"Thank you, you have gone rather too far to stop."
"It is quite certain that when Mrs. Barclay left the house at half-pastseven she was on good terms with her husband. She was never, as I thinkI have said, ostentatiously affectionate, but she was heard by thecoachman chatting with the Colonel in a friendly fashion. Now, it wasequally certain that, immediately on her return, she had gone to theroom in which she was least likely to see her husband, had flown to teaas an agitated woman will, and finally, on his coming in to her, hadbroken into violent recriminations. Therefore something had occurredbetween seven-thirty and nine o'clock which had completely altered herfeelings towards him. But Miss Morrison had been with her during thewhole of that hour and a half. It was absolutely certain, therefore, inspite of her denial, that she must know something of the matter.
"My first conjecture was, that possibly there had been some passagesbetween this young lady and the old soldier, which the former had nowconfessed to the wife. That would account for the angry return, andalso for the girl's denial that anything had occurred. Nor would it beentirely incompatible with most of the words overheard. But there was thereference to David, and there was the known affection of the Colonel forhis wife, to weigh against it, to say nothing of the tragic intrusionof this other man, which might, of course, be entirely disconnected withwhat had gone before. It was not easy to pick one's steps, but, on thewhole, I was inclined to dismiss the idea that there had been anythingbetween the Colonel and Miss Morrison, but more than ever convinced thatthe young lady held the clue as to what it was which had turned Mrs.Barclay to hatred of her husband. I took the obvious course, therefore,of calling upon Miss M., of explaining to her that I was perfectlycertain that she held the facts in her possession, and of assuring herthat her friend, Mrs. Barclay, might find herself in the dock upon acapital charge unless the matter were cleared up.
"Miss Morrison is a little ethereal slip of a girl, with timid eyesand blond hair, but I found her by no means wanting in shrewdness andcommon-sense. She sat thinking for some time after I had spoken, andthen, turning to me with a brisk air of resolution, she broke into aremarkable statement which I will condense for your benefit.
"'I promised my friend that I would say nothing of the matter, and apromise is a promise,' said she; 'but if I can really help her whenso serious a charge is laid against her, and when her own mouth, poordarling, is closed by illness, then I think I am absolved from mypromise. I will tell you exactly what happened upon Monday evening.
"'We were returning from the Watt Street Mission about a quarter to nineo'clock. On our way we had to pass through Hudson Street, which isa very quiet thoroughfare. There is only one lamp in it, upon theleft-hand side, and as we approached this lamp I saw a man comingtowards us with his back very bent, and something like a box slung overone of his shoulders. He appeared to be deformed, for he carried hishead low and walked with his knees bent. We were passing him when heraised his face to look at us in the circle of light thrown by the lamp,and as he did so he stopped and screamed out in a dreadful voice, "MyGod, it's Nancy!" Mrs. Barclay turned as white as death, and would havefallen down had the dreadful-looking creature not caught hold of her. Iwas going to call for the police, but she, to my surprise, spoke quitecivilly to the fellow.
"'"I thought you had been dead this thirty years, Henry," said she, in ashaking voice.
"'"So I have," said he, and it was awful to hear the tones that he saidit in. He had a very dark, fearsome face, and a gleam in his eyes thatcomes back to me in my dreams. His hair and whiskers were shot withgray, and his face was all crinkled and puckered like a withered apple.
"'"Just walk on a little way, dear," said Mrs. Barclay; "I want to havea word with this man. There is nothing to be afraid of." She tried tospeak boldly, but she was still deadly pale and could hardly get herwords out for the trembling of her lips.
"'I did as she asked me, and they talked together for a few minutes.Then she came down the street with her eyes blazing, and I saw thecrippled wretch standing by the lamp-post and shaking his clenched fistsin the air as if he were mad with rage. She never said a word until wewere at the door here, when she took me by the hand and begged me totell no one what had happened.
"'"It's an old acquaintance of mine who has come down in the world,"said she. When I promised her I would say nothing she kissed me, and Ihave never seen her since. I have told you now the whole truth, and ifI withheld it from the police it is because I did not realize then thedanger in which my dear friend stood. I know that it can only be to heradvantage that everything should be known.'
"There was her statement, Watson, and to me, as you can imagine, it waslike a light on a dark night. Everything which had been disconnectedbefore began at once to assume its true place, and I had a shadowypresentiment of the whole sequence of events. My next step obviously wasto find the man who had produced such a remarkable impression upon Mrs.Barclay. If he were still in Aldershot it should not be a very difficultmatter. There are not such a very great number of civilians, and adeformed man was sure to have attracted attention. I spent a day in thesearch, and by evening--this very evening, Watson--I had run him down.The man's name is Henry Wood, and he lives in lodgings in this samestreet in which the ladies met him. He has only been five days in theplace. In the character of a registration-agent I had a most interestinggossip with his landlady. The man is by trade a conjurer and performer,going round the c
anteens after nightfall, and giving a littleentertainment at each. He carries some creature about with him in thatbox; about which the landlady seemed to be in considerable trepidation,for she had never seen an animal like it. He uses it in some of histricks according to her account. So much the woman was able to tell me,and also that it was a wonder the man lived, seeing how twisted he was,and that he spoke in a strange tongue sometimes, and that for the lasttwo nights she had heard him groaning and weeping in his bedroom. Hewas all right, as far as money went, but in his deposit he had given herwhat looked like a bad florin. She showed it to me, Watson, and it wasan Indian rupee.
"So now, my dear fellow, you see exactly how we stand and why it is Iwant you. It is perfectly plain that after the ladies parted from thisman he followed them at a distance, that he saw the quarrel betweenhusband and wife through the window, that he rushed in, and thatthe creature which he carried in his box got loose. That is all verycertain. But he is the only person in this world who can tell us exactlywhat happened in that room."
"And you intend to ask him?"
"Most certainly--but in the presence of a witness."
"And I am the witness?"
"If you will be so good. If he can clear the matter up, well and good.If he refuses, we have no alternative but to apply for a warrant."
"But how do you know he'll be there when we return?"
"You may be sure that I took some precautions. I have one of my BakerStreet boys mounting guard over him who would stick to him like a burr,go where he might. We shall find him in Hudson Street to-morrow, Watson,and meanwhile I should be the criminal myself if I kept you out of bedany longer."
It was midday when we found ourselves at the scene of the tragedy, and,under my companion's guidance, we made our way at once to Hudson Street.In spite of his capacity for concealing his emotions, I could easily seethat Holmes was in a state of suppressed excitement, while I was myselftingling with that half-sporting, half-intellectual pleasure whichI invariably experienced when I associated myself with him in hisinvestigations.
"This is the street," said he, as we turned into a short thoroughfarelined with plain two-storied brick houses. "Ah, here is Simpson toreport."
"He's in all right, Mr. Holmes," cried a small street Arab, running upto us.
"Good, Simpson!" said Holmes, patting him on the head. "Come along,Watson. This is the house." He sent in his card with a message that hehad come on important business, and a moment later we were face to facewith the man whom we had come to see. In spite of the warm weather hewas crouching over a fire, and the little room was like an oven. Theman sat all twisted and huddled in his chair in a way which gave anindescribable impression of deformity; but the face which he turnedtowards us, though worn and swarthy, must at some time have beenremarkable for its beauty. He looked suspiciously at us now out ofyellow-shot, bilious eyes, and, without speaking or rising, he wavedtowards two chairs.
"Mr. Henry Wood, late of India, I believe," said Holmes, affably. "I'vecome over this little matter of Colonel Barclay's death."
"What should I know about that?"
"That's what I want to ascertain. You know, I suppose, that unless thematter is cleared up, Mrs. Barclay, who is an old friend of yours, willin all probability be tried for murder."
The man gave a violent start.
"I don't know who you are," he cried, "nor how you come to know what youdo know, but will you swear that this is true that you tell me?"
"Why, they are only waiting for her to come to her senses to arresther."