VI.THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP

blingsofthesesots,asIhavedonebeforenow.HadIbeenrecognisedinthatdenmylifewouldnothavebeenworthanhour’spurchaseforIhaveuseditbeforenowformyownpurposes,andtherascallyLascarwhorunsithassworntohavevengeanceuponme.Thereisatrap-dooratthebackofthatbuilding,nearthecornerofPaul’sWharf,whichcouldtellsomestrangetalesofwhathaspassedthroughituponthemoonlessnights.” “What!Youdonotmeanbodies?” “Ay,bodies,Watson.Weshouldberichmenifwehad￡1000foreverypoordevilwhohasbeendonetodeathinthatden.Itisthevilestmurder-traponthewholeriverside,andIfearthatNevilleSt.Clairhasentereditnevertoleaveitmore.Butourtrapshouldbehere.”Heputhistwoforefingersbetweenhisteethandwhistledshrilly—asignalwhichwasansweredbyasimilarwhistlefromthedistance,followedshortlybytherattleofwheelsandtheclinkofhorses’hoofs. “Now,Watson,”saidHolmes,asatalldog-cartdashedupthroughthegloom,throwingouttwogoldentunnelsofyellowlightfromitssidelanterns.“You’llcomewithme,won’tyou?” “IfIcanbeofuse.” “Oh,atrustycomradeisalwaysofuseandachroniclerstillmoreso.MyroomatTheCedarsisadouble-beddedone.” “TheCedars?” “YesthatisMr.St.Clair’shouse.IamstayingtherewhileIconducttheinquiry.” “Whereisit,then?” “NearLee,inKent.Wehaveaseven-miledrivebeforeus.” “ButIamallinthedark.” “Ofcourseyouare.You’llknowallaboutitpresently.Jumpuphere.Allright,Johnweshallnotneedyou.Here’shalfacrown.Lookoutformeto-morrow,abouteleven.Giveherherhead.Solong,then!” Heflickedthehorsewithhiswhip,andwedashedawaythroughtheendlesssuccessionofsombreanddesertedstreets,whichwidenedgradually,untilwewereflyingacrossabroadbalustradedbridge,withthemurkyriverflowingsluggishlybeneathus.Beyondlayanotherdullwildernessofbricksandmortar,itssilencebrokenonlybytheheavy,regularfootfallofthepoliceman,orthesongsandshoutsofsomebelatedpartyofrevellers.Adullwrackwasdriftingslowlyacrossthesky,andastarortwotwinkleddimlyhereandtherethroughtheriftsoftheclouds.Holmesdroveinsilence,withhisheadsunkuponhisbreast,andtheairofamanwhoislostinthought,whileIsatbesidehim,curioustolearnwhatthisnewquestmightbewhichseemedtotaxhispowerssosorely,andyetafraidtobreakinuponthecurrentofhisthoughts.Wehaddrivenseveralmiles,andwerebeginningtogettothefringeofthebeltofsuburbanvillas,whenheshookhimself,shruggedhisshoulders,andlituphispipewiththeairofamanwhohassatisfiedhimselfthatheisactingforthebest. “Youhaveagrandgiftofsilence,Watson,”saidhe.“Itmakesyouquiteinvaluableasacompanion.’Ponmyword,itisagreatthingformetohavesomeonetotalkto,formyownthoughtsarenotover-pleasant.IwaswonderingwhatIshouldsaytothisdearlittlewomanto-nightwhenshemeetsmeatthedoor.” “YouforgetthatIknownothingaboutit.” “IshalljusthavetimetotellyouthefactsofthecasebeforewegettoLee.Itseemsabsurdlysimple,andyet,somehowIcangetnothingtogoupon.There’splentyofthread,nodoubt,butIcan’tgettheendofitintomyhand.Now,I’llstatethecaseclearlyandconciselytoyou,Watson,andmaybeyoucanseeasparkwhereallisdarktome.” “Proceed,then.” “Someyearsago—tobedefinite,inMay,1884—therecametoLeeagentleman,NevilleSt.Clairbyname,whoappearedtohaveplentyofmoney.Hetookalargevilla,laidoutthegroundsverynicely,andlivedgenerallyingoodstyle.Bydegreeshemadefriendsintheneighbourhood,andin1887hemarriedthedaughterofalocalbrewer,bywhomhenowhastwochildren.Hehadnooccupation,butwasinterestedinseveralcompaniesandwentintotownasaruleinthemorning,returningbythe5:14fromCannonStreeteverynight.Mr.St.Clairisnowthirty-sevenyearsofage,isamanoftemperatehabits,agoodhusband,averyaffectionatefather,andamanwhoispopularwithallwhoknowhim.Imayaddthathiswholedebtsatthepresentmoment,asfaraswehavebeenabletoascertain,amountto￡8810s.,whilehehas￡220standingtohiscreditintheCapitalandCountiesBank.Thereisnoreason,therefore,tothinkthatmoneytroubleshavebeenweighinguponhismind. “LastMondayMr.NevilleSt.Clairwentintotownratherearlierthanusual,remarkingbeforehestartedthathehadtwoimportantcommissionstoperform,andthathewouldbringhislittleboyhomeaboxofbricks.Now,bythemerestchance,hiswifereceivedatelegramuponthissameMonday,veryshortlyafterhisdeparture,totheeffectthatasmallparcelofconsiderablevaluewhichshehadbeenexpectingwaswaitingforherattheofficesoftheAberdeenShippingCompany.Now,ifyouarewellupinyourLondon,youwillknowthattheofficeofthecompanyisinFresnoStreet,whichbranchesoutofUpperSwandamLane,whereyoufoundmeto-night.Mrs.St.Clairhadherlunch,startedfortheCity,didsomeshopping,proceededtothecompany’soffice,gotherpacket,andfoundherselfatexactly4:35walkingthroughSwandamLaneonherwaybacktothestation.Haveyoufollowedmesofar?” “Itisveryclear.” “Ifyouremember,Mondaywasanexceedinglyhotday,andMrs.St.Clairwalkedslowly,glancingaboutinthehopeofseeingacab,asshedidnotliketheneighbourhoodinwhichshefoundherself.WhileshewaswalkinginthiswaydownSwandamLane,shesuddenlyheardanejaculationorcry,andwasstruckcoldtoseeherhusbandlookingdownatherand,asitseemedtoher,beckoningtoherfromasecond-floorwindow.Thewindowwasopen,andshedistinctlysawhisface,whichshedescribesasbeingterriblyagitated.Hewavedhishandsfranticallytoher,andthenvanishedfromthewindowsosuddenlythatitseemedtoherthathehadbeenpluckedbackbysomeirresistibleforcefrombehind.Onesingularpointwhichstruckherquickfeminineeyewasthatalthoughheworesomedarkcoat,suchashehadstartedtotownin,hehadonneithercollarnornecktie. “Convincedthatsomethingwasamisswithhim,sherusheddownthesteps—forthehousewasnoneotherthantheopiumdeninwhichyoufoundmeto-night—andrunningthroughthefrontroomsheattemptedtoascendthestairswhichledtothefirstfloor.Atthefootofthestairs,however,shemetthisLascarscoundrelofwhomIhavespoken,whothrustherbackand,aidedbyaDane,whoactsasassistantthere,pushedheroutintothestreet.Filledwiththemostmaddeningdoubtsandfears,sherusheddownthelaneand,byraregood-fortune,metinFresnoStreetanumberofconstableswithaninspector,allontheirwaytotheirbeat.Theinspectorandtwomenaccompaniedherback,andinspiteofthecontinuedresistanceoftheproprietor,theymadetheirwaytotheroominwhichMr.St.Clairhadlastbeenseen.Therewasnosignofhimthere.Infact,inthewholeofthatfloortherewasnoonetobefoundsaveacrippledwretchofhideousaspect,who,itseems,madehishomethere.BothheandtheLascarstoutlysworethatnooneelsehadbeeninthefrontroomduringtheafternoon.Sodeterminedwastheirdenialthattheinspectorwasstaggered,andhadalmostcometobelievethatMrs.St.Clairhadbeendeludedwhen,withacry,shesprangatasmalldealboxwhichlayuponthetableandtorethelidfromit.Outtherefellacascadeofchildren’sbricks.Itwasthetoywhichhehadpromisedtobringhome. “Thisdiscovery,andtheevidentconfusionwhichthecrippleshowed,madetheinspectorrealisethatthematterwasserious.Theroomswerecarefullyexamined,andresultsallpointedtoanabominablecrime.Thefrontroomwasplainlyfurnishedasasitting-roomandledintoasmallbedroom,whichlookedoutuponthebackofoneofthewharves.Betweenthewharfandthebedroomwindowisanarrowstrip,whichisdryatlowtidebutiscoveredathightidewithatleastfourandahalffeetofwater.Thebedroomwindowwasabroadoneandopenedfrombelow.Onexaminationtracesofbloodweretobeseenuponthewindowsill,andseveralscattereddropswerevisibleuponthewoodenfloorofthebedroom.ThrustawaybehindacurtaininthefrontroomwerealltheclothesofMr.NevilleSt.Clair,withtheexceptionofhiscoat.Hisboots,hissocks,hishat,andhiswatch—allwerethere.Therewerenosignsofviolenceuponanyofthesegarments,andtherewerenoothertracesofMr.NevilleSt.Clair.Outofthewindowhemustapparentlyhavegonefornootherexitcouldbediscovered,andtheominousbloodstainsuponthesillgavelittlepromisethathecouldsavehimselfbyswimming,forthetidewasatitsveryhighestatthemomentofthetragedy. “Andnowastothevillainswhoseemedtobeimmediatelyimplicatedinthematter.TheLascarwasknowntobeamanofthevilestantecedents,butas,byMrs.St.Clair’sstory,hewasknowntohavebeenatthefootofthestairwithinaveryfewsecondsofherhusband’sappearanceatthewindow,hecouldhardlyhavebeenmorethananaccessorytothecrime.Hisdefencewasoneofabsoluteignorance,andheprotestedthathehadnoknowledgeastothedoingsofHughBoone,hislodger,andthathecouldnotaccountinanywayforthepresenceofthemissinggentleman’sclothes. “SomuchfortheLascarmanager.Nowforthesinistercripplewholivesuponthesecondflooroftheopiumden,andwhowascertainlythelasthumanbeingwhoseeyesresteduponNevilleSt.Clair.HisnameisHughBoone,andhishideousfaceisonewhichisfamiliartoeve