VI.THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP

rymanwhogoesmuchtotheCity.Heisaprofessionalbeggar,thoughinordertoavoidthepoliceregulationshepretendstoasmalltradeinwaxvestas.SomelittledistancedownThreadneedleStreet,upontheleft-handside,thereis,asyoumayhaveremarked,asmallangleinthewall.Hereitisthatthiscreaturetakeshisdailyseat,cross-leggedwithhistinystockofmatchesonhislap,andasheisapiteousspectacleasmallrainofcharitydescendsintothegreasyleathercapwhichliesuponthepavementbesidehim.IhavewatchedthefellowmorethanoncebeforeeverIthoughtofmakinghisprofessionalacquaintance,andIhavebeensurprisedattheharvestwhichhehasreapedinashorttime.Hisappearance,yousee,issoremarkablethatnoonecanpasshimwithoutobservinghim.Ashockoforangehair,apalefacedisfiguredbyahorriblescar,which,byitscontraction,hasturneduptheouteredgeofhisupperlip,abulldogchin,andapairofverypenetratingdarkeyes,whichpresentasingularcontrasttothecolourofhishair,allmarkhimoutfromamidthecommoncrowdofmendicantsandso,too,doeshiswit,forheiseverreadywithareplytoanypieceofchaffwhichmaybethrownathimbythepassers-by.Thisisthemanwhomwenowlearntohavebeenthelodgerattheopiumden,andtohavebeenthelastmantoseethegentlemanofwhomweareinquest.” “Butacripple!”saidI.“Whatcouldhehavedonesingle-handedagainstamanintheprimeoflife?” “Heisacrippleinthesensethathewalkswithalimpbutinotherrespectsheappearstobeapowerfulandwell-nurturedman.Surelyyourmedicalexperiencewouldtellyou,Watson,thatweaknessinonelimbisoftencompensatedforbyexceptionalstrengthintheothers.” “Praycontinueyournarrative.” “Mrs.St.Clairhadfaintedatthesightoftheblooduponthewindow,andshewasescortedhomeinacabbythepolice,asherpresencecouldbeofnohelptothemintheirinvestigations.InspectorBarton,whohadchargeofthecase,madeaverycarefulexaminationofthepremises,butwithoutfindinganythingwhichthrewanylightuponthematter.OnemistakehadbeenmadeinnotarrestingBooneinstantly,ashewasallowedsomefewminutesduringwhichhemighthavecommunicatedwithhisfriendtheLascar,butthisfaultwassoonremedied,andhewasseizedandsearched,withoutanythingbeingfoundwhichcouldincriminatehim.Therewere,itistrue,someblood-stainsuponhisrightshirt-sleeve,buthepointedtohisring-finger,whichhadbeencutnearthenail,andexplainedthatthebleedingcamefromthere,addingthathehadbeentothewindownotlongbefore,andthatthestainswhichhadbeenobservedtherecamedoubtlessfromthesamesource.HedeniedstrenuouslyhavingeverseenMr.NevilleSt.Clairandsworethatthepresenceoftheclothesinhisroomwasasmuchamysterytohimastothepolice.AstoMrs.St.Clair’sassertionthatshehadactuallyseenherhusbandatthewindow,hedeclaredthatshemusthavebeeneithermadordreaming.Hewasremoved,loudlyprotesting,tothepolice-station,whiletheinspectorremaineduponthepremisesinthehopethattheebbingtidemightaffordsomefreshclue. “Anditdid,thoughtheyhardlyfounduponthemud-bankwhattheyhadfearedtofind.ItwasNevilleSt.Clair’scoat,andnotNevilleSt.Clair,whichlayuncoveredasthetidereceded.Andwhatdoyouthinktheyfoundinthepockets?” “Icannotimagine.” “No,Idon’tthinkyouwouldguess.Everypocketstuffedwithpenniesandhalf-pennies—421penniesand270half-pennies.Itwasnowonderthatithadnotbeensweptawaybythetide.Butahumanbodyisadifferentmatter.Thereisafierceeddybetweenthewharfandthehouse.Itseemedlikelyenoughthattheweightedcoathadremainedwhenthestrippedbodyhadbeensuckedawayintotheriver.” “ButIunderstandthatalltheotherclotheswerefoundintheroom.Wouldthebodybedressedinacoatalone?” “No,sir,butthefactsmightbemetspeciouslyenough.SupposethatthismanBoonehadthrustNevilleSt.Clairthroughthewindow,thereisnohumaneyewhichcouldhaveseenthedeed.Whatwouldhedothen?Itwouldofcourseinstantlystrikehimthathemustgetridofthetell-talegarments.Hewouldseizethecoat,then,andbeintheactofthrowingitout,whenitwouldoccurtohimthatitwouldswimandnotsink.Hehaslittletime,forhehasheardthescuffledownstairswhenthewifetriedtoforceherwayup,andperhapshehasalreadyheardfromhisLascarconfederatethatthepolicearehurryingupthestreet.Thereisnotaninstanttobelost.Herushestosomesecrethoard,wherehehasaccumulatedthefruitsofhisbeggary,andhestuffsallthecoinsuponwhichhecanlayhishandsintothepocketstomakesureofthecoat’ssinking.Hethrowsitout,andwouldhavedonethesamewiththeothergarmentshadnotheheardtherushofstepsbelow,andonlyjusthadtimetoclosethewindowwhenthepoliceappeared.” “Itcertainlysoundsfeasible.” “Well,wewilltakeitasaworkinghypothesisforwantofabetter.Boone,asIhavetoldyou,wasarrestedandtakentothestation,butitcouldnotbeshownthattherehadeverbeforebeenanythingagainsthim.Hehadforyearsbeenknownasaprofessionalbeggar,buthislifeappearedtohavebeenaveryquietandinnocentone.Therethematterstandsatpresent,andthequestionswhichhavetobesolved—whatNevilleSt.Clairwasdoingintheopiumden,whathappenedtohimwhenthere,whereishenow,andwhatHughBoonehadtodowithhisdisappearance—areallasfarfromasolutionasever.IconfessthatIcannotrecallanycasewithinmyexperiencewhichlookedatthefirstglancesosimpleandyetwhichpresentedsuchdifficulties.” WhileSherlockHolmeshadbeendetailingthissingularseriesofevents,wehadbeenwhirlingthroughtheoutskirtsofthegreattownuntilthelaststragglinghouseshadbeenleftbehind,andwerattledalongwithacountryhedgeuponeithersideofus.Justashefinished,however,wedrovethroughtwoscatteredvillages,whereafewlightsstillglimmeredinthewindows. “WeareontheoutskirtsofLee,”saidmycompanion.“WehavetouchedonthreeEnglishcountiesinourshortdrive,startinginMiddlesex,passingoveranangleofSurrey,andendinginKent.Seethatlightamongthetrees?ThatisTheCedars,andbesidethatlampsitsawomanwhoseanxiousearshavealready,Ihavelittledoubt,caughttheclinkofourhorse’sfeet.” “ButwhyareyounotconductingthecasefromBakerStreet?”Iasked. “Becausetherearemanyinquirieswhichmustbemadeouthere.Mrs.St.Clairhasmostkindlyputtworoomsatmydisposal,andyoumayrestassuredthatshewillhavenothingbutawelcomeformyfriendandcolleague.Ihatetomeether,Watson,whenIhavenonewsofherhusband.Hereweare.Whoa,there,whoa!” Wehadpulledupinfrontofalargevillawhichstoodwithinitsowngrounds.Astable-boyhadrunouttothehorse’shead,andspringingdown,IfollowedHolmesupthesmall,windinggravel-drivewhichledtothehouse.Asweapproached,thedoorflewopen,andalittleblondewomanstoodintheopening,cladinsomesortoflightmousselinedesoie,withatouchoffluffypinkchiffonatherneckandwrists.Shestoodwithherfigureoutlinedagainstthefloodoflight,onehanduponthedoor,onehalf-raisedinhereagerness,herbodyslightlybent,herheadandfaceprotruded,witheagereyesandpartedlips,astandingquestion. “Well?”shecried,“well?”Andthen,seeingthatthereweretwoofus,shegaveacryofhopewhichsankintoagroanasshesawthatmycompanionshookhisheadandshruggedhisshoulders. “Nogoodnews?” “None.” “Nobad?” “No.” “ThankGodforthat.Butcomein.Youmustbeweary,foryouhavehadalongday.” “Thisismyfriend,Dr.Watson.Hehasbeenofmostvitalusetomeinseveralofmycases,andaluckychancehasmadeitpossibleformetobringhimoutandassociatehimwiththisinvestigation.” “Iamdelightedtoseeyou,”saidshe,pressingmyhandwarmly.“Youwill,Iamsure,forgiveanythingthatmaybewantinginourarrangements,whenyouconsidertheblowwhichhascomesosuddenlyuponus.” “Mydearmadam,”saidI,“Iamanoldcampaigner,andifIwerenotIcanverywellseethatnoapologyisneeded.IfIcanbeofanyassistance,eithertoyouortomyfriendhere,Ishallbeindeedhappy.” “Now,Mr.SherlockHolmes,”saidtheladyasweenteredawell-litdining-room,uponthetableofwhichacoldsupperhadbeenlaidout,“Ishouldverymuchliketoaskyouoneortwoplainquestions,towhichIbegthatyouwillgiveaplainanswer.” “Certainly,madam.” “Donottroubleaboutmyfeelings.Iamnothysterical,norgiventofainting.Isimplywishtohearyourreal,realopinion.” “Uponwhatpoint?” “Inyourheartofhearts,doyouthinkthatNevilleisalive?” SherlockHolmesseemedtobeembarrassedbythequestion.“Frankly,now!”sherepeated,standingupontherugandlookingkeenlydownathimasheleanedbackinabasket-chair. “Frankly,then,madam,Idonot.” “Youthinkthatheisdead?” “Ido.” “Murdered?” “Idon’tsaythat.Perhaps.” “Andonwhatdaydidhemeethisdeath?” “OnMonday.” “Thenperhaps,Mr.Holmes,youwillbegoodenoughtoexplainhowitisthatIhavereceivedaletterfromhimto-day.” SherlockHolmessprangoutofhischairasifhehadbeengalvanised. “What!”heroared. “Yes,to-day.”Shestoodsmiling,holdingupalittleslipofpaperintheair. “MayIseeit?” “Certainly.” Hesnatcheditfromherinhise