sherlock.txt

                        THE ADVENTURE OF THE DANCING MEN

                               Arthur Conan Doyle



     Holmes had been seated for some hours in silence with his long, thin
     back curved over a chemical vessel in which he was brewing a
     particularly malodorous product. His head was sunk upon his breast,
     and he looked from my point of view like a strange, lank bird, with
     dull grey plumage and a black top-knot.

     "So, Watson," said he, suddenly, "you do not propose to invest in
     South African securities?"

     I gave a start of astonishment. Accustomed as I was to Holmes's
     curious faculties, this sudden intrusion into my most intimate
     thoughts was utterly inexplicable.

     "How on earth do you know that?" I asked.

     He wheeled round upon his stool, with a steaming test-tube in his
     hand and a gleam of amusement in his deep-set eyes.

     "Now, Watson, confess yourself utterly taken aback," said he.

     "I am."

     "I ought to make you sign a paper to that effect."

     "Why?"

     "Because in five minutes you will say that it is all so absurdly
     simple."

     "I am sure that I shall say nothing of the kind."

     "You see, my dear Watson"--he propped his test-tube in the rack and
     began to lecture with the air of a professor addressing his
     class--"it is not really difficult to construct a series of
     inferences, each dependent upon its predecessor and each simple in
     itself. If, after doing so, one simply knocks out all the central
     inferences and presents one's audience with the starting-point and
     the conclusion, one may produce a startling, though possibly a
     meretricious, effect. Now, it was not really difficult, by an
     inspection of the groove between your left forefinger and thumb, to
     feel sure that you did not propose to invest your small capital in
     the goldfields."

     "I see no connection."

     "Very likely not; but I can quickly show you a close connection. Here
     are the missing links of the very simple chain: 1. You had chalk
     between your left finger and thumb when you returned from the club
     last night. 2. You put chalk there when you play billiards to steady
     the cue. 3. You never play billiards except with Thurston. 4. You
     told me four weeks ago that Thurston had an option on some South
     African property which would expire in a month, and which he desired
     you to share with him. 5. Your cheque-book is locked in my drawer,
     and you have not asked for the key. 6. You do not propose to invest
     your money in this manner."

     "How absurdly simple!" I cried.

     "Quite so!" said he, a little nettled. "Every problem becomes very
     childish when once it is explained to you. Here is an unexplained
     one. See what you can make of that, friend Watson." He tossed a sheet
     of paper upon the table and turned once more to his chemical
     analysis.

     I looked with amazement at the absurd hieroglyphics upon the paper.

     "Why, Holmes, it is a child's drawing," I cried.

     "Oh, that's your idea!"

     "What else should it be?"

     "That is what Mr. Hilton Cubitt, of Ridling Thorpe Manor, Norfolk, is
     very anxious to know. This little conundrum came by the first post,
     and he was to follow by the next train. There's a ring at the bell,
     Watson. I should not be very much surprised if this were he."

     A heavy step was heard upon the stairs, and an instant later there
     entered a tall, ruddy, clean-shaven gentleman, whose clear eyes and
     florid cheeks told of a life led far from the fogs of Baker Street.
     He seemed to bring a whiff of his strong, fresh, bracing, east-coast
     air with him as he entered. Having shaken hands with each of us, he
     was about to sit down when his eye rested upon the paper with the
     curious markings, which I had just examined and left upon the table.

     "Well, Mr. Holmes, what do you make of these?" he cried. "They told
     me that you were fond of queer mysteries, and I don't think you can
     find a queerer one than that. I sent the paper on ahead so that you
     might have time to study it before I came."

     "It is certainly rather a curious production," said Holmes. "At first
     sight it would appear to be some childish prank. It consists of a
     number of absurd little figures dancing across the paper upon which
     they are drawn. Why should you attribute any importance to so
     grotesque an object?"

     "I never should, Mr. Holmes. But my wife does. It is frightening her
     to death. She says nothing, but I can see terror in her eyes. That's
     why I want to sift the matter to the bottom."

     Holmes held up the paper so that the sunlight shone full upon it. It
     was a page torn from a note-book. The markings were done in pencil,
     and ran in this way:--

     [ Picture: Picture of several figures of dancing men, some holding
     flags ]

     Holmes examined it for some time, and then, folding it carefully up,
     he placed it in his pocket-book.

     "This promises to be a most interesting and unusual case," said he.
     "You gave me a few particulars in your letter, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, but
     I should be very much obliged if you would kindly go over it all
     again for the benefit of my friend, Dr. Watson."

     "I'm not much of a story-teller," said our visitor, nervously
     clasping and unclasping his great, strong hands. "You'll just ask me
     anything that I don't make clear. I'll begin at the time of my
     marriage last year; but I want to say first of all that, though I'm
     not a rich man, my people have been at Ridling Thorpe for a matter of
     five centuries, and there is no better known family in the County of
     Norfolk. Last year I came up to London for the Jubilee, and I stopped
     at a boarding-house in Russell Square, because Parker, the vicar of
     our parish, was staying in it. There was an American young lady
     there--Patrick was the name--Elsie Patrick. In some way we became
     friends, until before my month was up I was as much in love as a man
     could be. We were quietly married at a registry office, and we
     returned to Norfolk a wedded couple. You'll think it very mad, Mr.
     Holmes, that a man of a good old family should marry a wife in this
     fashion, knowing nothing of her past or of her people; but if you saw
     her and knew her it would help you to understand.

     "She was very straight about it, was Elsie. I can't say that she did
     not give me every chance of getting out of it if I wished to do so.
     'I have had some very disagreeable associations in my life,' said
     she; 'I wish to forget all about them. I would rather never allude to
     the past, for it is very painful to me. If you take me, Hilton, you
     will take a woman who has nothing that she need be personally ashamed
     of; but you will have to be content with my word for it, and to allow
     me to be silent as to all that passed up to the time when I became
     yours. If these conditions are too hard, then go back to Norfolk and
     leave me to the lonely life in which you found me.' It was only the
     day before our wedding that she said those very words to me. I told
     her that I was content to take her on her own terms, and I have been
     as good as my word.

     "Well, we have been married now for a year, and very happy we have
     been. But about a month ago, at the end of June, I saw for the first
     time signs of trouble. One day my wife received a letter from
     America. I saw the American stamp. She turned deadly white, read the
     letter, and threw it into the fire. She made no allusion to it
     afterwards, and I made none, for a promise is a promise; but she has
     never known an easy hour from that moment. There is always a look of
     fear upon her face--a look as if she were waiting and expecting. She
     would do better to trust me. She would find that I was her best
     friend. But until she speaks I can say nothing. Mind you, she is a
     truthful woman, Mr. Holmes, and whatever trouble there may have been
     in her past life it has been no fault of hers. I am only a simple
     Norfolk squire, but there is not a man in England who ranks his
     family honour more highly than I do. She knows it well, and she knew
     it well before she married me. She would never bring any stain upon
     it--of that I am sure.

     "Well, now I come to the queer part of my story. About a week ago--it
     was the Tuesday of last week--I found on one of the window-sills a
     number of absurd little dancing figures, like these upon the paper.
     They were scrawled with chalk. I thought that it was the stable-boy
     who had drawn them, but the lad swore he knew nothing about it.
     Anyhow, they had come there during the night. I had them washed out,
     and I only mentioned the matter to my wife afterwards. To my surprise
     she took it very seriously, and begged me if any more came to let her
     see them. None did come for a week, and then yesterday morning I
     found this paper lying on the sun-dial in the garden. I showed it to
     Elsie, and down she dropped in a dead faint. Since then she has
     looked like a woman in a dream, half dazed, and with terror always
     lurking in her eyes. It was then that I wrote and sent the paper to
     you, Mr. Holmes. It was not a thing that I could take to the police,
     for they would have laughed at me, but you will tell me what to do. I
     am not a rich man; but if there is any danger threatening my little
     woman I would spend my last copper to shield her."

     He was a fine creature, this man of the old English soil, simple,
     straight, and gentle, with his great, earnest blue eyes and broad,
     comely face. His love for his wife and his trust in her shone in his
     features. Holmes had listened to his story with the utmost attention,
     and now he sat for some time in silent thought.

     "Don't you think, Mr. Cubitt," said he, at last, "that your best plan
     would be to make a direct appeal to your wife, and to ask her to
     share her secret with you?"

     Hilton Cubitt shook his massive head.

     "A promise is a promise, Mr. Holmes. If Elsie wished to tell me she
     would. If not, it is not for me to force her confidence. But I am
     justified in taking my own line--and I will."

     "Then I will help you with all my heart. In the first place, have you
     heard of any strangers being seen in your neighbourhood?"

     "No."

     "I presume that it is a very quiet place. Any fresh face would cause
     comment?"

     "In the immediate neighbourhood, yes. But we have several small
     watering-places not very far away. And the farmers take in lodgers."

     "These hieroglyphics have evidently a meaning. If it is a purely
     arbitrary one it may be impossible for us to solve it. If, on the
     other hand, it is systematic, I have no doubt that we shall get to
     the bottom of it. But this particular sample is so short that I can
     do nothing, and the facts which you have brought me are so indefinite
     that we have no basis for an investigation. I would suggest that you
     return to Norfolk, that you keep a keen look-out, and that you take
     an exact copy of any fresh dancing men which may appear. It is a
     thousand pities that we have not a reproduction of those which were
     done in chalk upon the window-sill. Make a discreet inquiry also as
     to any strangers in the neighbourhood. When you have collected some
     fresh evidence come to me again. That is the best advice which I can
     give you, Mr. Hilton Cubitt. If there are any pressing fresh
     developments I shall be always ready to run down and see you in your
     Norfolk home."

     The interview left Sherlock Holmes very thoughtful, and several times
     in the next few days I saw him take his slip of paper from his
     note-book and look long and earnestly at the curious figures
     inscribed upon it. He made no allusion to the affair, however, until
     one afternoon a fortnight or so later. I was going out when he called
     me back.

     "You had better stay here, Watson."

     "Why?"

     "Because I had a wire from Hilton Cubitt this morning--you remember
     Hilton Cubitt, of the dancing men? He was to reach Liverpool Street
     at one-twenty. He may be here at any moment. I gather from his wire
     that there have been some new incidents of importance."

     We had not long to wait, for our Norfolk squire came straight from
     the station as fast as a hansom could bring him. He was looking
     worried and depressed, with tired eyes and a lined forehead.

     "It's getting on my nerves, this business, Mr. Holmes," said he, as
     he sank, like a wearied man, into an arm-chair. "It's bad enough to
     feel that you are surrounded by unseen, unknown folk, who have some
     kind of design upon you; but when, in addition to that, you know that
     it is just killing your wife by inches, then it becomes as much as
     flesh and blood can endure. She's wearing away under it--just wearing
     away before my eyes."

     "Has she said anything yet?"

     "No, Mr. Holmes, she has not. And yet there have been times when the
     poor girl has wanted to speak, and yet could not quite bring herself
     to take the plunge. I have tried to help her; but I dare say I did it
     clumsily, and scared her off from it. She has spoken about my old
     family, and our reputation in the county, and our pride in our
     unsullied honour, and I always felt it was leading to the point; but
     somehow it turned off before we got there."

     "But you have found out something for yourself?"

     "A good deal, Mr. Holmes. I have several fresh dancing men pictures
     for you to examine, and, what is more important, I have seen the
     fellow."

     "What, the man who draws them?"

     "Yes, I saw him at his work. But I will tell you everything in order.
     When I got back after my visit to you, the very first thing I saw
     next morning was a fresh crop of dancing men. They had been drawn in
     chalk upon the black wooden door of the tool-house, which stands
     beside the lawn in full view of the front windows. I took an exact
     copy, and here it is." He unfolded a paper and laid it upon the
     table. Here is a copy of the hieroglyphics:--

     [ Picture: Picture of a few dancing men ]

     "Excellent!" said Holmes. "Excellent! Pray continue."

     "When I had taken the copy I rubbed out the marks; but two mornings
     later a fresh inscription had appeared. I have a copy of it here":--

     [ Picture: Picture of some more dancing man figures ]

     Holmes rubbed his hands and chuckled with delight.

     "Our material is rapidly accumulating," said he.

     "Three days later a message was left scrawled upon paper, and placed
     under a pebble upon the sun-dial. Here it is. The characters are, as
     you see, exactly the same as the last one. After that I determined to
     lie in wait; so I got out my revolver and I sat up in my study, which
     overlooks the lawn and garden. About two in the morning I was seated
     by the window, all being dark save for the moonlight outside, when I
     heard steps behind me, and there was my wife in her dressing-gown.
     She implored me to come to bed. I told her frankly that I wished to
     see who it was who played such absurd tricks upon us. She answered
     that it was some senseless practical joke, and that I should not take
     any notice of it.

     "'If it really annoys you, Hilton, we might go and travel, you and I,
     and so avoid this nuisance.'

     "'What, be driven out of our own house by a practical joker?' said I.
     'Why, we should have the whole county laughing at us.'

     "'Well, come to bed,' said she, 'and we can discuss it in the
     morning.'

     "Suddenly, as she spoke, I saw her white face grow whiter yet in the
     moonlight, and her hand tightened upon my shoulder. Something was
     moving in the shadow of the tool-house. I saw a dark, creeping figure
     which crawled round the corner and squatted in front of the door.
     Seizing my pistol I was rushing out, when my wife threw her arms
     round me and held me with convulsive strength. I tried to throw her
     off, but she clung to me most desperately. At last I got clear, but
     by the time I had opened the door and reached the house the creature
     was gone. He had left a trace of his presence, however, for there on
     the door was the very same arrangement of dancing men which had
     already twice appeared, and which I have copied on that paper. There
     was no other sign of the fellow anywhere, though I ran all over the
     grounds. And yet the amazing thing is that he must have been there
     all the time, for when I examined the door again in the morning he
     had scrawled some more of his pictures under the line which I had
     already seen."

     "Have you that fresh drawing?"

     "Yes; it is very short, but I made a copy of it, and here it is."

     Again he produced a paper. The new dance was in this form:--

     [ Picture: Picture of five dancing men figures ]

     "Tell me," said Holmes--and I could see by his eyes that he was much
     excited--"was this a mere addition to the first, or did it appear to
     be entirely separate?"

     "It was on a different panel of the door."

     "Excellent! This is far the most important of all for our purpose. It
     fills me with hopes. Now, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, please continue your
     most interesting statement."

     "I have nothing more to say, Mr. Holmes, except that I was angry with
     my wife that night for having held me back when I might have caught
     the skulking rascal. She said that she feared that I might come to
     harm. For an instant it had crossed my mind that perhaps what she
     really feared was that he might come to harm, for I could not doubt
     that she knew who this man was and what he meant by these strange
     signals. But there is a tone in my wife's voice, Mr. Holmes, and a
     look in her eyes which forbid doubt, and I am sure that it was indeed
     my own safety that was in her mind. There's the whole case, and now I
     want your advice as to what I ought to do. My own inclination is to
     put half-a-dozen of my farm lads in the shrubbery, and when this
     fellow comes again to give him such a hiding that he will leave us in
     peace for the future."

     "I fear it is too deep a case for such simple remedies," said Holmes.
     "How long can you stay in London?"

     "I must go back to-day. I would not leave my wife alone all night for
     anything. She is very nervous and begged me to come back."

     "I dare say you are right. But if you could have stopped I might
     possibly have been able to return with you in a day or two. Meanwhile
     you will leave me these papers, and I think that it is very likely
     that I shall be able to pay you a visit shortly and to throw some
     light upon your case."

     Sherlock Holmes preserved his calm professional manner until our
     visitor had left us, although it was easy for me, who knew him so
     well, to see that he was profoundly excited. The moment that Hilton
     Cubitt's broad back had disappeared through the door my comrade
     rushed to the table, laid out all the slips of paper containing
     dancing men in front of him, and threw himself into an intricate and
     elaborate calculation. For two hours I watched him as he covered
     sheet after sheet of paper with figures and letters, so completely
     absorbed in his task that he had evidently forgotten my presence.
     Sometimes he was making progress and whistled and sang at his work;
     sometimes he was puzzled, and would sit for long spells with a
     furrowed brow and a vacant eye. Finally he sprang from his chair with
     a cry of satisfaction, and walked up and down the room rubbing his
     hands together. Then he wrote a long telegram upon a cable form. "If
     my answer to this is as I hope, you will have a very pretty case to
     add to your collection, Watson," said he. "I expect that we shall be
     able to go down to Norfolk to-morrow, and to take our friend some
     very definite news as to the secret of his annoyance."

     I confess that I was filled with curiosity, but I was aware that
     Holmes liked to make his disclosures at his own time and in his own
     way; so I waited until it should suit him to take me into his
     confidence.

     But there was a delay in that answering telegram, and two days of
     impatience followed, during which Holmes pricked up his ears at every
     ring of the bell. On the evening of the second there came a letter
     from Hilton Cubitt. All was quiet with him, save that a long
     inscription had appeared that morning upon the pedestal of the
     sun-dial. He inclosed a copy of it, which is here reproduced:--

     [ Picture: Picture of many dancing men figures ]

     Holmes bent over this grotesque frieze for some minutes, and then
     suddenly sprang to his feet with an exclamation of surprise and
     dismay. His face was haggard with anxiety.

     "We have let this affair go far enough," said he. "Is there a train
     to North Walsham to-night?"

     I turned up the time-table. The last had just gone.

     "Then we shall breakfast early and take the very first in the
     morning," said Holmes. "Our presence is most urgently needed. Ah!
     here is our expected cablegram. One moment, Mrs. Hudson; there may be
     an answer. No, that is quite as I expected. This message makes it
     even more essential that we should not lose an hour in letting Hilton
     Cubitt know how matters stand, for it is a singular and a dangerous
     web in which our simple Norfolk squire is entangled."

     So, indeed, it proved, and as I come to the dark conclusion of a
     story which had seemed to me to be only childish and bizarre I
     experience once again the dismay and horror with which I was filled.
     Would that I had some brighter ending to communicate to my readers,
     but these are the chronicles of fact, and I must follow to their dark
     crisis the strange chain of events which for some days made Ridling
     Thorpe Manor a household word through the length and breadth of
     England.

     We had hardly alighted at North Walsham, and mentioned the name of
     our destination, when the station-master hurried towards us. "I
     suppose that you are the detectives from London?" said he.

     A look of annoyance passed over Holmes's face.

     "What makes you think such a thing?"

     "Because Inspector Martin from Norwich has just passed through. But
     maybe you are the surgeons. She's not dead--or wasn't by last
     accounts. You may be in time to save her yet--though it be for the
     gallows."

     Holmes's brow was dark with anxiety.

     "We are going to Ridling Thorpe Manor," said he, "but we have heard
     nothing of what has passed there."

     "It's a terrible business," said the station-master. "They are shot,
     both Mr. Hilton Cubitt and his wife. She shot him and then
     herself--so the servants say. He's dead and her life is despaired of.
     Dear, dear, one of the oldest families in the County of Norfolk, and
     one of the most honoured."

     Without a word Holmes hurried to a carriage, and during the long
     seven miles' drive he never opened his mouth. Seldom have I seen him
     so utterly despondent. He had been uneasy during all our journey from
     town, and I had observed that he had turned over the morning papers
     with anxious attention; but now this sudden realization of his worst
     fears left him in a blank melancholy. He leaned back in his seat,
     lost in gloomy speculation. Yet there was much around to interest us,
     for we were passing through as singular a country-side as any in
     England, where a few scattered cottages represented the population of
     to-day, while on every hand enormous square-towered churches bristled
     up from the flat, green landscape and told of the glory and
     prosperity of old East Anglia. At last the violet rim of the German
     Ocean appeared over the green edge of the Norfolk coast, and the
     driver pointed with his whip to two old brick and timber gables which
     projected from a grove of trees. "That's Ridling Thorpe Manor," said
     he.

     As we drove up to the porticoed front door I observed in front of it,
     beside the tennis lawn, the black tool-house and the pedestalled
     sun-dial with which we had such strange associations. A dapper little
     man, with a quick, alert manner and a waxed moustache, had just
     descended from a high dog-cart. He introduced himself as Inspector
     Martin, of the Norfolk Constabulary, and he was considerably
     astonished when he heard the name of my companion.

     "Why, Mr. Holmes, the crime was only committed at three this morning.
     How could you hear of it in London and get to the spot as soon as I?"

     "I anticipated it. I came in the hope of preventing it."

     "Then you must have important evidence of which we are ignorant, for
     they were said to be a most united couple."

     "I have only the evidence of the dancing men," said Holmes. "I will
     explain the matter to you later. Meanwhile, since it is too late to
     prevent this tragedy, I am very anxious that I should use the
     knowledge which I possess in order to ensure that justice be done.
     Will you associate me in your investigation, or will you prefer that
     I should act independently?"

     "I should be proud to feel that we were acting together, Mr. Holmes,"
     said the inspector, earnestly.

     "In that case I should be glad to hear the evidence and to examine
     the premises without an instant of unnecessary delay."

     Inspector Martin had the good sense to allow my friend to do things
     in his own fashion, and contented himself with carefully noting the
     results. The local surgeon, an old, white-haired man, had just come
     down from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt's room, and he reported that her
     injuries were serious, but not necessarily fatal. The bullet had
     passed through the front of her brain, and it would probably be some
     time before she could regain consciousness. On the question of
     whether she had been shot or had shot herself he would not venture to
     express any decided opinion. Certainly the bullet had been discharged
     at very close quarters. There was only the one pistol found in the
     room, two barrels of which had been emptied. Mr. Hilton Cubitt had
     been shot through the heart. It was equally conceivable that he had
     shot her and then himself, or that she had been the criminal, for the
     revolver lay upon the floor midway between them.

     "Has he been moved?" asked Holmes.

     "We have moved nothing except the lady. We could not leave her lying
     wounded upon the floor."

     "How long have you been here, doctor?"

     "Since four o'clock."

     "Anyone else?"

     "Yes, the constable here."

     "And you have touched nothing?"

     "Nothing."

     "You have acted with great discretion. Who sent for you?"

     "The housemaid, Saunders."

     "Was it she who gave the alarm?"

     "She and Mrs. King, the cook."

     "Where are they now?"

     "In the kitchen, I believe."

     "Then I think we had better hear their story at once."

     The old hall, oak-panelled and high-windowed, had been turned into a
     court of investigation. Holmes sat in a great, old-fashioned chair,
     his inexorable eyes gleaming out of his haggard face. I could read in
     them a set purpose to devote his life to this quest until the client
     whom he had failed to save should at last be avenged. The trim
     Inspector Martin, the old, grey-headed country doctor, myself, and a
     stolid village policeman made up the rest of that strange company.

     The two women told their story clearly enough. They had been aroused
     from their sleep by the sound of an explosion, which had been
     followed a minute later by a second one. They slept in adjoining
     rooms, and Mrs. King had rushed in to Saunders. Together they had
     descended the stairs. The door of the study was open and a candle was
     burning upon the table. Their master lay upon his face in the centre
     of the room. He was quite dead. Near the window his wife was
     crouching, her head leaning against the wall. She was horribly
     wounded, and the side of her face was red with blood. She breathed
     heavily, but was incapable of saying anything. The passage, as well
     as the room, was full of smoke and the smell of powder. The window
     was certainly shut and fastened upon the inside. Both women were
     positive upon the point. They had at once sent for the doctor and for
     the constable. Then, with the aid of the groom and the stable-boy,
     they had conveyed their injured mistress to her room. Both she and
     her husband had occupied the bed. She was clad in her dress--he in
     his dressing-gown, over his night clothes. Nothing had been moved in
     the study. So far as they knew there had never been any quarrel
     between husband and wife. They had always looked upon them as a very
     united couple.

     These were the main points of the servants' evidence. In answer to
     Inspector Martin they were clear that every door was fastened upon
     the inside, and that no one could have escaped from the house. In
     answer to Holmes they both remembered that they were conscious of the
     smell of powder from the moment that they ran out of their rooms upon
     the top floor. "I commend that fact very carefully to your
     attention," said Holmes to his professional colleague. "And now I
     think that we are in a position to undertake a thorough examination
     of the room."

     The study proved to be a small chamber, lined on three sides with
     books, and with a writing-table facing an ordinary window, which
     looked out upon the garden. Our first attention was given to the body
     of the unfortunate squire, whose huge frame lay stretched across the
     room. His disordered dress showed that he had been hastily aroused
     from sleep. The bullet had been fired at him from the front, and had
     remained in his body after penetrating the heart. His death had
     certainly been instantaneous and painless. There was no
     powder-marking either upon his dressing-gown or on his hands.
     According to the country surgeon the lady had stains upon her face,
     but none upon her hand.

     "The absence of the latter means nothing, though its presence may
     mean everything," said Holmes. "Unless the powder from a
     badly-fitting cartridge happens to spurt backwards, one may fire many
     shots without leaving a sign. I would suggest that Mr. Cubitt's body
     may now be removed. I suppose, doctor, you have not recovered the
     bullet which wounded the lady?"

     "A serious operation will be necessary before that can be done. But
     there are still four cartridges in the revolver. Two have been fired
     and two wounds inflicted, so that each bullet can be accounted for."

     "So it would seem," said Holmes. "Perhaps you can account also for
     the bullet which has so obviously struck the edge of the window?"

     He had turned suddenly, and his long, thin finger was pointing to a
     hole which had been drilled right through the lower window-sash about
     an inch above the bottom.

     "By George!" cried the inspector. "How ever did you see that?"

     "Because I looked for it."

     "Wonderful!" said the country doctor. "You are certainly right, sir.
     Then a third shot has been fired, and therefore a third person must
     have been present. But who could that have been and how could he have
     got away?"

     "That is the problem which we are now about to solve," said Sherlock
     Holmes. "You remember, Inspector Martin, when the servants said that
     on leaving their room they were at once conscious of a smell of
     powder I remarked that the point was an extremely important one?"

     "Yes, sir; but I confess I did not quite follow you."

     "It suggested that at the time of the firing the window as well as
     the door of the room had been open. Otherwise the fumes of powder
     could not have been blown so rapidly through the house. A draught in
     the room was necessary for that. Both door and window were only open
     for a very short time, however."

     "How do you prove that?"

     "Because the candle has not guttered."

     "Capital!" cried the inspector. "Capital!"

     "Feeling sure that the window had been open at the time of the
     tragedy I conceived that there might have been a third person in the
     affair, who stood outside this opening and fired through it. Any shot
     directed at this person might hit the sash. I looked, and there, sure
     enough, was the bullet mark!"

     "But how came the window to be shut and fastened?"

     "The woman's first instinct would be to shut and fasten the window.
     But, halloa! what is this?"

     It was a lady's hand-bag which stood upon the study table--a trim
     little hand-bag of crocodile-skin and silver. Holmes opened it and
     turned the contents out. There were twenty fifty-pound notes of the
     Bank of England, held together by an india-rubber band--nothing else.

     "This must be preserved, for it will figure in the trial," said
     Holmes, as he handed the bag with its contents to the inspector. "It
     is now necessary that we should try to throw some light upon this
     third bullet, which has clearly, from the splintering of the wood,
     been fired from inside the room. I should like to see Mrs. King, the
     cook, again. You said, Mrs. King, that you were awakened by a loud
     explosion. When you said that, did you mean that it seemed to you to
     be louder than the second one?"

     "Well, sir, it wakened me from my sleep, and so it is hard to judge.
     But it did seem very loud."

     "You don't think that it might have been two shots fired almost at
     the same instant?"

     "I am sure I couldn't say, sir."

     "I believe that it was undoubtedly so. I rather think, Inspector
     Martin, that we have now exhausted all that this room can teach us.
     If you will kindly step round with me, we shall see what fresh
     evidence the garden has to offer."

     A flower-bed extended up to the study window, and we all broke into
     an exclamation as we approached it. The flowers were trampled down,
     and the soft soil was imprinted all over with footmarks. Large,
     masculine feet they were, with peculiarly long, sharp toes. Holmes
     hunted about among the grass and leaves like a retriever after a
     wounded bird. Then, with a cry of satisfaction, he bent forward and
     picked up a little brazen cylinder.

     "I thought so," said he; "the revolver had an ejector, and here is
     the third cartridge. I really think, Inspector Martin, that our case
     is almost complete."

     The country inspector's face had shown his intense amazement at the
     rapid and masterful progress of Holmes's investigation. At first he
     had shown some disposition to assert his own position; but now he was
     overcome with admiration and ready to follow without question
     wherever Holmes led.

     "Whom do you suspect?" he asked.

     "I'll go into that later. There are several points in this problem
     which I have not been able to explain to you yet. Now that I have got
     so far I had best proceed on my own lines, and then clear the whole
     matter up once and for all."

     "Just as you wish, Mr. Holmes, so long as we get our man."

     "I have no desire to make mysteries, but it is impossible at the
     moment of action to enter into long and complex explanations. I have
     the threads of this affair all in my hand. Even if this lady should
     never recover consciousness we can still reconstruct the events of
     last night and ensure that justice be done. First of all I wish to
     know whether there is any inn in this neighbourhood known as
     'Elrige's'?"

     The servants were cross-questioned, but none of them had heard of
     such a place. The stable-boy threw a light upon the matter by
     remembering that a farmer of that name lived some miles off in the
     direction of East Ruston.

     "Is it a lonely farm?"

     "Very lonely, sir."

     "Perhaps they have not heard yet of all that happened here during the
     night?"

     "Maybe not, sir."

     Holmes thought for a little and then a curious smile played over his
     face.

     "Saddle a horse, my lad," said he. "I shall wish you to take a note
     to Elrige's Farm."

     He took from his pocket the various slips of the dancing men. With
     these in front of him he worked for some time at the study-table.
     Finally he handed a note to the boy, with directions to put it into
     the hands of the person to whom it was addressed, and especially to
     answer no questions of any sort which might be put to him. I saw the
     outside of the note, addressed in straggling, irregular characters,
     very unlike Holmes's usual precise hand. It was consigned to Mr. Abe
     Slaney, Elrige's Farm, East Ruston, Norfolk.

     "I think, inspector," Holmes remarked, "that you would do well to
     telegraph for an escort, as, if my calculations prove to be correct,
     you may have a particularly dangerous prisoner to convey to the
     county jail. The boy who takes this note could no doubt forward your
     telegram. If there is an afternoon train to town, Watson, I think we
     should do well to take it, as I have a chemical analysis of some
     interest to finish, and this investigation draws rapidly to a close."

     When the youth had been dispatched with the note, Sherlock Holmes
     gave his instructions to the servants. If any visitor were to call
     asking for Mrs. Hilton Cubitt no information should be given as to
     her condition, but he was to be shown at once into the drawing-room.
     He impressed these points upon them with the utmost earnestness.
     Finally he led the way into the drawing-room with the remark that the
     business was now out of our hands, and that we must while away the
     time as best we might until we could see what was in store for us.
     The doctor had departed to his patients, and only the inspector and
     myself remained.

     "I think that I can help you to pass an hour in an interesting and
     profitable manner," said Holmes, drawing his chair up to the table
     and spreading out in front of him the various papers upon which were
     recorded the antics of the dancing men. "As to you, friend Watson, I
     owe you every atonement for having allowed your natural curiosity to
     remain so long unsatisfied. To you, inspector, the whole incident may
     appeal as a remarkable professional study. I must tell you first of
     all the interesting circumstances connected with the previous
     consultations which Mr. Hilton Cubitt has had with me in Baker
     Street." He then shortly recapitulated the facts which have already
     been recorded. "I have here in front of me these singular
     productions, at which one might smile had they not proved themselves
     to be the fore-runners of so terrible a tragedy. I am fairly familiar
     with all forms of secret writings, and am myself the author of a
     trifling monograph upon the subject, in which I analyze one hundred
     and sixty separate ciphers; but I confess that this is entirely new
     to me. The object of those who invented the system has apparently
     been to conceal that these characters convey a message, and to give
     the idea that they are the mere random sketches of children.

     "Having once recognised, however, that the symbols stood for letters,
     and having applied the rules which guide us in all forms of secret
     writings, the solution was easy enough. The first message submitted
     to me was so short that it was impossible for me to do more than to
     say with some confidence that the symbol

     [ Picture: Picture of a single dancing man ]

     stood for E. As you are aware, E is the most common letter in the
     English alphabet, and it predominates to so marked an extent that
     even in a short sentence one would expect to find it most often. Out
     of fifteen symbols in the first message four were the same, so it was
     reasonable to set this down as E. It is true that in some cases the
     figure was bearing a flag and in some cases not, but it was probable
     from the way in which the flags were distributed that they were used
     to break the sentence up into words. I accepted this as a hypothesis,
     and noted that E was represented by

     [ Picture: Picture of a single dancing man ]

     "But now came the real difficulty of the inquiry. The order of the
     English letters after E is by no means well marked, and any
     preponderance which may be shown in an average of a printed sheet may
     be reversed in a single short sentence. Speaking roughly, T, A, O, I,
     N, S, H, R, D, and L are the numerical order in which letters occur;
     but T, A, O, and I are very nearly abreast of each other, and it
     would be an endless task to try each combination until a meaning was
     arrived at. I, therefore, waited for fresh material. In my second
     interview with Mr. Hilton Cubitt he was able to give me two other
     short sentences and one message, which appeared--since there was no
     flag--to be a single word. Here are the symbols. Now, in the single
     word I have already got the two E's coming second and fourth in a
     word of five letters. It might be 'sever,' or 'lever,' or 'never.'
     There can be no question that the latter as a reply to an appeal is
     far the most probable, and the circumstances pointed to its being a
     reply written by the lady. Accepting it as correct, we are now able
     to say that the symbols

     [ Picture: Picture of three dancing men ]

     stand respectively for N, V, and R.

     "Even now I was in considerable difficulty, but a happy thought put
     me in possession of several other letters. It occurred to me that if
     these appeals came, as I expected, from someone who had been intimate
     with the lady in her early life, a combination which contained two
     E's with three letters between might very well stand for the name
     'ELSIE.' On examination I found that such a combination formed the
     termination of the message which was three times repeated. It was
     certainly some appeal to 'Elsie.' In this way I had got my L, S, and
     I. But what appeal could it be? There were only four letters in the
     word which preceded 'Elsie,' and it ended in E. Surely the word must
     be 'COME.' I tried all other four letters ending in E, but could find
     none to fit the case. So now I was in possession of C, O, and M, and
     I was in a position to attack the first message once more, dividing
     it into words and putting dots for each symbol which was still
     unknown. So treated it worked out in this fashion:

                              .M  .ERE  ..E  SL.NE.

     "Now the first letter can only be A, which is a most useful
     discovery, since it occurs no fewer than three times in this short
     sentence, and the H is also apparent in the second word. Now it
     becomes:--

                              AM  HERE  A.E  SLANE.

     Or, filling in the obvious vacancies in the name:--

                             AM  HERE  ABE  SLANEY.

     I had so many letters now that I could proceed with considerable
     confidence to the second message, which worked out in this fashion:--

                                   A. ELRI.ES.

     Here I could only make sense by putting T and G for the missing
     letters, and supposing that the name was that of some house or inn at
     which the writer was staying."

     Inspector Martin and I had listened with the utmost interest to the
     full and clear account of how my friend had produced results which
     had led to so complete a command over our difficulties.

     "What did you do then, sir?" asked the inspector.

     "I had every reason to suppose that this Abe Slaney was an American,
     since Abe is an American contraction, and since a letter from America
     had been the starting-point of all the trouble. I had also every
     cause to think that there was some criminal secret in the matter. The
     lady's allusions to her past and her refusal to take her husband into
     her confidence both pointed in that direction. I therefore cabled to
     my friend, Wilson Hargreave, of the New York Police Bureau, who has
     more than once made use of my knowledge of London crime. I asked him
     whether the name of Abe Slaney was known to him. Here is his reply:
     'The most dangerous crook in Chicago.' On the very evening upon which
     I had his answer Hilton Cubitt sent me the last message from Slaney.
     Working with known letters it took this form:--

                       ELSIE  .RE.ARE  TO  MEET  THY  GO.

     The addition of a P and a D completed a message which showed me that
     the rascal was proceeding from persuasion to threats, and my
     knowledge of the crooks of Chicago prepared me to find that he might
     very rapidly put his words into action. I at once came to Norfolk
     with my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, but, unhappily, only in
     time to find that the worst had already occurred."

     "It is a privilege to be associated with you in the handling of a
     case," said the inspector, warmly. "You will excuse me, however, if I
     speak frankly to you. You are only answerable to yourself, but I have
     to answer to my superiors. If this Abe Slaney, living at Elrige's, is
     indeed the murderer, and if he has made his escape while I am seated
     here, I should certainly get into serious trouble."

     "You need not be uneasy. He will not try to escape."

     "How do you know?"

     "To fly would be a confession of guilt."

     "Then let us go to arrest him."

     "I expect him here every instant."

     "But why should he come?"

     "Because I have written and asked him."

     "But this is incredible, Mr. Holmes! Why should he come because you
     have asked him? Would not such a request rather rouse his suspicions
     and cause him to fly?"

     "I think I have known how to frame the letter," said Sherlock Holmes.
     "In fact, if I am not very much mistaken, here is the gentleman
     himself coming up the drive."

     A man was striding up the path which led to the door. He was a tall,
     handsome, swarthy fellow, clad in a suit of grey flannel, with a
     Panama hat, a bristling black beard, and a great, aggressive hooked
     nose, and flourishing a cane as he walked. He swaggered up the path
     as if the place belonged to him, and we heard his loud, confident
     peal at the bell.

     "I think, gentlemen," said Holmes, quietly, "that we had best take up
     our position behind the door. Every precaution is necessary when
     dealing with such a fellow. You will need your handcuffs, inspector.
     You can leave the talking to me."

     We waited in silence for a minute--one of those minutes which one can
     never forget. Then the door opened and the man stepped in. In an
     instant Holmes clapped a pistol to his head and Martin slipped the
     handcuffs over his wrists. It was all done so swiftly and deftly that
     the fellow was helpless before he knew that he was attacked. He
     glared from one to the other of us with a pair of blazing black eyes.
     Then he burst into a bitter laugh.

     "Well, gentlemen, you have the drop on me this time. I seem to have
     knocked up against something hard. But I came here in answer to a
     letter from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt. Don't tell me that she is in this?
     Don't tell me that she helped to set a trap for me?"

     "Mrs. Hilton Cubitt was seriously injured and is at death's door."

     The man gave a hoarse cry of grief which rang through the house.

     "You're crazy!" he cried, fiercely. "It was he that was hurt, not
     she. Who would have hurt little Elsie? I may have threatened her, God
     forgive me, but I would not have touched a hair of her pretty head.
     Take it back--you! Say that she is not hurt!"

     "She was found badly wounded by the side of her dead husband."

     He sank with a deep groan on to the settee and buried his face in his
     manacled hands. For five minutes he was silent. Then he raised his
     face once more, and spoke with the cold composure of despair.

     "I have nothing to hide from you, gentlemen," said he. "If I shot the
     man he had his shot at me, and there's no murder in that. But if you
     think I could have hurt that woman, then you don't know either me or
     her. I tell you there was never a man in this world loved a woman
     more than I loved her. I had a right to her. She was pledged to me
     years ago. Who was this Englishman that he should come between us? I
     tell you that I had the first right to her, and that I was only
     claiming my own."

     "She broke away from your influence when she found the man that you
     are," said Holmes, sternly. "She fled from America to avoid you, and
     she married an honourable gentleman in England. You dogged her and
     followed her and made her life a misery to her in order to induce her
     to abandon the husband whom she loved and respected in order to fly
     with you, whom she feared and hated. You have ended by bringing about
     the death of a noble man and driving his wife to suicide. That is
     your record in this business, Mr. Abe Slaney, and you will answer for
     it to the law."

     "If Elsie dies I care nothing what becomes of me," said the American.
     He opened one of his hands and looked at a note crumpled up in his
     palm. "See here, mister," he cried, with a gleam of suspicion in his
     eyes, "you're not trying to scare me over this, are you? If the lady
     is hurt as bad as you say, who was it that wrote this note?" He
     tossed it forwards on to the table.

     "I wrote it to bring you here."

     "You wrote it? There was no one on earth outside the Joint who knew
     the secret of the dancing men. How came you to write it?"

     "What one man can invent another can discover," said Holmes. "There
     is a cab coming to convey you to Norwich, Mr. Slaney. But, meanwhile,
     you have time to make some small reparation for the injury you have
     wrought. Are you aware that Mrs. Hilton Cubitt has herself lain under
     grave suspicion of the murder of her husband, and that it was only my
     presence here and the knowledge which I happened to possess which has
     saved her from the accusation? The least that you owe her is to make
     it clear to the whole world that she was in no way, directly or
     indirectly, responsible for his tragic end."

     "I ask nothing better," said the American. "I guess the very best
     case I can make for myself is the absolute naked truth."

     "It is my duty to warn you that it will be used against you," cried
     the inspector, with the magnificent fair-play of the British criminal
     law.

     Slaney shrugged his shoulders.

     "I'll chance that," said he. "First of all, I want you gentlemen to
     understand that I have known this lady since she was a child. There
     were seven of us in a gang in Chicago, and Elsie's father was the
     boss of the Joint. He was a clever man, was old Patrick. It was he
     who invented that writing, which would pass as a child's scrawl
     unless you just happened to have the key to it. Well, Elsie learned
     some of our ways; but she couldn't stand the business, and she had a
     bit of honest money of her own, so she gave us all the slip and got
     away to London. She had been engaged to me, and she would have
     married me, I believe, if I had taken over another profession; but
     she would have nothing to do with anything on the cross. It was only
     after her marriage to this Englishman that I was able to find out
     where she was. I wrote to her, but got no answer. After that I came
     over, and, as letters were no use, I put my messages where she could
     read them.

     "Well, I have been here a month now. I lived in that farm, where I
     had a room down below, and could get in and out every night, and no
     one the wiser. I tried all I could to coax Elsie away. I knew that
     she read the messages, for once she wrote an answer under one of
     them. Then my temper got the better of me, and I began to threaten
     her. She sent me a letter then, imploring me to go away and saying
     that it would break her heart if any scandal should come upon her
     husband. She said that she would come down when her husband was
     asleep at three in the morning, and speak with me through the end
     window, if I would go away afterwards and leave her in peace. She
     came down and brought money with her, trying to bribe me to go. This
     made me mad, and I caught her arm and tried to pull her through the
     window. At that moment in rushed the husband with his revolver in his
     hand. Elsie had sunk down upon the floor, and we were face to face. I
     was heeled also, and I held up my gun to scare him off and let me get
     away. He fired and missed me. I pulled off almost at the same
     instant, and down he dropped. I made away across the garden, and as I
     went I heard the window shut behind me. That's God's truth,
     gentlemen, every word of it, and I heard no more about it until that
     lad came riding up with a note which made me walk in here, like a
     jay, and give myself into your hands."

     A cab had driven up whilst the American had been talking. Two
     uniformed policemen sat inside. Inspector Martin rose and touched his
     prisoner on the shoulder.

     "It is time for us to go."

     "Can I see her first?"

     "No, she is not conscious. Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I only hope that if
     ever again I have an important case I shall have the good fortune to
     have you by my side."

     We stood at the window and watched the cab drive away. As I turned
     back my eye caught the pellet of paper which the prisoner had tossed
     upon the table. It was the note with which Holmes had decoyed him.

     "See if you can read it, Watson," said he, with a smile.

     It contained no word, but this little line of dancing men:--

     [ Picture: Picture of various dancing men ]

     "If you use the code which I have explained," said Holmes, "you will
     find that it simply means 'Come here at once.' I was convinced that
     it was an invitation which he would not refuse, since he could never
     imagine that it could come from anyone but the lady. And so, my dear
     Watson, we have ended by turning the dancing men to good when they
     have so often been the agents of evil, and I think that I have
     fulfilled my promise of giving you something unusual for your
     note-book. Three-forty is our train, and I fancy we should be back in
     Baker Street for dinner."

     Only one word of epilogue. The American, Abe Slaney, was condemned to
     death at the winter assizes at Norwich; but his penalty was changed
     to penal servitude in consideration of mitigating circumstances, and
     the certainty that Hilton Cubitt had fired the first shot. Of Mrs.
     Hilton Cubitt I only know that I have heard she recovered entirely,
     and that she still remains a widow, devoting her whole life to the
     care of the poor and to the administration of her husband's estate.









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     1915 edition of "The Return of Sherlock Holmes" by Smith, Elder & Co.
     of London.

     This text comes from the collection's version 3.1.