"A fraudulent imitation, Watson, though I should hardly dare to hint asmuch to our specialist. It is a very easy complaint to imitate. I havedone it myself."
"And then?"
"By the purest chance Blessington was out on each occasion. Their reasonfor choosing so unusual an hour for a consultation was obviously toinsure that there should be no other patient in the waiting-room. Itjust happened, however, that this hour coincided with Blessington'sconstitutional, which seems to show that they were not very wellacquainted with his daily routine. Of course, if they had been merelyafter plunder they would at least have made some attempt to search forit. Besides, I can read in a man's eye when it is his own skin that heis frightened for. It is inconceivable that this fellow could have madetwo such vindictive enemies as these appear to be without knowing of it.I hold it, therefore, to be certain that he does know who these men are,and that for reasons of his own he suppresses it. It is just possiblethat to-morrow may find him in a more communicative mood."
"Is there not one alternative," I suggested, "grotesquely improbable,no doubt, but still just conceivable? Might the whole story of thecataleptic Russian and his son be a concoction of Dr. Trevelyan's, whohas, for his own purposes, been in Blessington's rooms?"
I saw in the gaslight that Holmes wore an amused smile at this brilliantdeparture of mine.
"My dear fellow," said he, "it was one of the first solutions whichoccurred to me, but I was soon able to corroborate the doctor's tale.This young man has left prints upon the stair-carpet which made it quitesuperfluous for me to ask to see those which he had made in the room.When I tell you that his shoes were square-toed instead of being pointedlike Blessington's, and were quite an inch and a third longer than thedoctor's, you will acknowledge that there can be no doubt as to hisindividuality. But we may sleep on it now, for I shall be surprised ifwe do not hear something further from Brook Street in the morning."
Sherlock Holmes's prophecy was soon fulfilled, and in a dramaticfashion. At half-past seven next morning, in the first glimmer ofdaylight, I found him standing by my bedside in his dressing-gown.
"There's a brougham waiting for us, Watson," said he.
"What's the matter, then?"
"The Brook Street business."
"Any fresh news?"
"Tragic, but ambiguous," said he, pulling up the blind. "Look at this--asheet from a note-book, with 'For God's sake come at once--P. T.,'scrawled upon it in pencil. Our friend, the doctor, was hard put toit when he wrote this. Come along, my dear fellow, for it's an urgentcall."
In a quarter of an hour or so we were back at the physician's house. Hecame running out to meet us with a face of horror.
"Oh, such a business!" he cried, with his hands to his temples.
"What then?"
"Blessington has committed suicide!"
Holmes whistled.
"Yes, he hanged himself during the night."
We had entered, and the doctor had preceded us into what was evidentlyhis waiting-room.
"I really hardly know what I am doing," he cried. "The police arealready upstairs. It has shaken me most dreadfully."
"When did you find it out?"
"He has a cup of tea taken in to him early every morning. When the maidentered, about seven, there the unfortunate fellow was hanging in themiddle of the room. He had tied his cord to the hook on which the heavylamp used to hang, and he had jumped off from the top of the very boxthat he showed us yesterday."
Holmes stood for a moment in deep thought.
"With your permission," said he at last, "I should like to go upstairsand look into the matter."
We both ascended, followed by the doctor.
It was a dreadful sight which met us as we entered the bedroom door. Ihave spoken of the impression of flabbiness which this man Blessingtonconveyed. As he dangled from the hook it was exaggerated and intensifieduntil he was scarce human in his appearance. The neck was drawn outlike a plucked chicken's, making the rest of him seem the more obese andunnatural by the contrast. He was clad only in his long night-dress, andhis swollen ankles and ungainly feet protruded starkly from beneath it.Beside him stood a smart-looking police-inspector, who was taking notesin a pocket-book.
"Ah, Mr. Holmes," said he, heartily, as my friend entered, "I amdelighted to see you."
"Good-morning, Lanner," answered Holmes; "you won't think me anintruder, I am sure. Have you heard of the events which led up to thisaffair?"
"Yes, I heard something of them."
"Have you formed any opinion?"