He was well liked by the few neighbours who called upon him, andhe has the reputation down there of being a very learned man. Hishousehold used to consist of an elderly housekeeper, Mrs. Marker,and of a maid, Susan Tarlton. These have both been with him sincehis arrival, and they seem to be women of excellent character. Theprofessor is writing a learned book, and he found it necessary,about a year ago, to engage a secretary. The first two that hetried were not successes, but the third, Mr. Willoughby Smith, avery young man straight from the university, seems to have beenjust what his employer wanted. His work consisted in writing allthe morning to the professor’s dictation, and he usually spentthe evening in hunting up references and passages which boreupon the next day’s work. This Willoughby Smith has nothingagainst him, either as a boy at Uppingham or as a young man atCambridge. I have seen his testimonials, and from the first he wasa decent, quiet, hard-working fellow, with no weak spot in him atall. And yet this is the lad who has met his death this morning inthe professor’s study under circumstances which can point only tomurder.”
The wind howled and screamed at the windows. Holmes and Idrew closer to the fire, while the young inspector slowly and pointby point developed his singular narrative.
“If you were to search all England,” said he, “I don’t suppose youcould find a household more self-contained or freer from outsideinfluences. Whole weeks would pass, and not one of them go pastthe garden gate. The professor was buried in his work and existedfor nothing else. Young Smith knew nobody in the neighbourhood,and lived very much as his employer did. The two women hadnothing to take them from the house. Mortimer, the gardener,who wheels the Bath chair, is an army pensioner—an old Crimeanman of excellent character. He does not live in the house, but ina three-roomed cottage at the other end of the garden. Those arethe only people that you would find within the grounds of YoxleyOld Place. At the same time, the gate of the garden is a hundredyards from the main London to Chatham road. It opens with alatch, and there is nothing to prevent anyone from walking in.
“Now I will give you the evidence of Susan Tarlton, who is theonly person who can say anything positive about the matter. Itwas in the forenoon, between eleven and twelve. She was engagedat the moment in hanging some curtains in the upstairs frontbedroom. Professor Coram was still in bed, for when the weatheris bad he seldom rises before midday. The housekeeper was busiedwith some work in the back of the house. Willoughby Smith hadbeen in his bedroom, which he uses as a sitting-room, but the maidheard him at that moment pass along the passage and descendto the study immediately below her. She did not see him, but shesays that she could not be mistaken in his quick, firm tread. Shedid not hear the study door close, but a minute or so later therewas a dreadful cry in the room below. It was a wild, hoarse scream,so strange and unnatural that it might have come either from aman or a woman. At the same instant there was a heavy thud,which shook the old house, and then all was silence. The maidstood petrified for a moment, and then, recovering her courage,she ran downstairs. The study door was shut and she opened it.
Inside, young Mr. Willoughby Smith was stretched upon the floor.
At first she could see no injury, but as she tried to raise him shesaw that blood was pouring from the underside of his neck. It waspierced by a very small but very deep wound, which had dividedthe carotid artery. The instrument with which the injury had beeninflicted lay upon the carpet beside him. It was one of those smallsealing-wax knives to be found on old-fashioned writing-tables,with an ivory handle and a stiff blade. It was part of the fittings ofthe professor’s own desk.
“At first the maid thought that young Smith was already dead,but on pouring some water from the carafe over his forehead heopened his eyes for an instant. ‘The professor,’ he murmured— ‘itwas she.’ The maid is prepared to swear that those were the exactwords. He tried desperately to say something else, and he held hisright hand up in the air. Then he fell back dead.
“In the meantime the housekeeper had also arrived upon thescene, but she was just too late to catch the young man’s dyingwords. Leaving Susan with the body, she hurried to the professorsroom. He was sitting up in bed, horribly agitated, for he had heardenough to convince him that something terrible had occurred.
Mrs. Marker is prepared to swear that the professor was still inhis night-clothes, and indeed it was impossible for him to dresswithout the help of Mortimer, whose orders were to come attwelve o’clock. The professor declares that he heard the distantcry, but that he knows nothing more. He can give no explanationof the young man’s last words, ‘The professor—it was she,’ butimagines that they were the outcome of delirium. He believesthat Willoughby Smith had not an enemy in the world, andcan give no reason for the crime. His first action was to sendMortimer, the gardener, for the local police. A little later thechief constable sent for me. Nothing was moved before I gotthere, and strict orders were given that no one should walkupon the paths leading to the house. It was a splendid chance ofputting your theories into practice, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Therewas really nothing wanting.”
“Except Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” said my companion, with asomewhat bitter smile. “Well, let us hear about it. What sort of ajob did you make of it?”
“I must ask you first, Mr. Holmes, to glance at this rough plan,which will give you a general idea of the position of the professor’sstudy and the various points of the case. It will help you infollowing my investigation.”
He unfolded the rough chart, which I here reproduce, and helaid it across Holmes’s knee. I rose and, standing behind Holmes,studied it over his shoulder.
