                                 THE CROOKED MAN

     One summer night, a few months after my marriage, I was seated by my
     own hearth smoking a last pipe and nodding over a novel, for my day's
     work had been an exhausting one.  My wife had already gone upstairs,
     and the sound of the locking of the hall door some time before told
     me that the servants had also retired.  I had risen from my seat and
     was knocking out the ashes of my pipe when I suddenly heard the clang
     of the bell.

     I looked at the clock.  It was a quarter to twelve.  This could not
     be a visitor at so late an hour.  A patient, evidently, and possibly
     an all-night sitting.  With a wry face I went out into the hall and
     opened the door.  To my astonishment it was Sherlock Holmes who stood
     upon my step.

     "Ah, Watson," said he, "I hoped that I might not be too late to catch
     you."

     "My dear fellow, pray come in."

     "You look surprised, and no wonder!  Relieved, too, I fancy!  Hum!
     You still smoke the Arcadia mixture of your bachelor days then!
     There's no mistaking that fluffy ash upon your coat.  It's easy to
     tell that you have been accustomed to wear a uniform, Watson.  You'll
     never pass as a pure-bred civilian as long as you keep that habit of
     carrying your handkerchief in your sleeve.  Could you put me up
     tonight?"

     "With pleasure."

     "You told me that you had bachelor quarters for one, and I see that
     you have no gentleman visitor at present.  Your hat-stand proclaims
     as much."

     "I shall be delighted if you will stay."

     "Thank you.  I'll fill the vacant peg then.  Sorry to see that you've
     had the British workman in the house.  He's a token of evil.  Not the
     drains, I hope?"

     "No, the gas."

     "Ah!  He has left two nail-marks from his boot upon your linoleum
     just where the light strikes it.  No, thank you, I had some supper at
     Waterloo, but I'll smoke a pipe with you with pleasure."

     I handed him my pouch, and he seated himself opposite to me and
     smoked for some time in silence.  I was well aware that nothing but
     business of importance would have brought him to me at such an hour,
     so I waited patiently until he should come round to it.

     "I see that you are professionally rather busy just now," said he,
     glancing very keenly across at me.

     "Yes, I've had a busy day," I answered.  "It may seem very foolish in
     your eyes," I added, "but really I don't know how you deduced it."

     Holmes chuckled to himself.

     "I have the advantage of knowing your habits, my dear Watson," said
     he.  "When your round is a short one you walk, and when it is a long
     one you use a hansom.  As I perceive that your boots, although used,
     are by no means dirty, I cannot doubt that you are at present busy
     enough to justify the hansom."

     "Excellent!" I cried.

     "Elementary," said he.  "It is one of those instances where the
     reasoner can produce an effect which seems remarkable to his
     neighbor, because the latter has missed the one little point which is
     the basis of the deduction.  The same may be said, my dear fellow,
     for the effect of some of these little sketches of yours, which is
     entirely meretricious, depending as it does upon your retaining in
     your own hands some factors in the problem which are never imparted
     to the reader.  Now, at present I am in the position of these same
     readers, for I hold in this hand several threads of one of the
     strangest cases which ever perplexed a man's brain, and yet I lack
     the one or two which are needful to complete my theory.  But I'll
     have them, Watson, I'll have them!"  His eyes kindled and a slight
     flush sprang into his thin cheeks. For an instant the veil had lifted
     upon his keen, intense nature, but for an instant only. When I
     glanced again his face had resumed that red-Indian composure which
     had made so many regard him as a machine rather than a man.

     "The problem presents features of interest," said he.  "I may even
     say exceptional features of interest.  I have already looked into the
     matter, and have come, as I think, within sight of my solution.  If
     you could accompany me in that last step you might be of considerable
     service to me."

     "I should be delighted."

     "Could you go as far as Aldershot to-morrow?"

     "I have no doubt Jackson would take my practice."

     "Very good.  I want to start by the 11.10 from Waterloo."

     "That would give me time."

     "Then, if you are not too sleepy, I will give you a sketch of what
     has happened, and of what remains to be done."

     "I was sleepy before you came.  I am quite wakeful now."

     "I will compress the story as far as may be done without omitting
     anything vital to the case.  It is conceivable that you may even have
     read some account of the matter.  It is the supposed murder of
     Colonel Barclay, of the Royal Munsters, at Aldershot, which I am
     investigating."

     "I have heard nothing of it."

     "It has not excited much attention yet, except locally.  The facts
     are only two days old.  Briefly they are these:

     "The Royal Munsters is, as you know, one of the most famous Irish
     regiments in the British army.  It did wonders both in the Crimea and
     the Mutiny, and has since that time distinguished itself upon every
     possible occasion.  It was commanded up to Monday night by James
     Barclay, a gallant veteran, who started as a full private, was raised
     to commissioned rank for his bravery at the time of the Mutiny, and
     so lived to command the regiment in which he had once carried a
     musket.

     "Colonel Barclay had married at the time when he was a sergeant, and
     his wife, whose maiden name was Miss Nancy Devoy, was the daughter of
     a former color-sergeant in the same corps.  There was, therefore, as
     can be imagined, some little social friction when the young couple
     (for they were still young) found themselves in their new
     surroundings.  They appear, however, to have quickly adapted
     themselves, and Mrs. Barclay has always, I understand, been as
     popular with the ladies of the regiment as her husband was with his
     brother officers.  I may add that she was a woman of great beauty,
     and that even now, when she has been married for upwards of thirty
     years, she is still of a striking and queenly appearance.

     "Colonel Barclay's family life appears to have been a uniformly happy
     one.  Major Murphy, to whom I owe most of my facts, assures me that
     he has never heard of any misunderstanding between the pair.  On the
     whole, he thinks that Barclay's devotion to his wife was greater than
     his wife's to Barclay.  He was acutely uneasy if he were absent from
     her for a day.  She, on the other hand, though devoted and faithful,
     was less obtrusively affectionate.  But they were regarded in the
     regiment as the very model of a middle-aged couple.  There was
     absolutely nothing in their mutual relations to prepare people for
     the tragedy which was to follow.

     "Colonel Barclay himself seems to have had some singular traits in
     his character.  He was a dashing, jovial old solder in his usual
     mood, but there were occasions on which he seemed to show himself
     capable of considerable violence and vindictiveness.  This side of
     his nature, however, appears never to have been turned towards his
     wife.  Another fact, which had struck Major Murphy and three out of
     five of the other officers with whom I conversed, was the singular
     sort of depression which came upon him at times.  As the major
     expressed it, the smile had often been struck from his mouth, as if
     by some invisible hand, when he has been joining the gaieties and
     chaff of the mess-table.  For days on end, when the mood was on him,
     he has been sunk in the deepest gloom.  This and a certain tinge of
     superstition were the only unusual traits in his character which his
     brother officers had observed.  The latter peculiarity took the form
     of a dislike to being left alone, especially after dark.  This
     puerile feature in a nature which was conspicuously manly had often
     given rise to comment and conjecture.

     "The first battalion of the Royal Munsters (which is the old 117th)
     has been stationed at Aldershot for some years.  The married officers
     live out of barracks, and the Colonel has during all this time
     occupied a villa called Lachine, about half a mile from the north
     camp.  The house stands in its own grounds, but the west side of it
     is not more than thirty yards from the high-road.  A coachman and two
     maids form the staff of servants.  These with their master and
     mistress were the sole occupants of Lachine, for the Barclays had no
     children, nor was it usual for them to have resident visitors.

     "Now for the events at Lachine between nine and ten on the evening of
     last Monday.

     "Mrs. Barclay was, it appears, a member of the Roman Catholic Church,
     and had interested herself very much in the establishment of the
     Guild of St. George, which was formed in connection with the Watt
     Street Chapel for the purpose of supplying the poor with cast-off
     clothing.  A meeting of the Guild had been held that evening at
     eight, and Mrs. Barclay had hurried over her dinner in order to be
     present at it.  When leaving the house she was heard by the coachman
     to make some commonplace remark to her husband, and to assure him
     that she would be back before very long. She then called for Miss
     Morrison, a young lady who lives in the next villa, and the two went
     off together to their meeting.  It lasted forty minutes, and at a
     quarter-past nine Mrs. Barclay returned home, having left Miss
     Morrison at her door as she passed.

     "There is a room which is used as a morning-room at Lachine.  This
     faces the road and opens by a large glass folding-door on to the
     lawn.  The lawn is thirty yards across, and is only divided from the
     highway by a low wall with an iron rail above it.  It was into this
     room that Mrs. Barclay went upon her return.  The blinds were not
     down, for the room was seldom used in the evening, but Mrs. Barclay
     herself lit the lamp and then rang the bell, asking Jane Stewart, the
     house-maid, to bring her a cup of tea, which was quite contrary to
     her usual habits.  The Colonel had been sitting in the dining-room,
     but hearing that his wife had returned he joined her in the
     morning-room.  The coachman saw him cross the hall and enter it.  He
     was never seen again alive.

     "The tea which had been ordered was brought up at the end of ten
     minutes; but the maid, as she approached the door, was surprised to
     hear the voices of her master and mistress in furious altercation.
     She knocked without receiving any answer, and even turned the handle,
     but only to find that the door was locked upon the inside.  Naturally
     enough she ran down to tell the cook, and the two women with the
     coachman came up into the hall and listened to the dispute which was
     still raging.  They all agreed that only two voices were to be heard,
     those of Barclay and of his wife.  Barclay's remarks were subdued and
     abrupt, so that none of them were audible to the listeners.  The
     lady's, on the other hand, were most bitter, and when she raised her
     voice could be plainly heard.  'You coward!' she repeated over and
     over again.  'What can be done now?  What can be done now?  Give me
     back my life.  I will never so much as breathe the same air with you
     again!  You coward!  You Coward!'  Those were scraps of her
     conversation, ending in a sudden dreadful cry in the man's voice,
     with a crash, and a piercing scream from the woman.  Convinced that
     some tragedy had occurred, the coachman rushed to the door and strove
     to force it, while scream after scream issued from within.  He was
     unable, however, to make his way in, and the maids were too
     distracted with fear to be of any assistance to him.  A sudden
     thought struck him, however, and he ran through the hall door and
     round to the lawn upon which the long French windows open.  One side
     of the window was open, which I understand was quite usual in the
     summer-time, and he passed without difficulty into the room.  His
     mistress had ceased to scream and was stretched insensible upon a
     couch, while with his feet tilted over the side of an arm-chair, and
     his head upon the ground near the corner of the fender, was lying the
     unfortunate soldier stone dead in a pool of his own blood.

     "Naturally, the coachman's first thought, on finding that he could do
     nothing for his master, was to open the door.  But here an unexpected
     and singular difficulty presented itself.  The key was not in the
     inner side of the door, nor could he find it anywhere in the room.
     He went out again, therefore, through the window, and having obtained
     the help of a policeman and of a medical man, he returned.  The lady,
     against whom naturally the strongest suspicion rested, was removed to
     her room, still in a state of insensibility.  The Colonel's body was
     then placed upon the sofa, and a careful examination made of the
     scene of the tragedy.

     "The injury from which the unfortunate veteran was suffering was
     found to be a jagged cut some two inches long at the back part of his
     head, which had evidently been caused by a violent blow from a blunt
     weapon.  Nor was it difficult to guess what that weapon may have
     been.  Upon the floor, close to the body, was lying a singular club
     of hard carved wood with a bone handle.  The Colonel possessed a
     varied collection of weapons brought from the different countries in
     which he had fought, and it is conjectured by the police that his
     club was among his trophies.  The servants deny having seen it
     before, but among the numerous curiosities in the house it is
     possible that it may have been overlooked.  Nothing else of
     importance was discovered in the room by the police, save the
     inexplicable fact that neither upon Mrs. Barclay's person nor upon
     that of the victim nor in any part of the room was the missing key to
     be found.  The door had eventually to be opened by a locksmith from
     Aldershot.

     "That was the state of things, Watson, when upon the Tuesday morning
     I, at the request of Major Murphy, went down to Aldershot to
     supplement the efforts of the police.  I think that you will
     acknowledge that the problem was already one of interest, but my
     observations soon made me realize that it was in truth much more
     extraordinary than would at first sight appear.

     "Before examining the room I cross-questioned the servants, but only
     succeeded in eliciting the facts which I have already stated.  One
     other detail of interest was remembered by Jane Stewart, the
     housemaid.  You will remember that on hearing the sound of the
     quarrel she descended and returned with the other servants.  On that
     first occasion, when she was alone, she says that the voices of her
     master and mistress were sunk so low that she could hear hardly
     anything, and judged by their tones rather than their words that they
     had fallen out.  On my pressing her, however, she remembered that she
     heard the word David uttered twice by the lady.  The point is of the
     utmost importance as guiding us towards the reason of the sudden
     quarrel.  The Colonel's name, you remember, was James.

     "There was one thing in the case which had made the deepest
     impression both upon the servants and the police.  This was the
     contortion of the Colonel's face.  It had set, according to their
     account, into the most dreadful expression of fear and horror which a
     human countenance is capable of assuming.  More than one person
     fainted at the mere sight of him, so terrible was the effect.  It was
     quite certain that he had foreseen his fate, and that it had caused
     him the utmost horror.  This, of course, fitted in well enough with
     the police theory, if the Colonel could have seen his wife making a
     murderous attack upon him.  Nor was the fact of the wound being on
     the back of his head a fatal objection to this, as he might have
     turned to avoid the blow.  No information could be got from the lady
     herself, who was temporarily insane from an acute attack of
     brain-fever.

     "From the police I learned that Miss Morrison, who you remember went
     out that evening with Mrs. Barclay, denied having any knowledge of
     what it was which had caused the ill-humor in which her companion had
     returned.

     "Having gathered these facts, Watson, I smoked several pipes over
     them, trying to separate those which were crucial from others which
     were merely incidental.  There could be no question that the most
     distinctive and suggestive point in the case was the singular
     disappearance of the door-key.  A most careful search had failed to
     discover it in the room.  Therefore it must have been taken from it.
     But neither the Colonel nor the Colonel's wife could have taken it.
     That was perfectly clear.  Therefore a third person must have entered
     the room.  And that third person could only have come in through the
     window.  It seemed to me that a careful examination of the room and
     the lawn might possibly reveal some traces of this mysterious
     individual.  You know my methods, Watson.  There was not one of them
     which I did not apply to the inquiry.  And it ended by my discovering
     traces, but very different ones from those which I had expected.
     There had been a man in the room, and he had crossed the lawn coming
     from the road.  I was able to obtain five very clear impressions of
     his foot-marks:  one in the roadway itself, at the point where he had
     climbed the low wall, two on the lawn, and two very faint ones upon
     the stained boards near the window where he had entered.  He had
     apparently rushed across the lawn, for his toe-marks were much deeper
     than his heels.  But it was not the man who surprised me.  It was his
     companion."

     "His companion!"

     Holmes pulled a large sheet of tissue-paper out of his pocket and
     carefully unfolded it upon his knee.

     "What do you make of that?" he asked.

     The paper was covered with the tracings of the foot-marks of some
     small animal.  It had five well-marked foot-pads, an indication of
     long nails, and the whole print might be nearly as large as  a
     dessert-spoon.

     "It's a dog," said I.

     "Did you ever hear of a dog running up a curtain?  I found distinct
     traces that this creature had done so."

     "A monkey, then?"

     "But it is not the print of a monkey."

     "What can it be, then?"

     "Neither dog nor cat nor monkey nor any creature that we are familiar
     with.  I have tried to reconstruct it from the measurements.  Here
     are four prints where the beast has been standing motionless.  You
     see that it is no less than fifteen inches from fore-foot to hind.
     Add to that the length of neck and head, and you get a creature not
     much less than two feet long--probably more if there is any tail.
     But now observe this other measurement.  The animal has been moving,
     and we have the length of its stride.  In each case it is only about
     three inches.  You have an indication, you see, of a long body with
     very short legs attached to it.  It has not been considerate enough
     to leave any of its hair behind it.  But its general shape must be
     what I have indicated, and it can run up a curtain, and it is
     carnivorous."

     "How do you deduce that?"

     "Because it ran up the curtain.  A canary's cage was hanging in the
     window, and its aim seems to have been to get at the bird."

     "Then what was the beast?"

     "Ah, if I could give it a name it might go a long way towards solving
     the case.  On the whole, it was probably some creature of the weasel
     and stoat tribe--and yet it is larger than any of these that I have
     seen."

     "But what had it to do with the crime?"

     "That, also, is still obscure.  But we have learned a good deal, you
     perceive.  We know that a man stood in the road looking at the
     quarrel between the Barclays--the blinds were up and the room
     lighted.  We know, also, that he ran across the lawn, entered the
     room, accompanied by a strange animal, and that he either struck the
     Colonel or, as is equally possible, that the Colonel fell down from
     sheer fright at the sight of him, and cut his head on the corner of
     the fender.  Finally, we have the curious fact that the intruder
     carried away the key with him when he left."

     "Your discoveries seem to have left the business more obscure that it
     was before," said I.

     "Quite so.  They undoubtedly showed that the affair was much deeper
     than was at first conjectured.  I thought the matter over, and I came
     to the conclusion that I must approach the case from another aspect.
     But really, Watson, I am keeping you up, and I might just as well
     tell you all this on our way to Aldershot to-morrow."

     "Thank you, you have gone rather too far to stop."

     "It is quite certain that when Mrs. Barclay left the house at
     half-past seven she was on good terms with her husband.  She was
     never, as I think I have said, ostentatiously affectionate, but she
     was heard by the coachman chatting with the Colonel in a friendly
     fashion.  Now, it was equally certain that, immediately on her
     return, she had gone to the room in which she was least likely to see
     her husband, had flown to tea as an agitated woman will, and finally,
     on his coming in to her, had broken into violent recriminations.
     Therefore something had occurred between seven-thirty and nine
     o'clock which had completely altered her feelings towards him.  But
     Miss Morrison had been with her during the whole of that hour and a
     half.  It was absolutely certain, therefore, in spite of her denial,
     that she must know something of the matter.

     "My first conjecture was, that possibly there had been some passages
     between this young lady and the old soldier, which the former had now
     confessed to the wife.  That would account for the angry return, and
     also for the girl's denial that anything had occurred.  Nor would it
     be entirely incompatible with most of the words overhead.  But there
     was the reference to David, and there was the known affection of the
     Colonel for his wife, to weigh against it, to say nothing of the
     tragic intrusion of this other man, which might, of course, be
     entirely disconnected with what had gone before.  It was not easy to
     pick one's steps, but, on the whole, I was inclined to dismiss the
     idea that there had been anything between the Colonel and Miss
     Morrison, but more than ever convinced that the young lady held the
     clue as to what it was which had turned Mrs. Barclay to hatred of her
     husband.  I took the obvious course, therefore, of calling upon Miss
     M., of explaining to her that I was perfectly certain that she held
     the facts in her possession, and of assuring her that her friend,
     Mrs. Barclay, might find herself in the dock upon a capital charge
     unless the matter were cleared up.

     "Miss Morrison is a little ethereal slip of a girl, with timid eyes
     and blond hair, but I found her by no means wanting in shrewdness and
     common-sense.  She sat thinking for some time after I had spoken, and
     then, turning to me with a brisk air of resolution, she broke into a
     remarkable statement which I will condense for your benefit.

     "'I promised my friend that I would say nothing of the matter, and a
     promise is a promise,' said she; 'but if I can really help her when
     so serious a charge is laid against her, and when her own mouth, poor
     darling, is closed by illness, then I think I am absolved from my
     promise.  I will tell you exactly what happened upon Monday evening.

     "'We were returning from the Watt Street Mission about a quarter to
     nine o'clock.  On our way we had to pass through Hudson Street, which
     is a very quiet thoroughfare.  There is only one lamp in it, upon the
     left-hand side, and as we approached this lamp I saw a man coming
     towards us with is back very bent, and something like a box slung
     over one of his shoulders.  He appeared to be deformed, for he
     carried his head low and walked with his knees bent.  We were passing
     him when he raised his face to look at us in the circle of light
     thrown by the lamp, and as he did so he stopped and screamed out in a
     dreadful voice, "My God, it's Nancy!"  Mrs. Barclay turned as white
     as death, and would have fallen down had the dreadful-looking
     creature not caught hold of her.  I was going to call for the police,
     but she, to my surprise, spoke quite civilly to the fellow.

     "'"I thought you had been dead this thirty years, Henry," said she,
     in a shaking voice.

     "'"So I have," said he, and it was awful to hear the tones that he
     said it in.  He had a very dark, fearsome face, and a gleam in his
     eyes that comes back to me in my dreams.  His hair and whiskers were
     shot with gray, and his face was all crinkled and puckered like a
     withered apple.

     "'"Just walk on a little way, dear," said Mrs. Barclay; "I want to
     have a word with this man.  There is nothing to be afraid of."  She
     tried to speak boldly, but she was still deadly pale and could hardly
     get her words out for the trembling of her lips.

     "'I did as she asked me, and they talked together for a few minutes.
     Then she came down the street with her eyes blazing, and I saw the
     crippled wretch standing by the lamp-post and shaking his clenched
     fists in the air as if he were mad with rage.  She never said a word
     until we were at the door here, when she took me by the hand and
     begged me to tell no one what had happened.

     "'"It's an old acquaintance of mine who has come down in the world,"
     said she.  When I promised her I would say nothing she kissed me, and
     I have never seen her since.  I have told you now the whole truth,
     and if I withheld it from the police it is because I did not realize
     then the danger in which my dear friend stood.  I know that it can
     only be to her advantage that everything should be known.'

     "There was her statement, Watson, and to me, as you can imagine, it
     was like a light on a dark night.  Everything which had been
     disconnected before began at once to assume its true place, and I had
     a shadowy presentiment of the whole sequence of events.  My next step
     obviously was to find the man who had produced such a remarkable
     impression upon Mrs. Barclay.  If he were still in Aldershot it
     should not be a very difficult matter.  There are not such a very
     great number of civilians, and a deformed man was sure to have
     attracted attention.  I spent a day in the search, and by
     evening--this very evening, Watson--I had run him down.  The man's
     name is Henry Wood, and he lives in lodgings in this same street in
     which the ladies met him.  He has only been five days in the place.
     In the character of a registration-agent I had a most interesting
     gossip with his landlady.  The man is by trade a conjurer and
     performer, going round the canteens after nightfall, and giving a
     little entertainment at each.  He carries some creature about with
     him in that box; about which the landlady seemed to be in
     considerable trepidation, for she had never seen an animal like it.
     He uses it in some of his tricks according to her account.  So much
     the woman was able to tell me, and also that it was a wonder the man
     lived, seeing how twisted he was, and that he spoke in a strange
     tongue sometimes, and that for the last two nights she had heard him
     groaning and weeping in his bedroom.  He was all right, as far as
     money went, but in his deposit he had given her what looked like a
     bad florin.  She showed it to me, Watson, and it was an Indian rupee.

     "So now, my dear fellow, you see exactly how we stand and why it is I
     want you.  It is perfectly plain that after the ladies parted from
     this man he followed them at a distance, that he saw the quarrel
     between husband and wife through the window, that he rushed in, and
     that the creature which he carried in his box got loose.  That is all
     very certain.  But he is the only person in this world who can tell
     us exactly what happened in that room."

     "And you intend to ask him?"

     "Most certainly--but in the presence of a witness."

     "And I am the witness?"

     "If you will be so good.  If he can clear the matter up, well and
     good.  If he refuses, we have no alternative but to apply for a
     warrant."

     "But how do you know he'll be there when we return?"

     "You may be sure that I took some precautions.  I have one of my
     Baker Street boys mounting guard over him who would stick to him like
     a burr, go where he might.  We shall find him in Hudson Street
     to-morrow, Watson, and meanwhile I should be the criminal myself if I
     kept you out of bed any longer."

     It was midday when we found ourselves at the scene of the tragedy,
     and, under my companion's guidance, we made our way at once to Hudson
     Street.  In spite of his capacity for concealing his emotions, I
     could easily see that Holmes was in a state of suppressed excitement,
     while I was myself tingling with that half-sporting,
     half-intellectual pleasure which I invariably experienced when I
     associated myself with him in his investigations.

     "This is the street," said he, as we turned into a short thoroughfare
     lined with plain two-storied brick houses.  "Ah, here is Simpson to
     report."

     "He's in all right, Mr. Holmes," cried a small street Arab, running
     up to us.

     "Good, Simpson!" said Holmes, patting him on the head.  "Come along,
     Watson.  This is the house."  He sent in his card with a message that
     he had come on important business, and a moment later we were face to
     face with the man whom we had come to see.  In spite of the warm
     weather he was crouching over a fire, and the little room was like an
     oven.  The man sat all twisted and huddled in his chair in a way
     which gave an indescribably impression of deformity; but the face
     which he turned towards us, though worn and swarthy, must at some
     time have been remarkable for its beauty.  He looked suspiciously at
     us now out of yellow-shot, bilious eyes, and, without speaking or
     rising, he waved towards two chairs.

     "Mr. Henry Wood, late of India, I believe," said Holmes, affably.
     "I've come over this little matter of Colonel Barclay's death."

     "What should I know about that?"

     "That's what I want to ascertain.  You know, I suppose, that unless
     the matter is cleared up, Mrs. Barclay, who is an old friend of
     yours, will in all probability be tried for murder."

     The man gave a violent start.

     "I don't know who you are," he cried, "nor how you come to know what
     you do know, but will you swear that this is true that you tell me?"

     "Why, they are only waiting for her to come to her senses to arrest
     her."

     "My God!  Are you in the police yourself?"

     "No."

     "What business is it of yours, then?"

     "It's every man's business to see justice done."

     "You can take my word that she is innocent."

     "Then you are guilty."

     "No, I am not."

     "Who killed Colonel James Barclay, then?"

     "It was a just providence that killed him.  But, mind you this, that
     if I had knocked his brains out, as it was in my heart to do, he
     would have had no more than his due from my hands.  If his own guilty
     conscience had not struck him down it is likely enough that I might
     have had his blood upon my soul.  You want me to tell the story.
     Well, I don't know why I shouldn't, for there's no cause for me to be
     ashamed of it.

     "It was in this way, sir.  You see me now with my back like a camel
     and by ribs all awry, but there was a time when Corporal Henry Wood
     was the smartest man in the 117th foot.  We were in India then, in
     cantonments, at a place we'll call Bhurtee.  Barclay, who died the
     other day, was sergeant in the same company as myself, and the belle
     of the regiment, ay, and the finest girl that ever had the breath of
     life between her lips, was Nancy Devoy, the daughter of the
     color-sergeant.  There were two men that loved her, and one that she
     loved, and you'll smile when you look at this poor thing huddled
     before the fire, and hear me say that it was for my good looks that
     she loved me.

     "Well, though I had her heart, her father was set upon her marrying
     Barclay.  I was a harum-scarum, reckless lad, and he had had an
     education, and was already marked for the sword-belt.  But the girl
     held true to me, and it seemed that I would have had her when the
     Mutiny broke out, and all hell was loose in the country.

     "We were shut up in Bhurtee, the regiment of us with half a battery
     of artillery, a company of Sikhs, and a lot of civilians and
     women-folk.  There were ten thousand rebels round us, and they were
     as keen as a set of terriers round a rat-cage.  About the second week
     of it our water gave out, and it was a question whether we could
     communicate with General Neill's column, which was moving up country.
      It was our only chance, for we could not hope to fight our way out
     with all the women and children, so I volunteered to go out and to
     warn General Neill of our danger.  My offer was accepted, and I
     talked it over with Sergeant Barclay, who was supposed to know the
     ground better than any other man, and who drew up a route by which I
     might get through the rebel lines.  At ten o'clock the same night I
     started off upon my journey.  There were a thousand lives to save,
     but it was of only one that I was thinking when I dropped over the
     wall that night.

     "My way ran down a dried-up watercourse, which we hoped would screen
     me from the enemy's sentries; but as I crept round the corner of it I
     walked right into six of them, who were crouching down in the dark
     waiting for me.  In an instant I was stunned with a blow and bound
     hand and foot.  But the real blow was to my heart and not to my head,
     for as I came to and listened to as much as I could understand of
     their talk, I heard enough to tell me that my comrade, the very man
     who had arranged the way that I was to take, had betrayed me by means
     of a native servant into the hands of the enemy.

     "Well, there's no need for me to dwell on that part of it.  You know
     now what James Barclay was capable of.  Bhurtee was relieved by Neill
     next day, but the rebels took me away with them in their retreat, and
     it was many a long year before ever I saw a white face again.  I was
     tortured and tried to get away, and was captured and tortured again.
     You can see for yourselves the state in which I was left.  Some of
     them that fled into Nepal took me with them, and then afterwards I
     was up past Darjeeling.  The hill-folk up there murdered the rebels
     who had me, and I became their slave for a time until I escaped; but
     instead of going south I had to go north, until I found myself among
     the Afghans.  There I wandered about for many a year, and at last
     came back to the Punjaub, where I lived mostly among the natives and
     picked up a living by the conjuring tricks that I had learned.  What
     use was it for me, a wretched cripple, to go back to England or to
     make myself known to my old comrades?  Even my wish for revenge would
     not make me do that.  I had rather that Nancy and my old pals should
     think of Harry Wood as having died with a straight back, than see him
     living and crawling with a stick like a chimpanzee.  They never
     doubted that I was dead, and I meant that they never should.  I heard
     that Barclay had married Nancy, and that he was rising rapidly in the
     regiment, but even that did not make me speak.

     "But when one gets old one has a longing for home.  For years I've
     been dreaming of the bright green fields and the hedges of England.
     At last I determined to see them before I died.  I saved enough to
     bring me across, and then I came here where the soldiers are, for I
     know their ways and how to amuse them and so earn enough to keep me."

     "Your narrative is most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes.  "I have
     already heard of your meeting with Mrs. Barclay, and your mutual
     recognition.  You then, as I understand, followed her home and saw
     through the window an altercation between her husband and her, in
     which she doubtless cast his conduct to you in his teeth.  Your own
     feelings overcame you, and you ran across the lawn and broke in upon
     them."

     "I did, sir, and at the sight of me he looked as I have never seen a
     man look before, and over he went with his head on the fender.  But
     he was dead before he fell.  I read death on his face as plain as I
     can read that text over the fire.  The bare sight of me was like a
     bullet through his guilty heart."

     "And then?"

     "Then Nancy fainted, and I caught up the key of the door from her
     hand, intending to unlock it and get help.  But as I was doing it it
     seemed to me better to leave it alone and get away, for the thing
     might look black against me, and any way my secret would be out if I
     were taken.  In my haste I thrust the key into my pocket, and dropped
     my stick while I was chasing Teddy, who had run up the curtain.  When
     I got him into his box, from which he had slipped, I was off as fast
     as I could run."

     "Who's Teddy?" asked Holmes.

     The man leaned over and pulled up the front of a kind of hutch in the
     corner.  In an instant out there slipped a beautiful reddish-brown
     creature, thin and lithe, with the legs of a stoat, a long, thin
     nose, and a pair of the finest red eyes that ever I saw in an
     animal's head.

     "It's a mongoose," I cried.

     "Well, some call them that, and some call them ichneumon," said the
     man.  "Snake-catcher is what I call them, and Teddy is amazing quick
     on cobras.  I have one here without the fangs, and Teddy catches it
     every night to please the folk in the canteen.

     "Any other point, sir?"

     "Well, we may have to apply to you again if Mrs. Barclay should prove
     to be in serious trouble."

     "In that case, of course, I'd come forward."

     "But if not, there is no object in raking up this scandal against a
     dead man, foully as he has acted.  You have at least the satisfaction
     of knowing that for thirty years of his life his conscience bitterly
     reproached him for this wicked deed.  Ah, there goes Major Murphy on
     the other side of the street.  Good-bye, Wood.  I want to learn if
     anything has happened since yesterday."

     We were in time to overtake the major before he reached the corner.

     "Ah, Holmes," he said:  "I suppose you have heard that all this fuss
     has come to nothing?"

     "What then?"

     "The inquest is just over.  The medical evidence showed conclusively
     that death was due to apoplexy.  You see it was quite a simple case
     after all."

     "Oh, remarkably superficial," said Holmes, smiling.  "Come, Watson, I
     don't think we shall be wanted in Aldershot any more."

     "There's one thing," said I, as we walked down to the station.  "If
     the husband's name was James, and the other was Henry, what was this
     talk about David?"

     "That one word, my dear Watson, should have told me the whole story
     had I been the ideal reasoner which you are so fond of depicting.  It
     was evidently a term of reproach."

     "Of reproach?"

     "Yes; David strayed a little occasionally, you know, and on one
     occasion in the same direction as Sergeant James Barclay.  You
     remember the small affair of Uriah and Bathsheba?  My biblical
     knowledge is a trifle rusty, I fear, but you will find the story in
     the first or second of Samuel."
