The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle CONTENTS 1. The Singular Experience of Mr. John Scott Eccles 2. The Tiger of San Pedro 1. The Singular Experience of Mr. John Scott Eccles I find it recorded in my notebook that it was a bleak and windy daytowards the end of March in the year 1892. Holmes had received atelegram while we sat at our lunch, and he had scribbled a reply. Hemade no remark, but the matter remained in his thoughts, for he stoodin front of the fire afterwards with a thoughtful face, smoking hispipe, and casting an occasional glance at the message. Suddenly heturned upon me with a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. "I suppose, Watson, we must look upon you as a man of letters, " saidhe. "How do you define the word 'grotesque'?" "Strange--remarkable, " I suggested. He shook his head at my definition. "There is surely something more than that, " said he; "some underlyingsuggestion of the tragic and the terrible. If you cast your mind backto some of those narratives with which you have afflicted along-suffering public, you will recognize how often the grotesque hasdeepened into the criminal. Think of that little affair of thered-headed men. That was grotesque enough in the outset, and yet itended in a desperate attempt at robbery. Or, again, there was thatmost grotesque affair of the five orange pips, which let straight to amurderous conspiracy. The word puts me on the alert. " "Have you it there?" I asked. He read the telegram aloud. "Have just had most incredible and grotesque experience. May I consultyou? "Scott Eccles, "Post Office, Charing Cross. " "Man or woman?" I asked. "Oh, man, of course. No woman would ever send a reply-paid telegram. She would have come. " "Will you see him?" "My dear Watson, you know how bored I have been since we locked upColonel Carruthers. My mind is like a racing engine, tearing itself topieces because it is not connected up with the work for which it wasbuilt. Life is commonplace, the papers are sterile; audacity andromance seem to have passed forever from the criminal world. Can youask me, then, whether I am ready to look into any new problem, howevertrivial it may prove? But here, unless I am mistaken, is our client. " A measured step was heard upon the stairs, and a moment later a stout, tall, gray-whiskered and solemnly respectable person was ushered intothe room. His life history was written in his heavy features andpompous manner. From his spats to his gold-rimmed spectacles he was aConservative, a churchman, a good citizen, orthodox and conventional tothe last degree. But some amazing experience had disturbed his nativecomposure and left its traces in his bristling hair, his flushed, angrycheeks, and his flurried, excited manner. He plunged instantly into hisbusiness. "I have had a most singular and unpleasant experience, Mr. Holmes, "said he. "Never in my life have I been placed in such a situation. Itis most improper--most outrageous. I must insist upon someexplanation. " He swelled and puffed in his anger. "Pray sit down, Mr. Scott Eccles, " said Holmes in a soothing voice. "May I ask, in the first place, why you came to me at all?" "Well, sir, it did not appear to be a matter which concerned thepolice, and yet, when you have heard the facts, you must admit that Icould not leave it where it was. Private detectives are a class withwhom I have absolutely no sympathy, but none the less, having heardyour name--" "Quite so. But, in the second place, why did you not come at once?" Holmes glanced at his watch. "It is a quarter-past two, " he said. "Your telegram was dispatchedabout one. But no one can glance at your toilet and attire withoutseeing that your disturbance dates from the moment of your waking. " Our client smoothed down his unbrushed hair and felt his unshaven chin. "You are right, Mr. Holmes. I never gave a thought to my toilet. I wasonly too glad to get out of such a house. But I have been runninground making inquiries before I came to you. I went to the houseagents, you know, and they said that Mr. Garcia's rent was paid up allright and that everything was in order at Wisteria Lodge. " "Come, come, sir, " said Holmes, laughing. "You are like my friend, Dr. Watson, who has a bad habit of telling his stories wrong end foremost. Please arrange your thoughts and let me know, in their due sequence, exactly what those events are which have sent you out unbrushed andunkempt, with dress boots and waistcoat buttoned awry, in search ofadvice and assistance. " Our client looked down with a rueful face at his own unconventionalappearance. "I'm sure it must look very bad, Mr. Holmes, and I am not aware that inmy whole life such a thing has ever happened before. But will tell youthe whole queer business, and when I have done so you will admit, I amsure, that there has been enough to excuse me. " But his narrative was nipped in the bud. There was a bustle outside, and Mrs. Hudson opened the door to usher in two robust andofficial-looking individuals, one of whom was well known to us asInspector Gregson of Scotland Yard, an energetic, gallant, and, withinhis limitations, a capable officer. He shook hands with Holmes andintroduced his comrade as Inspector Baynes, of the Surrey Constabulary. "We are hunting together, Mr. Holmes, and our trail lay in thisdirection. " He turned his bulldog eyes upon our visitor. "Are you Mr. John Scott Eccles, of Popham House, Lee?" "I am. " "We have been following you about all the morning. " "You traced him through the telegram, no doubt, " said Holmes. "Exactly, Mr. Holmes. We picked up the scent at Charing CrossPost-Office and came on here. " "But why do you follow me? What do you want?" "We wish a statement, Mr. Scott Eccles, as to the events which let upto the death last night of Mr. Aloysius Garcia, of Wisteria Lodge, nearEsher. " Our client had sat up with staring eyes and every tinge of colourstruck from his astonished face. "Dead? Did you say he was dead?" "Yes, sir, he is dead. " "But how? An accident?" "Murder, if ever there was one upon earth. " "Good God! This is awful! You don't mean--you don't mean that I amsuspected?" "A letter of yours was found in the dead man's pocket, and we know byit that you had planned to pass last night at his house. " "So I did. " "Oh, you did, did you?" Out came the official notebook. "Wait a bit, Gregson, " said Sherlock Holmes. "All you desire is aplain statement, is it not?" "And it is my duty to warn Mr. Scott Eccles that it may be used againsthim. " "Mr. Eccles was going to tell us about it when you entered the room. Ithink, Watson, a brandy and soda would do him no harm. Now, sir, Isuggest that you take no notice of this addition to your audience, andthat you proceed with your narrative exactly as you would have done hadyou never been interrupted. " Our visitor had gulped off the brandy and the colour had returned tohis face. With a dubious glance at the inspector's notebook, heplunged at once into his extraordinary statement. "I am a bachelor, " said he, "and being of a sociable turn I cultivate alarge number of friends. Among these are the family of a retiredbrewer called Melville, living at Abermarle Mansion, Kensington. Itwas at his table that I met some weeks ago a young fellow named Garcia. He was, I understood, of Spanish descent and connected in some way withthe embassy. He spoke perfect English, was pleasing in his manners, and as good-looking a man as ever I saw in my life. "In some way we struck up quite a friendship, this young fellow and I. He seemed to take a fancy to me from the first, and within two days ofour meeting he came to see me at Lee. One thing led to another, and itended in his inviting me out to spend a few days at his house, WisteriaLodge, between Esher and Oxshott. Yesterday evening I went to Esher tofulfil this engagement. "He had described his household to me before I went there. He livedwith a faithful servant, a countryman of his own, who looked after allhis needs. This fellow could speak English and did his housekeepingfor him. Then there was a wonderful cook, he said, a half-breed whomhe had picked up in his travels, who could serve an excellent dinner. I remember that he remarked what a queer household it was to find inthe heart of Surrey, and that I agreed with him, though it has proved agood deal queerer than I thought. "I drove to the place--about two miles on the south side of Esher. Thehouse was a fair-sized one, standing back from the road, with a curvingdrive which was banked with high evergreen shrubs. It was an old, tumbledown building in a crazy state of disrepair. When the trappulled up on the grass-grown drive in front of the blotched andweather-stained door, I had doubts as to my wisdom in visiting a manwhom I knew so slightly. He opened the door himself, however, andgreeted me with a great show of cordiality. I was handed over to themanservant, a melancholy, swarthy individual, who led the way, my bagin his hand, to my bedroom. The whole place was depressing. Ourdinner was tete-a-tete, and though my host did his best to beentertaining, his thoughts seemed to continually wander, and he talkedso vaguely and wildly that I could hardly understand him. Hecontinually drummed his fingers on the table, gnawed his nails, andgave other signs of nervous impatience. The dinner itself was neitherwell served nor well cooked, and the gloomy presence of the taciturnservant did not help to enliven us. I can assure you that many timesin the course of the evening I wished that I could invent some excusewhich would take me back to Lee. "One thing comes back to my memory which may have a bearing upon thebusiness that you two gentlemen are investigating. I thought nothingof it at the time. Near the end of dinner a note was handed in by theservant. I noticed that after my host had read it he seemed even moredistrait and strange than before. He gave up all pretence atconversation and sat, smoking endless cigarettes, lost in his ownthoughts, but he made no remark as to the contents. About eleven I wasglad to go to bed. Some time later Garcia looked in at my door--theroom was dark at the time--and asked me if I had rung. I said that Ihad not. He apologized for having disturbed me so late, saying that itwas nearly one o'clock. I dropped off after this and slept soundly allnight. "And now I come to the amazing part of my tale. When I woke it wasbroad daylight. I glanced at my watch, and the time was nearly nine. I had particularly asked to be called at eight, so I was very muchastonished at this forgetfulness. I sprang up and rang for theservant. There was no response. I rang again and again, with the sameresult. Then I came to the conclusion that the bell was out of order. I huddled on my clothes and hurried downstairs in an exceedingly badtemper to order some hot water. You can imagine my surprise when Ifound that there was no one there. I shouted in the hall. There wasno answer. Then I ran from room to room. All were deserted. My hosthad shown me which was his bedroom the night before, so I knocked atthe door. No reply. I turned the handle and walked in. The room wasempty, and the bed had never been slept in. He had gone with the rest. The foreign host, the foreign footman, the foreign cook, all hadvanished in the night! That was the end of my visit to Wisteria Lodge. " Sherlock Holmes was rubbing his hands and chuckling as he added thisbizarre incident to his collection of strange episodes. "Your experience is, so far as I know, perfectly unique, " said he. "May I ask, sir, what you did then?" "I was furious. My first idea was that I had been the victim of someabsurd practical joke. I packed my things, banged the hall door behindme, and set off for Esher, with my bag in my hand. I called at AllanBrothers', the chief land agents in the village, and found that it wasfrom this firm that the villa had been rented. It struck me that thewhole proceeding could hardly be for the purpose of making a fool ofme, and that the main object must be to get out of the rent. It islate in March, so quarter-day is at hand. But this theory would notwork. The agent was obliged to me for my warning, but told me that therent had been paid in advance. Then I made my way to town and calledat the Spanish embassy. The man was unknown there. After this I wentto see Melville, at whose house I had first met Garcia, but I foundthat he really knew rather less about him than I did. Finally when Igot your reply to my wire I came out to you, since I gather that youare a person who gives advice in difficult cases. But now, Mr. Inspector, I understand, from what you said when you entered the room, that you can carry the story on, and that some tragedy had occurred. Ican assure you that every word I have said is the truth, and that, outside of what I have told you, I know absolutely nothing about thefate of this man. My only desire is to help the law in every possibleway. " "I am sure of it, Mr. Scott Eccles--I am sure of it, " said InspectorGregson in a very amiable tone. "I am bound to say that everythingwhich you have said agrees very closely with the facts as they havecome to our notice. For example, there was that note which arrivedduring dinner. Did you chance to observe what became of it?" "Yes, I did. Garcia rolled it up and threw it into the fire. " "What do you say to that, Mr. Baynes?" The country detective was a stout, puffy, red man, whose face was onlyredeemed from grossness by two extraordinarily bright eyes, almosthidden behind the heavy creases of cheek and brow. With a slow smilehe drew a folded and discoloured scrap of paper from his pocket. "It was a dog-grate, Mr. Holmes, and he overpitched it. I picked thisout unburned from the back of it. " Holmes smiled his appreciation. "You must have examined the house very carefully to find a singlepellet of paper. " "I did, Mr. Holmes. It's my way. Shall I read it, Mr. Gregson?" The Londoner nodded. "The note is written upon ordinary cream-laid paper without watermark. It is a quarter-sheet. The paper is cut off in two snips with ashort-bladed scissors. It has been folded over three times and sealedwith purple wax, put on hurriedly and pressed down with some flat ovalobject. It is addressed to Mr. Garcia, Wisteria Lodge. It says: "Our own colours, green and white. Green open, white shut. Mainstair, first corridor, seventh right, green baize. Godspeed. D. "It is a woman's writing, done with a sharp-pointed pen, but theaddress is either done with another pen or by someone else. It isthicker and bolder, as you see. " "A very remarkable note, " said Holmes, glancing it over. "I mustcompliment you, Mr. Baynes, upon your attention to detail in yourexamination of it. A few trifling points might perhaps be added. Theoval seal is undoubtedly a plain sleeve-link--what else is of such ashape? The scissors were bent nail scissors. Short as the two snipsare, you can distinctly see the same slight curve in each. " The country detective chuckled. "I thought I had squeezed all the juice out of it, but I see there wasa little over, " he said. "I'm bound to say that I make nothing of thenote except that there was something on hand, and that a woman, asusual was at the bottom of it. " Mr. Scott Eccles had fidgeted in his seat during this conversation. "I am glad you found the note, since it corroborates my story, " saidhe. "But I beg to point out that I have not yet heard what hashappened to Mr. Garcia, nor what has become of his household. " "As to Garcia, " said Gregson, "that is easily answered. He was founddead this morning upon Oxshott Common, nearly a mile from his home. His head had been smashed to pulp by heavy blows of a sandbag or somesuch instrument, which had crushed rather than wounded. It is a lonelycorner, and there is no house within a quarter of a mile of the spot. He had apparently been struck down first from behind, but his assailanthad gone on beating him long after he was dead. It was a most furiousassault. There are no footsteps nor any clue to the criminals. " "Robbed?" "No, there was no attempt at robbery. " "This is very painful--very painful and terrible, " said Mr. ScottEccles in a querulous voice, "but it is really uncommonly hard on me. I had nothing to do with my host going off upon a nocturnal excursionand meeting so sad an end. How do I come to be mixed up with the case?" "Very simply, sir, " Inspector Baynes answered. "The only documentfound in the pocket of the deceased was a letter from you saying thatyou would be with him on the night of his death. It was the envelope ofthis letter which gave us the dead man's name and address. It wasafter nine this morning when we reached his house and found neither younor anyone else inside it. I wired to Mr. Gregson to run you down inLondon while I examined Wisteria Lodge. Then I came into town, joinedMr. Gregson, and here we are. " "I think now, " said Gregson, rising, "we had best put this matter intoan official shape. You will come round with us to the station, Mr. Scott Eccles, and let us have your statement in writing. " "Certainly, I will come at once. But I retain your services, Mr. Holmes. I desire you to spare no expense and no pains to get at thetruth. " My friend turned to the country inspector. "I suppose that you have no objection to my collaborating with you, Mr. Baynes?" "Highly honoured, sir, I am sure. " "You appear to have been very prompt and businesslike in all that youhave done. Was there any clue, may I ask, as to the exact hour thatthe man met his death?" "He had been there since one o'clock. There was rain about that time, and his death had certainly been before the rain. " "But that is perfectly impossible, Mr. Baynes, " cried our client. "Hisvoice is unmistakable. I could swear to it that it was he whoaddressed me in my bedroom at that very hour. " "Remarkable, but by no means impossible, " said Holmes, smiling. "You have a clue?" asked Gregson. "On the face of it the case is not a very complex one, though itcertainly presents some novel and interesting features. A furtherknowledge of facts is necessary before I would venture to give a finaland definite opinion. By the way, Mr. Baynes, did you find anythingremarkable besides this note in your examination of the house?" The detective looked at my friend in a singular way. "There were, " said he, "one or two _very_ remarkable things. Perhapswhen I have finished at the police-station you would care to come outand give me your opinion of them. " "I am entirely at your service, " said Sherlock Holmes, ringing thebell. "You will show these gentlemen out, Mrs. Hudson, and kindly sendthe boy with this telegram. He is to pay a five-shilling reply. " We sat for some time in silence after our visitors had left. Holmessmoked hard, with his browns drawn down over his keen eyes, and hishead thrust forward in the eager way characteristic of the man. "Well, Watson, " he asked, turning suddenly upon me, "what do you makeof it?" "I can make nothing of this mystification of Scott Eccles. " "But the crime?" "Well, taken with the disappearance of the man's companions, I shouldsay that they were in some way concerned in the murder and had fledfrom justice. " "That is certainly a possible point of view. On the face of it youmust admit, however, that it is very strange that his two servantsshould have been in a conspiracy against him and should have attackedhim on the one night when he had a guest. They had him alone at theirmercy every other night in the week. " "Then why did they fly?" "Quite so. Why did they fly? There is a big fact. Another big factis the remarkable experience of our client, Scott Eccles. Now, my dearWatson, is it beyond the limits of human ingenuity to furnish anexplanation which would cover both of these big facts? If it were onewhich would also admit of the mysterious note with its very curiousphraseology, why, then it would be worth accepting as a temporaryhypothesis. If the fresh facts which come to our knowledge all fitthemselves into the scheme, then our hypothesis may gradually become asolution. " "But what is our hypothesis?" Holmes leaned back in his chair with half-closed eyes. "You must admit, my dear Watson, that the idea of a joke is impossible. There were grave events afoot, as the sequel showed, and the coaxing ofScott Eccles to Wisteria Lodge had some connection with them. " "But what possible connection?" "Let us take it link by link. There is, on the face of it, somethingunnatural about this strange and sudden friendship between the youngSpaniard and Scott Eccles. It was the former who forced the pace. Hecalled upon Eccles at the other end of London on the very day after hefirst met him, and he kept in close touch with him until he got himdown to Esher. Now, what did he want with Eccles? What could Ecclessupply? I see no charm in the man. He is not particularlyintelligent--not a man likely to be congenial to a quick-witted Latin. Why, then, was he picked out from all the other people whom Garcia metas particularly suited to his purpose? Has he any one outstandingquality? I say that he has. He is the very type of conventionalBritish respectability, and the very man as a witness to impressanother Briton. You saw yourself how neither of the inspectors dreamedof questioning his statement, extraordinary as it was. " "But what was he to witness?" "Nothing, as things turned out, but everything had they gone anotherway. That is how I read the matter. " "I see, he might have proved an alibi. " "Exactly, my dear Watson; he might have proved an alibi. We willsuppose, for argument's sake, that the household of Wisteria Lodge areconfederates in some design. The attempt, whatever it may be, is tocome off, we will say, before one o'clock. By some juggling of theclocks it is quite possible that they may have got Scott Eccles to bedearlier than he thought, but in any case it is likely that when Garciawent out of his way to tell him that it was one it was really not morethan twelve. If Garcia could do whatever he had to do and be back bythe hour mentioned he had evidently a powerful reply to any accusation. Here was this irreproachable Englishman ready to swear in any court oflaw that the accused was in the house all the time. It was aninsurance against the worst. " "Yes, yes, I see that. But how about the disappearance of the others?" "I have not all my facts yet, but I do not think there are anyinsuperable difficulties. Still, it is an error to argue in front ofyour data. You find yourself insensibly twisting them round to fityour theories. " "And the message?" "How did it run? 'Our own colours, green and white. ' Sounds likeracing. 'Green open, white shut. ' That is clearly a signal. 'Mainstair, first corridor, seventh right, green baize. ' This is anassignation. We may find a jealous husband at the bottom of it all. It was clearly a dangerous quest. She would not have said 'Godspeed'had it not been so. 'D'--that should be a guide. " "The man was a Spaniard. I suggest that 'D' stands for Dolores, acommon female name in Spain. " "Good, Watson, very good--but quite inadmissable. A Spaniard wouldwrite to a Spaniard in Spanish. The writer of this note is certainlyEnglish. Well, we can only possess our soul in patience until thisexcellent inspector come back for us. Meanwhile we can thank our luckyfate which has rescued us for a few short hours from the insufferablefatigues of idleness. " * * * An answer had arrived to Holmes's telegram before our Surrey officerhad returned. Holmes read it and was about to place it in his notebookwhen he caught a glimpse of my expectant face. He tossed it across witha laugh. "We are moving in exalted circles, " said he. The telegram was a list of names and addresses: Lord Harringby, The Dingle; Sir George Ffolliott, Oxshott Towers; Mr. Hynes Hynes, J. P. , Purdley Place; Mr. James Baker Williams, Forton OldHall; Mr. Henderson, High Gable; Rev. Joshua Stone, Nether Walsling. "This is a very obvious way of limiting our field of operations, " saidHolmes. "No doubt Baynes, with his methodical mind, has alreadyadopted some similar plan. " "I don't quite understand. " "Well, my dear fellow, we have already arrived at the conclusion thatthe massage received by Garcia at dinner was an appointment or anassignation. Now, if the obvious reading of it is correct, and inorder to keep the tryst one has to ascend a main stair and seek theseventh door in a corridor, it is perfectly clear that the house is avery large one. It is equally certain that this house cannot be morethan a mile or two from Oxshott, since Garcia was walking in thatdirection and hoped, according to my reading of the facts, to be backin Wisteria Lodge in time to avail himself of an alibi, which wouldonly be valid up to one o'clock. As the number of large houses closeto Oxshott must be limited, I adopted the obvious method of sending tothe agents mentioned by Scott Eccles and obtaining a list of them. Here they are in this telegram, and the other end of our tangled skeinmust lie among them. " * * * It was nearly six o'clock before we found ourselves in the prettySurrey village of Esher, with Inspector Baynes as our companion. Holmes and I had taken things for the night, and found comfortablequarters at the Bull. Finally we set out in the company of thedetective on our visit to Wisteria Lodge. It was a cold, dark Marchevening, with a sharp wind and a fine rain beating upon our faces, afit setting for the wild common over which our road passed and thetragic goal to which it led us. 2. The Tiger of San Pedro A cold and melancholy walk of a couple of miles brought us to a highwooden gate, which opened into a gloomy avenue of chestnuts. The curvedand shadowed drive led us to a low, dark house, pitch-black against aslate-coloured sky. From the front window upon the left of the doorthere peeped a glimmer of a feeble light. "There's a constable in possession, " said Baynes. "I'll knock at thewindow. " He stepped across the grass plot and tapped with his hand onthe pane. Through the fogged glass I dimly saw a man spring up from achair beside the fire, and heard a sharp cry from within the room. Aninstant later a white-faced, hard-breathing policeman had opened thedoor, the candle wavering in his trembling hand. "What's the matter, Walters?" asked Baynes sharply. The man mopped his forehead with his handkerchief and agave a long sighof relief. "I am glad you have come, sir. It has been a long evening, and I don'tthink my nerve is as good as it was. " "Your nerve, Walters? I should not have thought you had a nerve inyour body. " "Well, sir, it's this lonely, silent house and the queer thing in thekitchen. Then when you tapped at the window I thought it had comeagain. " "That what had come again?" "The devil, sir, for all I know. It was at the window. " "What was at the window, and when?" "It was just about two hours ago. The light was just fading. I wassitting reading in the chair. I don't know what made me look up, butthere was a face looking in at me through the lower pane. Lord, sir, what a face it was! I'll see it in my dreams. " "Tut, tut, Walters. This is not talk for a police-constable. " "I know, sir, I know; but it shook me, sir, and there's no use to denyit. It wasn't black, sir, nor was it white, nor any colour that I knowbut a kind of queer shade like clay with a splash of milk in it. Thenthere was the size of it--it was twice yours, sir. And the look ofit--the great staring goggle eyes, and the line of white teeth like ahungry beast. I tell you, sir, I couldn't move a finger, nor get mybreath, till it whisked away and was gone. Out I ran and through theshrubbery, but thank God there was no one there. " "If I didn't know you were a good man, Walters, I should put a blackmark against you for this. If it were the devil himself a constable onduty should never thank God that he could not lay his hands upon him. I suppose the whole thing is not a vision and a touch of nerves?" "That, at least, is very easily settled, " said Holmes, lighting hislittle pocket lantern. "Yes, " he reported, after a short examinationof the grass bed, "a number twelve shoe, I should say. If he was allon the same scale as his foot he must certainly have been a giant. " "What became of him?" "He seems to have broken through the shrubbery and made for the road. " "Well, " said the inspector with a grave and thoughtful face, "whoeverhe may have been, and whatever he may have wanted, he's gone for thepresent, and we have more immediate things to attend to. Now, Mr. Holmes, with your permission, I will show you round the house. " The various bedrooms and sitting-rooms had yielded nothing to a carefulsearch. Apparently the tenants had brought little or nothing withthem, and all the furniture down to the smallest details had been takenover with the house. A good deal of clothing with the stamp of Marxand Co. , High Holborn, had been left behind. Telegraphic inquiries hadbeen already made which showed that Marx knew nothing of his customersave that he was a good payer. Odds and ends, some pipes, a fewnovels, two of them in Spanish, and old-fashioned pinfire revolver, anda guitar were among the personal property. "Nothing in all this, " said Baynes, stalking, candle in hand, from roomto room. "But now, Mr. Holmes, I invite your attention to the kitchen. " It was a gloomy, high-ceilinged room at the back of the house, with astraw litter in one corner, which served apparently as a bed for thecook. The table was piled with half-eaten dishes and dirty plates, thedebris of last night's dinner. "Look at this, " said Baynes. "What do you make of it?" He held up his candle before an extraordinary object which stood at theback of the dresser. It was so wrinkled and shrunken and withered thatit was difficult to say what it might have been. One could but say thatit was black and leathery and that it bore some resemblance to adwarfish, human figure. At first, as I examined it, I thought that itwas a mummified negro baby, and then it seemed a very twisted andancient monkey. Finally I was left in doubt as to whether it wasanimal or human. A double band of white shells were strung round thecentre of it. "Very interesting--very interesting, indeed!" said Holmes, peering atthis sinister relic. "Anything more?" In silence Baynes led the way to the sink and held forward his candle. The limbs and body of some large, white bird, torn savagely to pieceswith the feathers still on, were littered all over it. Holmes pointedto the wattles on the severed head. "A white cock, " said he. "Most interesting! It is really a verycurious case. " But Mr. Baynes had kept his most sinister exhibit to the last. Fromunder the sink he drew a zinc pail which contained a quantity of blood. Then from the table he took a platter heaped with small pieces ofcharred bone. "Something has been killed and something has been burned. We raked allthese out of the fire. We had a doctor in this morning. He says thatthey are not human. " Holmes smiled and rubbed his hands. "I must congratulate you, Inspector, on handling so distinctive andinstructive a case. Your powers, if I may say so without offence, seemsuperior to your opportunities. " Inspector Baynes's small eyes twinkled with pleasure. "You're right, Mr. Holmes. We stagnate in the provinces. A case ofthis sort gives a man a chance, and I hope that I shall take it. Whatdo you make of these bones?" "A lamb, I should say, or a kid. " "And the white cock?" "Curious, Mr. Baynes, very curious. I should say almost unique. " "Yes, sir, there must have been some very strange people with some verystrange ways in this house. One of them is dead. Did his companionsfollow him and kill him? If they did we should have them, for everyport is watched. But my own views are different. Yes, sir, my ownviews are very different. " "You have a theory then?" "And I'll work it myself, Mr. Holmes. It's only due to my own creditto do so. Your name is made, but I have still to make mine. I shouldbe glad to be able to say afterwards that I had solved it without yourhelp. " Holmes laughed good-humoredly. "Well, well, Inspector, " said he. "Do you follow your path and I willfollow mine. My results are always very much at your service if youcare to apply to me for them. I think that I have seen all that I wishin this house, and that my time may be more profitably employedelsewhere. Au revoir and good luck!" I could tell by numerous subtle signs, which might have been lost uponanyone but myself, that Holmes was on a hot scent. As impassive asever to the casual observer, there were none the less a subduedeagerness and suggestion of tension in his brightened eyes and briskermanner which assured me that the game was afoot. After his habit hesaid nothing, and after mine I asked no questions. Sufficient for meto share the sport and lend my humble help to the capture withoutdistracting that intent brain with needless interruption. All wouldcome round to me in due time. I waited, therefore--but to my ever-deepening disappointment I waitedin vain. Day succeeded day, and my friend took no step forward. Onemorning he spent in town, and I learned from a casual reference that hehad visited the British Museum. Save for this one excursion, he spenthis days in long and often solitary walks, or in chatting with a numberof village gossips whose acquaintance he had cultivated. "I'm sure, Watson, a week in the country will be invaluable to you, " heremarked. "It is very pleasant to see the first green shoots upon thehedges and the catkins on the hazels once again. With a spud, a tinbox, and an elementary book on botany, there are instructive days to bespent. " He prowled about with this equipment himself, but it was apoor show of plants which he would bring back of an evening. Occasionally in our rambles we came across Inspector Baynes. His fat, red face wreathed itself in smiles and his small eyes glittered as hegreeted my companion. He said little about the case, but from thatlittle we gathered that he also was not dissatisfied at the course ofevents. I must admit, however, that I was somewhat surprised when, some five days after the crime, I opened my morning paper to find inlarge letters: THE OXSHOTT MYSTERY A SOLUTION ARREST OF SUPPOSED ASSASSIN Holmes sprang in his chair as if he had been stung when I read theheadlines. "By Jove!" he cried. "You don't mean that Baynes has got him?" "Apparently, " said I as I read the following report: "Great excitement was caused in Esher and the neighbouring districtwhen it was learned late last night that an arrest had been effected inconnection with the Oxshott murder. It will be remembered that Mr. Garcia, of Wisteria Lodge, was found dead on Oxshott Common, his bodyshowing signs of extreme violence, and that on the same night hisservant and his cook fled, which appeared to show their participationin the crime. It was suggested, but never proved, that the deceasedgentleman may have had valuables in the house, and that theirabstraction was the motive of the crime. Every effort was made byInspector Baynes, who has the case in hand, to ascertain the hidingplace of the fugitives, and he had good reason to believe that they hadnot gone far but were lurking in some retreat which had been alreadyprepared. It was certain from the first, however, that they wouldeventually be detected, as the cook, from the evidence of one or twotradespeople who have caught a glimpse of him through the window, was aman of most remarkable appearance--being a huge and hideous mulatto, with yellowish features of a pronounced negroid type. This man hasbeen seen since the crime, for he was detected and pursued by ConstableWalters on the same evening, when he had the audacity to revisitWisteria Lodge. Inspector Baynes, considering that such a visit musthave some purpose in view and was likely, therefore, to be repeated, abandoned the house but left an ambuscade in the shrubbery. The manwalked into the trap and was captured last night after a struggle inwhich Constable Downing was badly bitten by the savage. We understandthat when the prison is brought before the magistrates a remand will beapplied for by the police, and that great developments are hoped fromhis capture. " "Really we must see Baynes at once, " cried Holmes, picking up his hat. "We will just catch him before he starts. " We hurried down the villagestreet and found, as we had expected, that the inspector was justleaving his lodgings. "You've seen the paper, Mr. Holmes?" he asked, holding one out to us. "Yes, Baynes, I've seen it. Pray don't think it a liberty if I giveyou a word of friendly warning. " "Of warning, Mr. Holmes?" "I have looked into this case with some care, and I am not convincedthat you are on the right lines. I don't want you to commit yourselftoo far unless you are sure. " "You're very kind, Mr. Holmes. " "I assure you I speak for your good. " It seemed to me that something like a wink quivered for an instant overone of Mr. Baynes's tiny eyes. "We agreed to work on our own lines, Mr. Holmes. That's what I amdoing. " "Oh, very good, " said Holmes. "Don't blame me. " "No, sir; I believe you mean well by me. But we all have our ownsystems, Mr. Holmes. You have yours, and maybe I have mine. " "Let us say no more about it. " "You're welcome always to my news. This fellow is a perfect savage, asstrong as a cart-horse and as fierce as the devil. He chewed Downing'sthumb nearly off before they could master him. He hardly speaks a wordof English, and we can get nothing out of him but grunts. " "And you think you have evidence that he murdered his late master?" "I didn't say so, Mr. Holmes; I didn't say so. We all have our littleways. You try yours and I will try mine. That's the agreement. " Holmes shrugged his shoulders as we walked away together. "I can'tmake the man out. He seems to be riding for a fall. Well, as he says, we must each try our own way and see what comes of it. But there'ssomething in Inspector Baynes which I can't quite understand. " "Just sit down in that chair, Watson, " said Sherlock Holmes when we hadreturned to our apartment at the Bull. "I want to put you in touchwith the situation, as I may need your help to-night. Let me show youthe evolution of this case so far as I have been able to follow it. Simple as it has been in its leading features, it has none the lesspresented surprising difficulties in the way of an arrest. There aregaps in that direction which we have still to fill. "We will go back to the note which was handed in to Garcia upon theevening of his death. We may put aside this idea of Baynes's thatGarcia's servants were concerned in the matter. The proof of this liesin the fact that it was _he_ who had arranged for the presence of ScottEccles, which could only have been done for the purpose of an alibi. It was Garcia, then, who had an enterprise, and apparently a criminalenterprise, in hand that night in the course of which he met his death. I say 'criminal' because only a man with a criminal enterprise desiresto establish an alibi. Who, then, is most likely to have taken hislife? Surely the person against whom the criminal enterprise wasdirected. So far it seems to me that we are on safe ground. "We can now see a reason for the disappearance of Garcia's household. They were _all_ confederates in the same unknown crime. If it came offwhen Garcia returned, any possible suspicion would be warded off by theEnglishman's evidence, and all would be well. But the attempt was adangerous one, and if Garcia did _not_ return by a certain hour it wasprobable that his own life had been sacrificed. It had been arranged, therefore, that in such a case his two subordinates were to make forsome prearranged spot where they could escape investigation and be in aposition afterwards to renew their attempt. That would fully explainthe facts, would it not?" The whole inexplicable tangle seemed to straighten out before me. Iwondered, as I always did, how it had not been obvious to me before. "But why should one servant return?" "We can imagine that in the confusion of flight something precious, something which he could not bear to part with, had been left behind. That would explain his persistence, would it not?" "Well, what is the next step?" "The next step is the note received by Garcia at the dinner. Itindicates a confederate at the other end. Now, where was the otherend? I have already shown you that it could only lie in some largehouse, and that the number of large houses is limited. My first days inthis village were devoted to a series of walks in which in theintervals of my botanical researches I made a reconnaissance of all thelarge houses and an examination of the family history of the occupants. One house, and only one, riveted my attention. It is the famous oldJacobean grange of High Gable, one mile on the farther side of Oxshott, and less than half a mile from the scene of the tragedy. The othermansions belonged to prosaic and respectable people who live far alooffrom romance. But Mr. Henderson, of High Gable, was by all accounts acurious man to whom curious adventures might befall. I concentrated myattention, therefore, upon him and his household. "A singular set of people, Watson--the man himself the most singular ofthem all. I managed to see him on a plausible pretext, but I seemed toread in his dark, deepset, brooding eyes that he was perfectly aware ofmy true business. He is a man of fifty, strong, active, with iron-grayhair, great bunched black eyebrows, the step of a deer and the air ofan emperor--a fierce, masterful man, with a red-hot spirit behind hisparchment face. He is either a foreigner or has lived long in thetropics, for he is yellow and sapless, but tough as whipcord. Hisfriend and secretary, Mr. Lucas, is undoubtedly a foreigner, chocolatebrown, wily, suave, and catlike, with a poisonous gentleness of speech. You see, Watson, we have come already upon two sets of foreigners--oneat Wisteria Lodge and one at High Gable--so our gaps are beginning toclose. "These two men, close and confidential friends, are the centre of thehousehold; but there is one other person who for our immediate purposemay be even more important. Henderson has two children--girls ofeleven and thirteen. Their governess is a Miss Burnet, an Englishwomanof forty or thereabouts. There is also one confidential manservant. This little group forms the real family, for their travel abouttogether, and Henderson is a great traveller, always on the move. Itis only within the last weeks that he has returned, after a year'sabsence, to High Gable. I may add that he is enormously rich, andwhatever his whims may be he can very easily satisfy them. For therest, his house is full of butlers, footmen, maidservants, and theusual overfed, underworked staff of a large English country house. "So much I learned partly from village gossip and partly from my ownobservation. There are no better instruments than discharged servantswith a grievance, and I was lucky enough to find one. I call it luck, but it would not have come my way had I not been looking out for it. As Baynes remarks, we all have our systems. It was my system whichenabled me to find John Warner, late gardener of High Gable, sacked ina moment of temper by his imperious employer. He in turn had friendsamong the indoor servants who unite in their fear and dislike of theirmaster. So I had my key to the secrets of the establishment. "Curious people, Watson! I don't pretend to understand it all yet, butvery curious people anyway. It's a double-winged house, and theservants live on one side, the family on the other. There's no linkbetween the two save for Henderson's own servant, who serves thefamily's meals. Everything is carried to a certain door, which formsthe one connection. Governess and children hardly go out at all, except into the garden. Henderson never by any chance walks alone. His dark secretary is like his shadow. The gossip among the servantsis that their master is terribly afraid of something. 'Sold his soulto the devil in exchange for money, ' says Warner, 'and expects hiscreditor to come up and claim his own. ' Where they came from, or whothey are, nobody has an idea. They are very violent. Twice Hendersonhas lashed at folk with his dog-whip, and only his long purse and heavycompensation have kept him out of the courts. "Well, now, Watson, let us judge the situation by this new information. We may take it that the letter came out of this strange household andwas an invitation to Garcia to carry out some attempt which had alreadybeen planned. Who wrote the note? It was someone within the citadel, and it was a woman. Who then but Miss Burnet, the governess? All ourreasoning seems to point that way. At any rate, we may take it as ahypothesis and see what consequences it would entail. I may add thatMiss Burnet's age and character make it certain that my first idea thatthere might be a love interest in our story is out of the question. "If she wrote the note she was presumably the friend and confederate ofGarcia. What, then, might she be expected to do if she heard of hisdeath? If he met it in some nefarious enterprise her lips might besealed. Still, in her heart, she must retain bitterness and hatredagainst those who had killed him and would presumably help so far asshe could to have revenge upon them. Could we see her, then and try touse her? That was my first thought. But now we come to a sinisterfact. Miss Burnet has not been seen by any human eye since the nightof the murder. From that evening she has utterly vanished. Is shealive? Has she perhaps met her end on the same night as the friendwhom she had summoned? Or is she merely a prisoner? There is the pointwhich we still have to decide. "You will appreciate the difficulty of the situation, Watson. There isnothing upon which we can apply for a warrant. Our whole scheme mightseem fantastic if laid before a magistrate. The woman's disappearancecounts for nothing, since in that extraordinary household any member ofit might be invisible for a week. And yet she may at the presentmoment be in danger of her life. All I can do is to watch the houseand leave my agent, Warner, on guard at the gates. We can't let such asituation continue. If the law can do nothing we must take the riskourselves. " "What do you suggest?" "I know which is her room. It is accessible from the top of anouthouse. My suggestion is that you and I go to-night and see if wecan strike at the very heart of the mystery. " It was not, I must confess, a very alluring prospect. The old housewith its atmosphere of murder, the singular and formidable inhabitants, the unknown dangers of the approach, and the fact that we were puttingourselves legally in a false position all combined to damp my ardour. But there was something in the ice-cold reasoning of Holmes which madeit impossible to shrink from any adventure which he might recommend. One knew that thus, and only thus, could a solution be found. Iclasped his hand in silence, and the die was cast. But it was not destined that our investigation should have soadventurous an ending. It was about five o'clock, and the shadows ofthe March evening were beginning to fall, when an excited rustic rushedinto our room. "They've gone, Mr. Holmes. They went by the last train. The ladybroke away, and I've got her in a cab downstairs. " "Excellent, Warner!" cried Holmes, springing to his feet. "Watson, thegaps are closing rapidly. " In the cab was a woman, half-collapsed from nervous exhaustion. Shebore upon her aquiline and emaciated face the traces of some recenttragedy. Her head hung listlessly upon her breast, but as she raisedit and turned her dull eyes upon us I saw that her pupils were darkdots in the centre of the broad gray iris. She was drugged with opium. "I watched at the gate, same as you advised, Mr. Holmes, " said ouremissary, the discharged gardener. "When the carriage came out Ifollowed it to the station. She was like one walking in her sleep, butwhen they tried to get her into the train she came to life andstruggled. They pushed her into the carriage. She fought her way outagain. I took her part, got her into a cab, and here we are. I shan'tforget the face at the carriage window as I led her away. I'd have ashort life if he had his way--the black-eyed, scowling, yellow devil. " We carried her upstairs, laid her on the sofa, and a couple of cups ofthe strongest coffee soon cleared her brain from the mists of the drug. Baynes had been summoned by Holmes, and the situation rapidly explainedto him. "Why, sir, you've got me the very evidence I want, " said the inspectorwarmly, shaking my friend by the hand. "I was on the same scent as youfrom the first. " "What! You were after Henderson?" "Why, Mr. Holmes, when you were crawling in the shrubbery at High GableI was up one of the trees in the plantation and saw you down below. Itwas just who would get his evidence first. " "Then why did you arrest the mulatto?" Baynes chuckled. "I was sure Henderson, as he calls himself, felt that he was suspected, and that he would lie low and make no move so long as he thought he wasin any danger. I arrested the wrong man to make him believe that oureyes were off him. I knew he would be likely to clear off then andgive us a chance of getting at Miss Burnet. " Holmes laid his hand upon the inspector's shoulder. "You will rise high in your profession. You have instinct andintuition, " said he. Baynes flushed with pleasure. "I've had a plain-clothes man waiting at the station all the week. Wherever the High Gable folk go he will keep them in sight. But hemust have been hard put to it when Miss Burnet broke away. However, your man picked her up, and it all ends well. We can't arrest withouther evidence, that is clear, so the sooner we get a statement thebetter. " "Every minute she gets stronger, " said Holmes, glancing at thegoverness. "But tell me, Baynes, who is this man Henderson?" "Henderson, " the inspector answered, "is Don Murillo, once call theTiger of San Pedro. " The Tiger of San Pedro! The whole history of the man came back to mein a flash. He had made his name as the most lewd and bloodthirstytyrant that had ever governed any country with a pretence tocivilization. Strong, fearless, and energetic, he had sufficientvirtue to enable him to impose his odious vices upon a cowering peoplefor ten or twelve years. His name was a terror through all CentralAmerica. At the end of that time there was a universal rising againsthim. But he was as cunning as he was cruel, and at the first whisperof coming trouble he had secretly conveyed his treasures aboard a shipwhich was manned by devoted adherents. It was an empty palace whichwas stormed by the insurgents next day. The dictator, his twochildren, his secretary, and his wealth had all escaped them. From thatmoment he had vanished from the world, and his identity had been afrequent subject for comment in the European press. "Yes, sir, Don Murillo, the Tiger of San Pedro, " said Baynes. "If youlook it up you will find that the San Pedro colours are green andwhite, same as in the note, Mr. Holmes. Henderson he called himself, but I traced him back, Paris and Rome and Madrid to Barcelona, wherehis ship came in in '86. They've been looking for him all the time fortheir revenge, but it is only now that they have begun to find him out. " "They discovered him a year ago, " said Miss Burnet, who had sat up andwas now intently following the conversation. "Once already his lifehas been attempted, but some evil spirit shielded him. Now, again, itis the noble, chivalrous Garcia who has fallen, while the monster goessafe. But another will come, and yet another, until some day justicewill be done; that is as certain as the rise of to-morrow's sun. " Herthin hands clenched, and her worn face blanched with the passion of herhatred. "But how come you into this matter, Miss Burnet?" asked Holmes. "Howcan an English lady join in such a murderous affair?" "I join in it because there is no other way in the world by whichjustice can be gained. What does the law of England care for therivers of blood shed years ago in San Pedro, or for the shipload oftreasure which this man has stolen? To you they are like crimescommitted in some other planet. But _we_ know. We have learned thetruth in sorrow and in suffering. To us there is no fiend in hell likeJuan Murillo, and no peace in life while his victims still cry forvengeance. " "No doubt, " said Holmes, "he was as you say. I have heard that he wasatrocious. But how are you affected?" "I will tell you it all. This villain's policy was to murder, on onepretext or another, every man who showed such promise that he might intime come to be a dangerous rival. My husband--yes, my real name isSignora Victor Durando--was the San Pedro minister in London. He metme and married me there. A nobler man never lived upon earth. Unhappily, Murillo heard of his excellence, recalled him on somepretext, and had him shot. With a premonition of his fate he hadrefused to take me with him. His estates were confiscated, and I wasleft with a pittance and a broken heart. "Then came the downfall of the tyrant. He escaped as you have justdescribed. But the many whose lives he had ruined, whose nearest anddearest had suffered torture and death at his hands, would not let thematter rest. They banded themselves into a society which should neverbe dissolved until the work was done. It was my part after we haddiscovered in the transformed Henderson the fallen despot, to attachmyself to his household and keep the others in touch with hismovements. This I was able to do by securing the position of governessin his family. He little knew that the woman who faced him at everymeal was the woman whose husband he had hurried at an hour's noticeinto eternity. I smiled on him, did my duty to his children, and bidedmy time. An attempt was made in Paris and failed. We zig-zaggedswiftly here and there over Europe to throw off the pursuers andfinally returned to this house, which he had taken upon his firstarrival in England. "But here also the ministers of justice were waiting. Knowing that hewould return there, Garcia, who is the son of the former highestdignitary in San Pedro, was waiting with two trusty companions ofhumble station, all three fired with the same reasons for revenge. Hecould do little during the day, for Murillo took every precaution andnever went out save with his satellite Lucas, or Lopez as he was knownin the days of his greatness. At night, however, he slept alone, andthe avenger might find him. On a certain evening, which had beenprearranged, I sent my friend final instructions, for the man wasforever on the alert and continually changed his room. I was to seethat the doors were open and the signal of a green or white light in awindow which faced the drive was to give notice if all was safe or ifthe attempt had better be postponed. "But everything went wrong with us. In some way I had excited thesuspicion of Lopez, the secretary. He crept up behind me and sprangupon me just as I had finished the note. He and his master dragged meto my room and held judgment upon me as a convicted traitress. Thenand there they would have plunged their knives into me could they haveseen how to escape the consequences of the deed. Finally, after muchdebate, they concluded that my murder was too dangerous. But theydetermined to get rid forever of Garcia. They had gagged me, andMurillo twisted my arm round until I gave him the address. I swearthat he might have twisted it off had I understood what it would meanto Garcia. Lopez addressed the note which I had written, sealed itwith his sleeve-link, and sent it by the hand of the servant, Jose. How they murdered him I do not know, save that it was Murillo's handwho struck him down, for Lopez had remained to guard me. I believe hemust have waited among the gorse bushes through which the path windsand struck him down as he passed. At first they were of a mind to lethim enter the house and to kill him as a detected burglar; but theyargued that if they were mixed up in an inquiry their own identitywould at once be publicly disclosed and they would be open to furtherattacks. With the death of Garcia, the pursuit might cease, since sucha death might frighten others from the task. "All would now have been well for them had it not been for my knowledgeof what they had done. I have no doubt that there were times when mylife hung in the balance. I was confined to my room, terrorized by themost horrible threats, cruelly ill-used to break my spirit--see thisstab on my shoulder and the bruises from end to end of my arms--and agag was thrust into my mouth on the one occasion when I tried to callfrom the window. For five days this cruel imprisonment continued, withhardly enough food to hold body and soul together. This afternoon agood lunch was brought me, but the moment after I took it I knew that Ihad been drugged. In a sort of dream I remember being half-led, half-carried to the carriage; in the same state I was conveyed to thetrain. Only then, when the wheels were almost moving, did I suddenlyrealize that my liberty lay in my own hands. I sprang out, they triedto drag me back, and had it not been for the help of this good man, wholed me to the cab, I should never had broken away. Now, thank God, Iam beyond their power forever. " We had all listened intently to this remarkable statement. It wasHolmes who broke the silence. "Our difficulties are not over, " he remarked, shaking his head. "Ourpolice work ends, but our legal work begins. " "Exactly, " said I. "A plausible lawyer could make it out as an act ofself-defence. There may be a hundred crimes in the background, but itis only on this one that they can be tried. " "Come, come, " said Baynes cheerily, "I think better of the law thanthat. Self-defence is one thing. To entice a man in cold blood withthe object of murdering him is another, whatever danger you may fearfrom him. No, no, we shall all be justified when we see the tenants ofHigh Gable at the next Guildford Assizes. " * * * It is a matter of history, however, that a little time was still toelapse before the Tiger of San Pedro should meet with his deserts. Wily and bold, he and his companion threw their pursuer off their trackby entering a lodging-house in Edmonton Street and leaving by theback-gate into Curzon Square. From that day they were seen no more inEngland. Some six months afterwards the Marquess of Montalva andSignor Rulli, his secretary, were both murdered in their rooms at theHotel Escurial at Madrid. The crime was ascribed to Nihilism, and themurderers were never arrested. Inspector Baynes visited us at BakerStreet with a printed description of the dark face of the secretary, and of the masterful features, the magnetic black eyes, and the tuftedbrows of his master. We could not doubt that justice, if belated, hadcome at last. "A chaotic case, my dear Watson, " said Holmes over an evening pipe. "Itwill not be possible for you to present in that compact form which isdear to your heart. It covers two continents, concerns two groups ofmysterious persons, and is further complicated by the highlyrespectable presence of our friend, Scott Eccles, whose inclusion showsme that the deceased Garcia had a scheming mind and a well-developedinstinct of self-preservation. It is remarkable only for the fact thatamid a perfect jungle of possibilities we, with our worthycollaborator, the inspector, have kept our close hold on the essentialsand so been guided along the crooked and winding path. Is there anypoint which is not quite clear to you?" "The object of the mulatto cook's return?" "I think that the strange creature in the kitchen may account for it. The man was a primitive savage from the backwoods of San Pedro, andthis was his fetish. When his companion and he had fled to someprearranged retreat--already occupied, no doubt by a confederate--thecompanion had persuaded him to leave so compromising an article offurniture. But the mulatto's heart was with it, and he was driven backto it next day, when, on reconnoitering through the window, he foundpoliceman Walters in possession. He waited three days longer, and thenhis piety or his superstition drove him to try once more. InspectorBaynes, who, with his usual astuteness, had minimized the incidentbefore me, had really recognized its importance and had left a trapinto which the creature walked. Any other point, Watson?" "The torn bird, the pail of blood, the charred bones, all the mysteryof that weird kitchen?" Holmes smiled as he turned up an entry in his note-book. "I spent a morning in the British Museum reading up on that and otherpoints. Here is a quotation from Eckermann's Voodooism and the NegroidReligions: "'The true voodoo-worshipper attempts nothing of importance withoutcertain sacrifices which are intended to propitiate his unclean gods. In extreme cases these rites take the form of human sacrifices followedby cannibalism. The more usual victims are a white cock, which isplucked in pieces alive, or a black goat, whose throat is cut and bodyburned. ' "So you see our savage friend was very orthodox in his ritual. It isgrotesque, Watson, " Holmes added, as he slowly fastened his notebook, "but, as I have had occasion to remark, there is but one step from thegrotesque to the horrible. "