"Well, at least," said Holmes, "you have had your revenge uponthem. There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp which,when it was crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls,though no doubt they were too excited in the chase after you toobserve it at the time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd foryour friends of last night, though I very much fear that they area good hundred miles off by
now."
And Holmes' fears came to be realised, for from that day to thisno word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman, thesinister German, or the morose Englishman. Early that morning apeasant had met a cart containing several people and some verybulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading, butthere all traces of the fugitives disappeared, and even Holmes'ingenuity failed ever to discover the least clue as to theirwhereabouts.
The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangementswhich they had found within, and still more so by discovering anewly severed human thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor.About sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful, andthey subdued the flames, but not before the roof had fallen in,and the whole place been reduced to such absolute ruin that, savesome twisted cylinders and iron piping, not a trace remained ofthe machinery which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance sodearly. Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered storedin an out-house, but no coins were to be found, which may haveexplained the presence of those bulky boxes which have beenalready referred to.
How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden tothe spot where he recovered his senses might have remainedforever a mystery were it not for the soft mould, which told us avery plain tale. He had evidently been carried down by twopersons, one of whom had remarkably small feet and the otherunusually large ones. On the whole, it was most probable that thesilent Englishman, being less bold or less murderous than hiscompanion, had assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man outof the way of danger.
"Well," said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to returnonce more to London, "it has been a pretty business for me! Ihave lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee, and whathave I gained?"
"Experience," said Holmes, laughing. "Indirectly it may be ofvalue, you know; you have only to put it into words to gain thereputation of being excellent company for the remainder of yourexistence."
X. THE ADVENTURE OF THE NOBLE BACHELOR
The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, havelong ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circlesin which the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals haveeclipsed it, and their more piquant details have drawn thegossips away from this four-year-old drama. As I have reason tobelieve, however, that the full facts have never been revealed tothe general public, and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had aconsiderable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that nomemoir of him would be complete without some little sketch ofthis remarkable episode.
It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when Iwas still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he camehome from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the tablewaiting for him. I had remained indoors all day, for the weatherhad taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal winds, andthe Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs asa relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence.With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another, I hadsurrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers until at last,saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all aside andlay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon theenvelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend'snoble correspondent could be.
"Here is a very fashionable epistle," I remarked as he entered."Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from afish-monger and a tide-waiter."
"Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety," heanswered, smiling, "and the humbler are usually the moreinteresting. This looks like one of those unwelcome socialsummonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie."
He broke the seal and glanced over the contents.
"Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all."
"Not social, then?"
"No, distinctly professional."
"And from a noble client?"
"One of the highest in England."
"My dear fellow, I congratulate you."
"I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of myclient is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of hiscase. It is just possible, however, that that also may not bewanting in this new investigation. You have been reading thepapers diligently of late, have you not?"
"It looks like it," said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle inthe corner. "I have had nothing else to do."
"It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. Iread nothing except the criminal news and the agony column. Thelatter is always instructive. But if you have followed recentevents so closely you must have read about Lord St. Simon and hiswedding?"
"Oh, yes, with the deepest interest."
"That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from LordSt. Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turnover these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter.This is what he says:
"'MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:--Lord Backwater tells me that Imay place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion. Ihave determined, therefore, to call upon you and to consult youin reference to the very painful event which has occurred inconnection with my wedding. Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, isacting already in the matter, but he assures me that he sees noobjection to your co-operation, and that he even thinks thatit might be of some assistance. I will call at four o'clock inthe afternoon, and, should you have any other engagement at thattime, I hope that you will postpone it, as this matter is ofparamount importance. Yours faithfully, ST. SIMON.'
"It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill pen,and the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of inkupon the outer side of his right little finger," remarked Holmesas he folded up the epistle.
"He says four o'clock. It is three now. He will be here in anhour."
"Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear uponthe subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts intheir order of time, while I take a glance as to who our clientis." He picked a red-covered volume from a line of books ofreference beside the mantelpiece. "Here he is," said he, sittingdown and flattening it out upon his knee. "'Lord Robert Walsinghamde Vere St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral.' Hum! 'Arms:Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess sable. Born in 1846.'He's forty-one years of age, which is mature for marriage. WasUnder-Secretary for the colonies in a late administration. TheDuke, his father, was at one time Secretary for Foreign Affairs.They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, and Tudor onthe distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing very instructive inall this. I think that I must turn to you Watson, for somethingmore solid."
"I have very little difficulty in finding what I want," said I,"for the facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me asremarkable. I feared to refer them to you, however, as I knewthat you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked theintrusion of other matters."
"Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Squarefurniture van. That is quite cleared up now--though, indeed, itwas obvious from the first. Pray give me the results of yournewspaper selections."