“I think that this is all we will need,” said Holmes. “Now, ifyou please, we will get off on what I hope is the last stage of ourjourney.”
The sun was setting and turning the rolling Hampshire moorinto a wonderful autumnal panorama. The sergeant, with manycritical and incredulous glances, which showed his deep doubtsof the sanity of my companion, lurched along beside us. As weapproached the scene of the crime I could see that my friendunder all his habitual coolness was in truth deeply agitated.
“Yes,” he said in answer to my remark, “you have seen me missmy mark before, Watson. I have an instinct for such things, andyet it has sometimes played me false. It seemed a certainty when1344 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
first it flashed across my mind in the cell at Winchester, butone drawback of an active mind is that one can always conceivealternative explanations which would make our scent a false one.
And yet—and yet—Well, Watson, we can but try.”
As he walked he had firmly tied one end of the string to thehandle of the revolver. We had now reached the scene of thetragedy. With great care he marked out under the guidance of thepoliceman the exact spot where the body had been stretched.
He then hunted among the heather and the ferns until he foundconsiderable stone. This he secured to the other end of his lineof string, and he hung it over the parapet of the bridge so thatswung clear above the water. He then stood on the fatal spot,some distance from the edge of the bridge, with my revolver inhis hand, the string being taut between the weapon and the heavystone on the farther side.
“Now for it!” he cried.
At the words he raised the pistol to his head, and then let go hisgrip. In an instant it had been whisked away by the weight of thestone, had struck with a sharp crack against the parapet, and hadvanished over the side into the water. It had hardly gone beforeHolmes was kneeling beside the stonework, and a joyous cryshowed that he had found what he expected.
“Was there ever a more exact demonstration?” he cried. “See,Watson, your revolver has solved the problem!” As he spoke hepointed to a second chip of the exact size and shape of the firstwhich had appeared on the under edge of the stone balustrade.
“We’ll stay at the inn to-night,” he continued as he rose andfaced the astonished sergeant. “You will, of course, get a grapplinghookand you will easily restore my friend’s revolver. You willalso find beside it the revolver, string and weight with which thisvindictive woman attempted to disguise her own crime and tofasten a charge of murder upon an innocent victim. You can letMr. Gibson know that I will see him in the morning, when stepscan be taken for Miss Dunbar’s vindication.”
Late that evening, as we sat together smoking our pipes in thevillage inn, Holmes gave me a brief review of what had passed.
“I fear, Watson,” said he, “that you will not improve anyreputation which I may have acquired by adding the case of theThor Bridge mystery to your annals. I have been sluggish in mindand wanting in that mixture of imagination and reality which isthe basis of my art. I confess that the chip in the stonework wassufficient clue to suggest the true solution, and that I blamemyself for not having attained it sooner.
“It must be admitted that the workings of this unhappy woman’smind were deep and subtle, so that it was no very simple matterThe Case Book of Sherlock Holmes 1345. to unravel her plot. I do not think that in our adventures we haveever come across a stranger example of what perverted love canbring about. Whether Miss Dunbar was her rival in a physical orin a merely mental sense seems to have been equally unforgivablein her eyes. No doubt she blamed this innocent lady for all thoseharsh dealings and unkind words with which her husband triedto repel her too demonstrative affection. Her first resolution wasto end her own life. Her second was to do it in such a way as toinvolve her victim in a fate which was worse far than any suddendeath could be.
“We can follow the various steps quite clearly, and they show aremarkable subtlety of mind. A note was extracted very cleverlyfrom Miss Dunbar which would make it appear that she hadchosen the scene of the crime. In her anxiety that it should bediscovered she somewhat overdid it by holding it in her hand tothe last. This alone should have excited my suspicions earlier thanit did.
“Then she took one of her husband’s revolvers—there was, asyou saw, an arsenal in the house—and kept it for her own use. Asimilar one she concealed that morning in Miss Dunbar’s wardrobeafter discharging one barrel, which she could easily do in thewoods without attracting attention. She then went down to thebridge where she had contrived this exceedingly ingenious methodfor getting rid of her weapon. When Miss Dunbar appeared sheused her last breath in pouring out her hatred, and then, when shewas out of hearing, carried out her terrible purpose. Every link isnow in its place and the chain is complete. The papers may askwhy the mere was not dragged in the first instance, but it is easy tobe wise after the event, and in any case the expanse of a reed-filledlake is no easy matter to drag unless you have a clear perception ofwhat you are looking for and where. Well, Watson, we have helpeda remarkable woman, and also a formidable man. Should they inthe future join their forces, as seems not unlikely, the financialworld may find that Mr. Neil Gibson has learned something inthat schoolroom of sorrow where our earthly lessons are taught.”
The Adventure of the Creeping Man
Mr. Sherlock Holmes was always of opinion that I shouldpublish the singular facts connected with Professor Presbury, ifonly to dispel once for all the ugly rumours which some twentyyears ago agitated the university and were echoed in the learnedsocieties of London. There were, however, certain obstacles in theway, and the true history of this curious case remained entombed1346 The Complete Sherlock Holme.
