“Wait here an instant,” said young Alec Cunningham. “Thefellow is off his head, in my opinion. Come with me, father, andsee where he has got to!”
They rushed out of the room, leaving the inspector, the colonel,and me staring at each other.
“ ’Pon my word, I am inclined to agree with Master Alec,” saidthe official. “It may be the effect of this illness, but it seems to methat——”
His words were cut short by a sudden scream of “Help! Help!
Murder!” With a thrill I recognized the voice of that of my friend.
I rushed madly from the room on to the landing. The cries, whichhad sunk down into a hoarse, inarticulate shouting, came fromthe room which we had first visited. I dashed in, and on into thedressing-room beyond. The two Cunninghams were bending overthe prostrate figure of Sherlock Holmes, the younger clutchinghis throat with both hands, while the elder seemed to be twistingone of his wrists. In an instant the three of us had torn themaway from him, and Holmes staggered to his feet, very pale andevidently greatly exhausted.
“Arrest these men, Inspector,” he gasped.
“On what charge?”
“That of murdering their coachman, William Kirwan.”
The Inspector stared about him in bewilderment. “Oh, comenow, Mr. Holmes,” said he at last, “I’m sure you don’t reallymean to——”
“Tut, man, look at their faces!” cried Holmes, curtly.
Never certainly have I seen a plainer confession of guilt uponhuman countenances. The older man seemed numbed and dazed,with a heavy, sullen expression upon his strongly marked face.
The son, on the other hand, had dropped all that jaunty, dashingstyle which had characterized him, and the ferocity of a dangerouswild beast gleamed in his dark eyes and distorted his handsomefeatures. The Inspector said nothing, but, stepping to the door, heblew his whistle. Two of his constables came at the call.
“I have no alternative, Mr. Cunningham,” said he. “I trustthat this may all prove to be an absurd mistake, but you can seethat——Ah, would you? Drop it!” He struck out with his hand,and a revolver which the younger man was in the act of cockingclattered down upon the floor.
“Keep that,” said Holmes, quietly putting his foot upon it; “youwill find it useful at the trial. But this is what we really wanted.”
He held up a little crumpled piece of paper.
“The remainder of the sheet!” cried the inspector.
“Precisely.”
“And where was it?”
“Where I was sure it must be. I’ll make the whole matter clearto you presently. I think, Colonel, that you and Watson mightreturn now, and I will be with you again in an hour at the furthest.
The Inspector and I must have a word with the prisoners, but youwill certainly see me back at luncheon time.”
Sherlock Holmes was as good as his word, for about oneo’clock he rejoined us in the colonel’s smoking-room. He wasaccompanied by a little elderly gentleman, who was introducedto me as the Mr. Acton whose house had been the scene of theoriginal burglary.
“I wished Mr. Acton to be present while I demonstrated thissmall matter to you,” said Holmes, “for it is natural that he shouldtake a keen interest in the details. I am afraid, my dear Colonel,that you must regret the hour that you took in such a stormypetrel as I am.”
“On the contrary,” answered the colonel, warmly, “I considerit the greatest privilege to have been permitted to study yourmethods of working. I confess that they quite surpass myexpectations, and that I am utterly unable to account for yourresult. I have not yet seen the vestige of a clue.”
“I am afraid that my explanation may disillusion you but it hasalways been my habit to hide none of my methods, either frommy friend Watson or from any one who might take an intelligentinterest in them. But, first, as I am rather shaken by the knockingabout which I had in the dressing-room, I think that I shall helpmyself to a dash of your brandy, Colonel. My strength had beenrather tried of late.”
“I trust that you had no more of those nervous attacks.”
Sherlock Holmes laughed heartily. “We will come to that in itsturn,” said he. “I will lay an account of the case before you in itsdue order, showing you the various points which guided me in mydecision. Pray interrupt me if there is any inference which is notperfectly clear to you.
“It is of the highest importance in the art of detection to beable to recognize, out of a number of facts, which are incidentaland which vital. Otherwise your energy and attention must bedissipated instead of being concentrated. Now, in this case therewas not the slightest doubt in my mind from the first that the keyof the whole matter must be looked for in the scrap of paper inthe dead man’s hand.
“Before going into this, I would draw your attention to the factthat, if Alec Cunningham’s narrative was correct, and if the assailant,after shooting William Kirwan, had instantly fled, then it obviouslycould not be he who tore the paper from the dead man’s hand. Butif it was not he, it must have been Alec Cunningham himself, forby the time that the old man had descended several servants wereupon the scene. The point is a simple one, but the Inspector hadoverlooked it because he had started with the supposition thatthese county magnates had had nothing to do with the matter. Now,I make a point of never having any prejudices, and of followingdocilely wherever fact may lead me, and so, in the very first stage ofthe investigation, I found myself looking a little askance at the partwhich had been played by Mr. Alec Cunningham.
“And now I made a very careful examination of the corner ofpaper which the Inspector had submitted to us. It was at once clearto me that it formed part of a very remarkable document. Here it is.
Do you not now observe something very suggestive about it?”
“It has a very irregular look,” said the colonel.
“My dear sir,” cried Holmes, “there cannot be the least doubt inthe world that it has been written by two persons doing alternatewords. When I draw your attention to the strong t’s of ‘at’ and‘to,’and ask you to compare them with the weak ones of ‘quarter’
