“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 turnedinto a court of investigation. Holmes sat in a great, old-fashionedchair, his inexorable eyes gleaming out of his haggard face. I couldread in them a set purpose to devote his life to this quest untilthe client whom he had failed to save should at last be avenged.
The trim Inspector Martin, the old, gray-headed country doctor,myself, and a stolid village policeman made up the rest of thatstrange company.
The two women told their story clearly enough. They had beenaroused from their sleep by the sound of an explosion, whichhad been followed a minute later by a second one. They sleptin adjoining rooms, and Mrs. King had rushed in to Saunders.
Together they had descended the stairs. The door of the studywas open, and a candle was burning upon the table. Their master898 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
lay upon his face in the centre of the room. He was quite dead.
Near the window his wife was crouching, her head leaning againstthe wall. She was horribly wounded, and the side of her face wasred with blood. She breathed heavily, but was incapable of sayinganything. The passage, as well as the room, was full of smoke andthe smell of powder. The window was certainly shut and fastenedupon the inside. Both women were positive upon the point. Theyhad at once sent for the doctor and for the constable. Then, withthe aid of the groom and the stable-boy, they had conveyed theirinjured mistress to her room. Both she and her husband hadoccupied the bed. She was clad in her dress—he in his dressinggown,over his night-clothes. Nothing had been moved in thestudy. So far as they knew, there had never been any quarrelbetween husband and wife. They had always looked upon them asvery united couple.
These were the main points of the servants’ evidence. In answerto Inspector Martin, they were clear that every door was fastenedupon the inside, and that no one could have escaped from thehouse. In answer to Holmes, they both remembered that theywere conscious of the smell of powder from the moment that theyran out of their rooms upon the top floor. “I commend that factvery carefully to your attention,” said Holmes to his professionalcolleague. “And now I think that we are in a position to undertakethorough examination of the room.”
The study proved to be a small chamber, lined on three sideswith books, and with a writing-table facing an ordinary window,which looked out upon the garden. Our first attention was givento the body of the unfortunate squire, whose huge frame laystretched across the room. His disordered dress showed thathe had been hastily aroused from sleep. The bullet had beenfired at him from the front, and had remained in his body, afterpenetrating the heart. His death had certainly been instantaneousand painless. There was no powder-marking either upon hisdressing-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 presencemay mean everything,” said Holmes. “Unless the powder frombadly fitting cartridge happens to spurt backward, one mayfire many shots without leaving a sign. I would suggest that Mr.
Cubitt’s body may now be removed. I suppose, Doctor, you havenot recovered the bullet which wounded the lady?”
“A serious operation will be necessary before that can bedone. But there are still four cartridges in the revolver. Two havebeen fired and two wounds inflicted, so that each bullet can beaccounted for.”
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“So it would seem,” said Holmes. “Perhaps you can accountalso for the bullet which has so obviously struck the edge of thewindow?”
He had turned suddenly, and his long, thin finger was pointingto a hole which had been drilled right through the lower windowsash,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 personmust have been present. But who could that have been, and howcould he have got away?”
“That is the problem which we are now about to solve,” saidSherlock Holmes. “You remember, Inspector Martin, whenthe servants said that on leaving their room they were at onceconscious of a smell of powder, I remarked that the point was anextremely 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 wellas the door of the room had been open. Otherwise the fumes ofpowder could not have been blown so rapidly through the house.
A draught in the room was necessary for that. Both door andwindow were only open for a very short time, however.”
“How do you prove that?”
“Because the candle was not guttered.”
“Capital!” cried the inspector. “Capital!
“Feeling sure that the window had been open at the time of thetragedy, I conceived that there might have been a third personin the affair, who stood outside this opening and fired through it.
Any shot directed at this person might hit the sash. I looked, andthere, 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 thewindow. But, halloa! What is this?”
It was a lady’s hand-bag which stood upon the study table—atrim little handbag of crocodile-skin and silver. Holmes opened itand turned the contents out. There were twenty fifty-pound notesof the Bank of England, held together by an india-rubber band—nothing else.
