection. No unsolved
crime had been reported from that district. I was sure of that. If
it were some crime not yet discovered, then clearly it would be to the
interest of the family to get rid of the delinquent and send him
abroad rather than keep him concealed at home. I could see no
explanation for such a line of conduct.
"Insanity was more plausible. The presence of the second person in
the outhouse suggested a keeper. The fact that he locked the door when
he came out strengthened the supposition and gave the idea of
constraint. On the other hand, this constraint could not be severe
or the young man could not have got loose and come down to have a look
at his friend. You, will remember, Mr. Dodd, that I felt round for
points, asking you, for example, about the paper which Mr. Kent was
reading. Had it been the Lancet or the British Medical Journal it
would have helped me. It is not illegal, however, to keep a lunatic
upon private premises so long as there is a qualified person in
attendance and that the authorities have been duly notified. Why,
then, all this desperate desire for secrecy? Once again I could not
get the theory to fit the facts.
"There remained the third possibility, into which, rare and unlikely
as it was, everything seemed to fit. Leprosy is not uncommon in
South Africa. By some extraordinary chance this youth might have
contracted it. His people would be placed in a very dreadful position,
since they would desire to save him from segregation. Great secrecy
would be needed to prevent rumours from getting about and subsequent
interference by the authorities. A devoted medical man, if
sufficiently paid, would easily be found to take chance of the
sufferer. There would be no reason why the latter should not he
allowed freedom after dark. Bleaching of the skin is a common result
of the disease. The case was a strong one- so strong that I determined
to act as if it were actually proved. When on arriving here I
noticed that Ralph, who carries out the meals, had gloves which are
impregnated with disinfectants, my last doubts were removed. A
single word showed you, sir, that your secret was discovered, and if I
wrote rather than said it, it was to prove to you that my discretion
was to be trusted."
I was finishing this little analysis of the case when the door was
opened and the austere figure of the great dermatologist was ushered
in. But for once his sphinx-like features had relaxed and there was
a warm humanity in his eyes. He strode up to Colonel Emsworth and
shook him by the hand.
"It is often my lot to bring ill-tidings and seldom good," said
he. "This occasion is the more welcome. It is not leprosy."
"A well-marked case of pseudo-leprosy or ichthyosis, a scale-like
affection of the skin, unsightly, obstinate, but possibly curable, and
certainly noninfective. Yes, Mr. Holmes, the coincidence is a
remarkable one. But is it coincidence? Are there not subtle forces
at work of which we know little? Are we assured that the
apprehension from which this young man has no doubt suffered
terribly since his exposure to its contagion may not produce a
physical effect which simulates that which it fears? At any rate, I
pledge my professional reputation- But the lady has fainted! I think
that Mr. Kent had better be with her until she recovers from this
joyous shock."
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-THE END-