The Valley of Fear (Sherlock Holmes 7)

"The clothes are commonplace," remarked Holmes, "save only theovercoat, which is full of suggestive touches." He held it tenderlytowards the light. "Here, as you perceive, is the inner pocketprolonged into the lining in such fashion as to give ample space forthe truncated fowling piece. The tailor's tab is on the neck--'Neal,Outfitter, Vermissa, U. S. A.' I have spent an instructive afternoon inthe rector's library, and have enlarged my knowledge by adding the factthat Vermissa is a flourishing little town at the head of one of thebest known coal and iron valleys in the United States. I have somerecollection, Mr. Barker, that you associated the coal districts withMr. Douglas's first wife, and it would surely not be too far-fetched aninference that the V. V. upon the card by the dead body might stand forVermissa Valley, or that this very valley which sends forth emissariesof murder may be that Valley of Fear of which we have heard. So much isfairly clear. And now, Mr. Barker, I seem to be standing rather in theway of your explanation."

It was a sight to see Cecil Barker's expressive face during thisexposition of the great detective. Anger, amazement, conste

rnation, andindecision swept over it in turn. Finally he took refuge in a somewhatacrid irony.

"You know such a lot, Mr. Holmes, perhaps you had better tell us somemore," he sneered.

"I have no doubt that I could tell you a great deal more, Mr. Barker;but it would come with a better grace from you."

"Oh, you think so, do you? Well, all I can say is that if there's anysecret here it is not my secret, and I am not the man to give it away."

"Well, if you take that line, Mr. Barker," said the inspector quietly,"we must just keep you in sight until we have the warrant and can holdyou."

"You can do what you damn please about that," said Barker defiantly.

The proceedings seemed to have come to a definite end so far as he wasconcerned; for one had only to look at that granite face to realizethat no peine forte et dure would ever force him to plead against hiswill. The deadlock was broken, however, by a woman's voice. Mrs.Douglas had been standing listening at the half opened door, and nowshe entered the room.

"You have done enough for now, Cecil," said she. "Whatever comes of itin the future, you have done enough."

"Enough and more than enough," remarked Sherlock Holmes gravely. "Ihave every sympathy with you, madam, and should strongly urge you tohave some confidence in the common sense of our jurisdiction and totake the police voluntarily into your complete confidence. It may bethat I am myself at fault for not following up the hint which youconveyed to me through my friend, Dr. Watson; but, at that time I hadevery reason to believe that you were directly concerned in the crime.Now I am assured that this is not so. At the same time, there is muchthat is unexplained, and I should strongly recommend that you ask Mr.Douglas to tell us his own story."

Mrs. Douglas gave a cry of astonishment at Holmes's words. Thedetectives and I must have echoed it, when we were aware of a man whoseemed to have emerged from the wall, who advanced now from the gloomof the corner in which he had appeared. Mrs. Douglas turned, and in aninstant her arms were round him. Barker had seized his outstretchedhand.

"It's best this way, Jack," his wife repeated; "I am sure that it isbest."

"Indeed, yes, Mr. Douglas," said Sherlock Holmes, "I am sure that youwill find it best."

The man stood blinking at us with the dazed look of one who comes fromthe dark into the light. It was a remarkable face, bold gray eyes, astrong, short-clipped, grizzled moustache, a square, projecting chin,and a humorous mouth. He took a good look at us all, and then to myamazement he advanced to me and handed me a bundle of paper.

"I've heard of you," said he in a voice which was not quite English andnot quite American, but was altogether mellow and pleasing. "You arethe historian of this bunch. Well, Dr. Watson, you've never had such astory as that pass through your hands before, and I'll lay my lastdollar on that. Tell it your own way; but there are the facts, and youcan't miss the public so long as you have those. I've been cooped uptwo days, and I've spent the daylight hours--as much daylight as Icould get in that rat trap--in putting the thing into words. You'rewelcome to them--you and your public. There's the story of the Valleyof Fear."

"That's the past, Mr. Douglas," said Sherlock Holmes quietly. "What wedesire now is to hear your story of the present."

"You'll have it, sir," said Douglas. "May I smoke as I talk? Well,thank you, Mr. Holmes. You're a smoker yourself, if I remember right,and you'll guess what it is to be sitting for two days with tobacco inyour pocket and afraid that the smell will give you away." He leanedagainst the mantelpiece and sucked at the cigar which Holmes had handedhim. "I've heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I never guessed that I should meetyou. But before you are through with that," he nodded at my papers,"you will say I've brought you something fresh."

Inspector MacDonald had been staring at the newcomer with the greatestamazement. "Well, this fairly beats me!" he cried at last. "If you areMr. John Douglas of Birlstone Manor, then whose death have we beeninvestigating for these two days, and where in the world have yousprung from now? You seemed to me to come out of the floor like ajack-in-a-box."

"Ah, Mr. Mac," said Holmes, shaking a reproving forefinger, "you wouldnot read that excellent local compilation which described theconcealment of King Charles. People did not hide in those days withoutexcellent hiding places, and the hiding place that has once been usedmay be again. I had persuaded myself that we should find Mr. Douglasunder this roof."

"And how long have you been playing this trick upon us, Mr. Holmes?"said the inspector angrily. "How long have you allowed us to wasteourselves upon a search that you knew to be an absurd one?"

"Not one instant, my dear Mr. Mac. Only last night did I form my viewsof the case. As they could not be put to the proof until this evening,I invited you and your colleague to take a holiday for the day. Praywhat more could I do? When I found the suit of clothes in the moat, itat once became apparent to me that the body we had found could not havebeen the body of Mr. John Douglas at all, but must be that of thebicyclist from Tunbridge Wells. No other conclusion was possible.Therefore I had to determine where Mr. John Douglas himself could be,and the balance of probability was that with the connivance of his wifeand his friend he was concealed in a house which had such conveniencesfor a fugitive, and awaiting quieter times when he could make his finalescape."

"Well, you figured it out about right," said Douglas approvingly. "Ithought I'd dodge your British law; for I was not sure how I stoodunder it, and also I saw my chance to throw these hounds once for alloff my track. Mind you, from first to last I have done nothing to beashamed of, and nothing that I would not do again; but you'll judgethat for yourselves when I tell you my story. Never mind warning me,Inspector: I'm ready to stand pat upon the truth.

"I'm not going to begin at the beginning. That's all there," heindicated my bundle of papers, "and a mighty queer yarn you'll find it.It all comes down to this: That there are some men that have good causeto hate me and would give their last dollar to know that they had gotme. So long as I am alive and they are alive, there is no safety inthis world for me. They hunted me from Chicago to California, then theychased me out of America; but when I married and settled down in thisquiet spot I thought my last years were going to be peaceable.

"I never explained to my wife how things were. Why should I pull herinto it? She would never have a quiet moment again; but would always beimagining trouble. I fancy she knew something, for I may have dropped aword here or a word there; but until yesterday, after you gentlemen hadseen her, she never knew the rights of the matter. She told you all sheknew, and so did Barker here; for on the night when this thing happenedthere was mighty little time for explanations. She knows everythingnow, and I would have been a wiser man if I had told her sooner. But itwas a hard question, dear," he took her hand for an instant in his own,"and I acted for the best.

"Well, gentlemen, the day before these happenings I was over inTunbridge Wells, and I got a glimpse of a man in the street. It wasonly a glimpse; but I have a quick eye for these things, and I neverdoubted who it was. It was the worst enemy I had among them all--onewho has been after me like a hungry wolf after a caribou all theseyears. I knew there was trouble coming, and I came home and made readyfor it. I guessed I'd fight through it all right on my own, my luck wasa proverb in the States about '76. I never doubted that it would bewith me still.

"I was on my guard all that next day, and never went out into the park.It's as well, or he'd have had the drop on me with that buckshot gun ofhis before ever I could draw on him. After the bridge was up--my mindwas always more restful when that bridge was up in the evenings--I putthe thing clear out of my head. I never dreamed of his getting into thehouse and waiting for me. But when I made my round in my dressing gown,as was my habit, I had no sooner entered the study than I scenteddanger. I guess when a man has had dangers in his life--and I've hadmore than most in my time--there is a kind of sixth sense that wavesthe red flag. I saw the signal clear enough, and yet I couldn't tellyou why. Next instant I spotted a boot under the window curtain, andthen I sa

w why plain enough.

"I'd just the one candle that was in my hand; but there was a goodlight from the hall lamp through the open door. I put down the candleand jumped for a hammer that I'd left on the mantel. At the same momenthe sprang at me. I saw the glint of a knife, and I lashed at him withthe hammer. I got him somewhere; for the knife tinkled down on thefloor. He dodged round the table as quick as an eel, and a moment laterhe'd got his gun from under his coat. I heard him cock it; but I hadgot hold of it before he could fire. I had it by the barrel, and wewrestled for it all ends up for a minute or more. It was death to theman that lost his grip.

"He never lost his grip; but he got it butt downward for a moment toolong. Maybe it was I that pulled the trigger. Maybe we just jolted itoff between us. Anyhow, he got both barrels in the face, and there Iwas, staring down at all that was left of Ted Baldwin. I'd recognizedhim in the township, and again when he sprang for me; but his ownmother wouldn't recognize him as I saw him then. I'm used to roughwork; but I fairly turned sick at the sight of him.