In a quarter of an hour or so we were back at the physician’shouse. He came running out to meet us with a face of horror.
“Oh, such a business!” he cried, with his hands to his temples.
“What then?”
“Blessington has committed suicide!”
Holmes whistled.
“Yes, he hanged himself during the night.”
We had entered, and the doctor had preceded us into what wasevidently his waiting-room.
“I really hardly know what I am doing,” he cried. “The policeare already upstairs. It has shaken me most dreadfully.”
“When did you find it out?”
“He has a cup of tea taken in to him early every morning. Whenthe maid entered, about seven, there the unfortunate fellow washanging in the middle of the room. He had tied his cord to thehook on which the heavy lamp used to hang, and he had jumpedoff from the top of the very box that he showed us yesterday.”
Holmes stood for a moment in deep thought.
“With your permission,” said he at last, “I should like to goupstairs and look into the matter.”
We both ascended, followed by the doctor.
It was a dreadful sight which met us as we entered the bedroomdoor. I have spoken of the impression of flabbiness which thisman Blessington conveyed. As he dangled from the hook it wasexaggerated and intensified until he was scarce human in hisappearance. The neck was drawn out like a plucked chicken’s,making the rest of him seem the more obese and unnatural by thecontrast. He was clad only in his long night-dress, and his swollenankles and ungainly feet protruded starkly from beneath it. Besidehim stood a smart-looking police-inspector, who was taking notesin a pocket-book.
“Ah, Mr. Holmes,” said he, heartily, as my friend entered, “I amdelighted to see you.”
“Good-morning, Lanner,” answered Holmes; “you won’t thinkme an intruder, I am sure. Have you heard of the events which ledup to this affair?”
“Yes, I heard something of them.”
“Have you formed any opinion?”
“As far as I can see, the man has been driven out of his senses byfright. The bed has been well slept in, you see. There’s his impression788 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
deep enough. It’s about five in the morning, you know, that suicidesare most common. That would be about his time for hanginghimself. It seems to have been a very deliberate affair.”
“I should say that he has been dead about three hours, judgingby the rigidity of the muscles,” said I.
“Noticed anything peculiar about the room?” asked Holmes.
“Found a screw-driver and some screws on the wash-hand stand.
Seems to have smoked heavily during the night, too. Here are fourcigar-ends that I picked out of the fireplace.”
“Hum!” said Holmes, “have you got his cigar-holder?”
“No, I have seen none.”
“His cigar-case, then?”
“Yes, it was in his coat-pocket.”
Holmes opened it and smelled the single cigar which it contained.
“Oh, this is an Havana, and these others are cigars of thepeculiar sort which are imported by the Dutch from their EastIndian colonies. They are usually wrapped in straw, you know, andare thinner for their length than any other brand.” He picked upthe four ends and examined them with his pocket-lens.
“Two of these have been smoked from a holder and twowithout,” said he. “Two have been cut by a not very sharp knife,and two have had the ends bitten off by a set of excellent teeth.
This is no suicide, Mr. Lanner. It is a very deeply planned andcold-blooded murder.”
“Impossible!” cried the inspector.
“And why?”
“Why should any one murder a man in so clumsy a fashion as byhanging him?”
“That is what we have to find out.”
“How could they get in?”
“Through the front door.”
“It was barred in the morning.”
“Then it was barred after them.”
“How do you know?”
“I saw their traces. Excuse me a moment, and I may be able togive you some further information about it.”
He went over to the door, and turning the lock he examinedin his methodical way. Then he took out the key, which was onthe inside, and inspected that also. The bed, the carpet, the chairsthe mantelpiece, the dead body, and the rope were each in turnexamined, until at last he professed himself satisfied, and with myaid and that of the inspector cut down the wretched object andlaid it reverently under a sheet.
“How about this rope?” he asked.
“It is cut off this,” said Dr. Trevelyan, drawing a large coil fromMemoirs of Sherlock Holmes 789
under the bed. “He was morbidly nervous of fire, and always keptthis beside him, so that he might escape by the window in case thestairs were burning.”
“That must have saved them trouble,” said Holmes, thoughtfully.
“Yes, the actual facts are very plain, and I shall be surprised if bythe afternoon I cannot give you the reasons for them as well. Iwill take this photograph of Blessington, which I see upon themantelpiece, as it may help me in my inquiries.”
“But you have told us nothing!” cried the doctor.
“Oh, there can be no doubt as to the sequence of events,” saidHolmes. “There were three of them in it: the young man, theold man, and a third, to whose identity I have no clue. The firsttwo, I need hardly remark, are the same who masqueraded as theRussian count and his son, so we can give a very full deion ofthem. They were admitted by a confederate inside the house. If Imight offer you a word of advice, Inspector, it would be to arrestthe page, who, as I understand, has only recently come into yourservice, Doctor.”
“The young imp cannot be found,” said Dr. Trevelyan; “the maidand the cook have just been searching for him.”
Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
“He has played a not unimportant part in this drama,” saidhe. “The three men having ascended the stairs, which they didon tiptoe, the elder man first, the younger man second, and theunknown man in the rear——”
“My dear Holmes!” I ejaculated.
