"Ay, what's the game?" my friend repeated thoughtfully.
White Mason chuckled and rubbed his fat hands together in hisprofessional satisfaction. "I said it was a snorter!" he cried. "And areal snorter it is!"
Chapter 6
A Dawning Light
The three detectives had many matters of detail into which to inquire;so I returned alone to our modest quarters at the village inn. Butbefore doing so I took a stroll in the curious old-world garden whichflanked the house. Rows of very ancient yew trees cut into strangedesigns girded it round. Inside was a beautiful stretch of lawn with anold sundial in the middle, the whole effect so soothing and restfulthat it was welcome to my somewhat jangled nerves.
In that deeply peaceful atmosphere one could forget, or remember onlyas some fantastic nightmare, that darkened study with the sprawling,bloodstained figure on the floor. And yet, as I strolled round it andtried to steep my soul in its gentle balm, a strange incident occurred,which brought me back to the tragedy and left a sinister impression inmy mind.
I have said that a decoration of yew trees circled the garden. At theend farthest from the house they thickened into a continuous hedge. Onthe other side of this hedge, concealed from the eyes of anyoneapproaching from the direction of the house, there was a stone seat. AsI approached the spot I was aware of voices, some remark in the deeptones of a man, answered by a little ripple of feminine laughter.
An instant later I had come round the end of the hedge and my eyes litupon Mrs. Douglas and the man Barker before they were aware of mypresence. Her appearance gave me a shock. In the dining-room she hadbeen demure and discreet. Now all pretense of grief had passed awayfrom her. Her eyes shone with the joy of living, and her face stillquivered with amusement at some remark of her companion. He satforward, his hands clasped and his forearms on his knees, with ananswering smile upon his bold, handsome face. In an instant--but it wasjust one instant too late--they resumed their solemn masks as my figurecame into view. A hurried word or two passed between them, and thenBarker rose and came towards me.
"Excuse me, sir," said he, "but am I addressing Dr. Watson?"
I bowed with a coldness which showed, I dare say, very plainly theimpression which had been produced upon my mind.
"We thought that it was probably you, as your friendship with Mr.Sherlock Holmes is so well known. Would you mind coming over andspeaking to Mrs. Douglas for one instant?"
I followed him with a dour face. Very clearly I could see in my mind'seye that shattered figure on the floor. Here within a few hours of thetragedy were his wife and his nearest friend laughing together behind abush in the garden which had been his. I greeted the lady with reserve.I had grieved with her grief in the dining-room. Now I met herappealing gaze with an unresponsive eye.
"I fear that you think me callous and hard-hearted." said she.
I shrugged my shoulders. "It is no business of mine," said I.
"Perhaps some day you will do me justice. If you only realized--"
"There is no need why Dr. Watson should realize," said Barker quickly."As he has himself said, it is no possible business of his."
"Exactly," said I, "and so I will beg leave to resume my walk."
"One moment, Dr. Watson," cried the woman in a pleading voice. "Thereis one question which you can answer with more authority than anyoneelse in the world, and it may make a very great difference to me. Youknow Mr. Holmes and his relations with the police better than anyoneelse can. Supposing that a matter were brought confidentially to hisknowledge, is it absolutely necessary that he should pass it on to thedetectives?"
"Yes, that's it," said Barker eagerly. "Is he on his own or is heentirely in with them?"
"I really don't know that I should be justified in discussing such apoint."
"I beg--I implore that you will, Dr. Watson! I assure you that you willbe helping us--helping me greatly if you will guide us on that point."
There was such a ring of sincerity in the woman's voice that for theinstant I forgot all about her levity and was moved only to do her will.
"Mr. Holmes is an independent investigator," I said. "He is his ownmaster, and would act as his own judgment directed. At the same time,he would naturally feel loyalty towards the officials who were workingon the same case, and he would not conceal from them anything whichwould help them in bringing a criminal to justice. Beyond this I cansay nothing, and I would refer you to Mr. Holmes himself if you wantedfuller information."
So saying I raised my hat and went upon my way, leaving them stillseated behind that concealing hedge. I looked back as I rounded the farend of it, and saw that they were still talking very earnestlytogether, and, as they were gazing after me, it was clear that it wasour interview that was the subject of their debate.
"I wish none of their confidences," said Holmes, when I reported to himwhat had occurred. He had spent the whole afternoon at the Manor Housein consultation with his two colleagues, and returned about five with aravenous appetite for a high tea which I had ordered for him. "Noconfidences, Watson; for they are mighty awkward if it comes to anarrest for conspiracy and murder."
"You think it will come to that?"
He was in his most cheerful and debonair humour. "My dear Watson, whenI have exterminated that fourth egg I shall be ready to put you intouch with the whole situation. I don't say that we have fathomedit--far from it--but when we have traced the missing dumb-bell--"
"The dumb-bell!"
"Dear me, Watson, is it possible that you have not penetrated the factthat the case hangs upon the missing dumb-bell? Well, well, you neednot be downcast; for between ourselves I don't think that eitherInspector Mac or the excellent local practitioner has grasped theoverwhelming importance of this incident. One dumb-bell, Watson!Consider an athlete with one dumb-bell! Picture to yourself theunilateral development, the imminent danger of a spinal curvature.Shocking, Watson, shocking!"
He sat with his mouth full of toast and his eyes sparkling withmischief, watching my intellectual entanglement. The mere sight of hisexcellent appetite was an assurance of success, for I had very clearrecollections of days and nights without a thought of food, when hisbaffled mind had chafed before some problem while his thin, eagerfeatures became more attenuated with the asceticism of complete mentalconcentration. Finally he lit his pipe, and sitting in the inglenook ofthe old village inn he talked slowly and at random about his case,rather as one who thinks aloud than as one who makes a consideredstatement.