“Yes; there is a point which I wish to ascertain. It is merely amatter of time. Hullo! we are going to hear some news now with avengeance! Here is Gregson coming down the road with beatitudewritten upon every feature of his face. Bound for us, I know. Yes,he is stopping. There he is!”
There was a violent peal at the bell, and in a few seconds thefair-haired detective came up the stairs, three steps at a time, andburst into our sitting-room.
“My dear fellow,” he cried, wringing Holmes’ unresponsive hand,“congratulate me! I have made the whole thing as clear as day.”
A shade of anxiety seemed to me to cross my companion’sexpressive face.
“Do you mean that you are on the right track?” he asked.
“The right track! Why, sir, we have the man under lock and key.”
“And his name is?”
“Arthur Charpentier, sub-lieutenant in Her Majesty’s navy,” criedGregson pompously rubbing his fat hands and inflating his chest.
Sherlock Holmes gave a sigh of relief, and relaxed into a smile.
“Take a seat, and try one of these cigars,” he said. “We areanxious to know how you managed it. Will you have some whiskeyand water?”
“I don’t mind if I do,” the detective answered. “The tremendousexertions which I have gone through during the last day or twohave worn me out. Not so much bodily exertion, you understand,as the strain upon the mind. You will appreciate that, Mr. SherlockHolmes, for we are both brain-workers.”
“You do me too much honour,” said Holmes, gravely. “Let ushear how you arrived at this most gratifying result.”
The detective seated himself in the armchair, and puffedcomplacently at his cigar. Then suddenly he slapped his thigh in aparoxysm of amusement.
“The fun of it is,” he cried, “that that fool Lestrade, who thinkshimself so smart, has gone off upon the wrong track altogether. Heis after the secretary Stangerson, who had no more to do with thecrime than the babe unborn. I have no doubt that he has caughthim by this time.”
The idea tickled Gregson so much that he laughed until he choked.
“And how did you get your clue?”
“Ah, I’ll tell you all about it. Of course, Doctor Watson, thisis strictly between ourselves. The first difficulty which we hadto contend with was the finding of this American’s antecedents.
Some people would have waited until their advertisementswere answered, or until parties came forward and volunteeredinformation. That is not Tobias Gregson’s way of going to work.
You remember the hat beside the dead man?”
“Yes,” said Holmes; “by John Underwood and Sons, 129,Camberwell Road.”
Gregson looked quite crestfallen.
“I had no idea that you noticed that,” he said. “Have you beenthere?”
“No.”
“Ha!” cried Gregson, in a relieved voice; “you should neverneglect a chance, however small it may seem.”
“To a great mind, nothing is little,” remarked Holmes,sententiously.
“Well, I went to Underwood, and asked him if he had sold a hatof that size and deion. He looked over his books, and cameon it at once. He had sent the hat to a Mr. Drebber, residing atCharpentier’s Boarding Establishment, Torquay Terrace. Thus Igot at his address.”
“Smart—very smart!” murmured Sherlock Holmes.
“I next called upon Madame Charpentier,” continued thedetective. “I found her very pale and distressed. Her daughterwas in the room, too—an uncommonly fine girl she is, too; shewas looking red about the eyes and her lips trembled as I spoketo her. That didn’t escape my notice. I began to smell a rat. Youknow the feeling, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, when you come upon theright scent—a kind of thrill in your nerves. ‘Have you heard of themysterious death of your late boarder Mr. Enoch J. Drebber, ofCleveland?’ I asked.
“The mother nodded. She didn’t seem able to get out a word.
The daughter burst into tears. I felt more than ever that thesepeople knew something of the matter.
“ ‘At what o’clock did Mr. Drebber leave your house for thetrain?’ I asked.
“ ‘At eight o’clock,’ she said, gulping in her throat to keep downher agitation. ‘His secretary, Mr. Stangerson, said that there weretwo trains—one at 9.15 and one at 11. He was to catch the first.“ ‘And was that the last which you saw of him?’A terrible change came over the woman’s face as I asked thequestion. Her features turned perfectly livid. It was some secondsbefore she could get out the single word ‘Yes’—and when it didcome it was in a husky, unnatural tone.
“There was silence for a moment, and then the daughter spokein a calm, clear voice.‘No good can ever come of falsehood, mother,’ she said. ‘Let usbe frank with this gentleman. We did see Mr. Drebber again.’‘God forgive you!’ cried Madame Charpentier, throwing upher hands and sinking back in her chair. ‘You have murdered yourbrother.’‘Arthur would rather that we spoke the truth,’ the girl answeredfirmly.You had best tell me all about it now,’ I said. ‘Half-confidencesare worse than none. Besides, you do not know how much weknow of it.’On your head be it, Alice!’ cried her mother; and then, turningto me, ‘I will tell you all, sir. Do not imagine that my agitation onbehalf of my son arises from any fear lest he should have had ahand in this terrible affair. He is utterly innocent of it. My dread is,however, that in your eyes and in the eyes of others he may appearto be compromised. That, however, is surely impossible. His highcharacter, his profession, his antecedents would all forbid it.’Your best way is to make a clean breast of the facts,’ I answered.
Depend upon it, if your son is innocent he will be none the worse.Perhaps, Alice, you had better leave us together,’ she said,and her daughter withdrew. ‘Now, sir,’ she continued, ‘I had nointention of telling you all this, but since my poor daughter hasdisclosed it I have no alternative. Having once decided to speak, Iwill tell you all without omitting any particular.’
It is your wisest course,’ said I.
Mr. Drebber has been with us nearly three weeks. He and hissecretary, Mr. Stangerson, had been travelling on the Continent.
