“Very simply. When those packets were sealed up, Jonas Oldacregot McFarlane to secure one of the seals by putting his thumbupon the soft wax. It would be done so quickly and so naturally,that I daresay the young man himself has no recollection of it.
Very likely it just so happened, and Oldacre had himself no notionof the use he would put it to. Brooding over the case in that den ofhis, it suddenly struck him what absolutely damning evidence hecould make against McFarlane by using that thumb-mark. It wasthe simplest thing in the world for him to take a wax impressionfrom the seal, to moisten it in as much blood as he could get froma pin-prick, and to put the mark upon the wall during the night,either with his own hand or with that of his housekeeper. If youexamine among those documents which he took with him intohis retreat, I will lay you a wager that you find the seal with thethumb-mark upon it.”
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“Wonderful!” said Lestrade. “Wonderful! It’s all as clear ascrystal, as you put it. But what is the object of this deep deception,Mr. Holmes?”
It was amusing to me to see how the detective’s overbearingmanner had changed suddenly to that of a child asking questionsof its teacher.
“Well, I don’t think that is very hard to explain. A very deep,malicious, vindictive person is the gentleman who is now waitingus downstairs. You know that he was once refused by McFarlane’smother? You don’t! I told you that you should go to Blackheathfirst and Norwood afterwards. Well, this injury, as he wouldconsider it, has rankled in his wicked, scheming brain, and allhis life he has longed for vengeance, but never seen his chance.
During the last year or two, things have gone against him—secretspeculation, I think—and he finds himself in a bad way. Hedetermines to swindle his creditors, and for this purpose he payslarge checks to a certain Mr. Cornelius, who is, I imagine, himselfunder another name. I have not traced these checks yet, but Ihave no doubt that they were banked under that name at someprovincial town where Oldacre from time to time led a doubleexistence. He intended to change his name altogether, draw thismoney, and vanish, starting life again elsewhere.”
“Well, that’s likely enough.”
“It would strike him that in disappearing he might throw allpursuit off his track, and at the same time have an ample andcrushing revenge upon his old sweetheart, if he could give theimpression that he had been murdered by her only child. It wasmasterpiece of villainy, and he carried it out like a master. Theidea of the will, which would give an obvious motive for the crime,the secret visit unknown to his own parents, the retention of thestick, the blood, and the animal remains and buttons in the woodpile,all were admirable. It was a net from which it seemed to me,few hours ago, that there was no possible escape. But he had notthat supreme gift of the artist, the knowledge of when to stop. Hewished to improve that which was already perfect—to draw therope tighter yet round the neck of his unfortunate victim—and sohe ruined all. Let us descend, Lestrade. There are just one or twoquestions that I would ask him.”
The malignant creature was seated in his own parlour, with apoliceman upon each side of him.
“It was a joke, my good sir—a practical joke, nothing more,”
he whined incessantly. “I assure you, sir, that I simply concealedmyself in order to see the effect of my disappearance, and I amsure that you would not be so unjust as to imagine that I wouldhave allowed any harm to befall poor young Mr. McFarlane.”
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“That’s for a jury to decide,” said Lestrade. “Anyhow, we shallhave you on a charge of conspiracy, if not for attempted murder.”
“And you’ll probably find that your creditors will impound thebanking account of Mr. Cornelius,” said Holmes.
The little man started, and turned his malignant eyes upon myfriend.
“I have to thank you for a good deal,” said he. “Perhaps I’ll paymy debt some day.”
Holmes smiled indulgently.
“I fancy that, for some few years, you will find your time veryfully occupied,” said he. “By the way, what was it you put intothe wood-pile besides your old trousers? A dead dog, or rabbits,or what? You won’t tell? Dear me, how very unkind of you! Well,well, I daresay that a couple of rabbits would account both forthe blood and for the charred ashes. If ever you write an account,Watson, you can make rabbits serve your turn.”
The Adventure of the Dancing Men
Holmes had been seated for some hours in silence with his long,thin back curved over a chemical vessel in which he was brewinga particularly malodorous product. His head was sunk upon hisbreast, and he looked from my point of view like a strange, lankbird, with dull gray plumage and a black top-knot.
“So, Watson,” said he, suddenly, “you do not propose to invest inSouth African securities?”
I gave a start of astonishment. Accustomed as I was to Holmes’scurious faculties, this sudden intrusion into my most intimatethoughts was utterly inexplicable.
“How on earth do you know that?” I asked.
He wheeled round upon his stool, with a steaming test-tube inhis 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 absurdlysimple.”
“I am sure that I shall say nothing of the kind.”
“You see, my dear Watson,” —he propped his test-tube in therack, and began to lecture with the air of a professor addressinghis class— “it is not really difficult to construct a series ofinferences, each dependent upon its predecessor and each simplein itself. If, after doing so, one simply knocks out all the central888 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
