Sherlock Holmes In Montague Street Volume 2 (7 page)

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Authors: David Marcum

Tags: #Sherlock, #Holmes, #mystery, #crime, #british, #short fiction

BOOK: Sherlock Holmes In Montague Street Volume 2
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Holmes bowed, and laughingly expressed a fear lest Mr. Hardwick should come to London and supplant him altogether. “This seems a curious case,” he added. “If you don't mind, I think I should like to take a glance at the tracks and whatever other traces there may be, just by way of keeping my hand in.”

“Certainly,” Mr. Hardwick replied, brightening. “I should of all things like to have Mr. Holmes's opinions on the observations I have made - just for my own gratification. As to his opinion - there can be no room for doubt; the thing is plain.”

With many promises not to be late for dinner, we left my uncle and walked with Mr. Hardwick in the direction of Ratherby Wood. It was an unfrequented part, he told us, and by particular care he had managed, he hoped, to prevent the rumor spreading to the village yet, so that we might hope to find the trails not yet overlaid. It was a man of his own, he said, who, making a short cut through the wood, had come upon the body hanging, and had run immediately to inform him. With this man he had gone back, cut down the body, and made his observations. He had followed the trail backward to Ranworth, and there had found the new coachman, who had once been in his own service. From him he had learned the doings of the brothers Foster as they left the place, and from him he had ascertained that they had not then returned. Then, leaving his man by the body, he had come straight to my uncle's.

Presently we came on the footpath leading from Ranworth across the field to Ratherby Wood. It was a mere trail of bare earth worn by successive feet amid the grass. It was damp, and we all stooped and examined the footmarks that were to be seen on it. They all pointed one way - towards the wood in the distance.

“Fortunately it's not a greatly frequented path,” Mr. Hardwick said. “You see, there are the marks of three pairs of feet only, and as first Sneathy and then both of the brothers came this way, these footmarks must be theirs. Which are Sneathy's is plain - they are these large flat ones. If you notice, they are all distinctly visible in the centre of the track, showing plainly that they belong to the man who walked alone, which was Sneathy. Of the others, the marks of the
outside
feet - the left on the left side and the right on the right - are often not visible. Clearly they belong to two men walking side by side, and more often than not treading, with their outer feet, on the grass at the side. And where these happen to drop on the same spot as the marks in the middle they cover them. Plainly they are the footmarks of Henry and Robert Foster, made as they followed Sneathy. Don't you agree with me Mr. Holmes?”

“Oh yes, that's very plain. You have a better pair of eyes than most people, Mr. Hardwick, and a good idea of using them, too. We will go into the wood now. As a matter of fact I can pretty clearly distinguish most of the other footmarks - those on the grass; but that's a matter of much training.”

We followed the footpath, keeping on the grass at its side, in case it should be desirable to refer again to the foot-tracks. For some little distance into the wood the tracks continued as before, those of the brothers overlaying those of Sneathy. Then there was a difference. The path here was broader and muddy, because of the proximity of trees, and suddenly the outer footprints separated, and no more overlay the larger ones in the centre, but proceeded at an equal distance on either side of them.

“See there,” cried Mr. Hardwick, pointing triumphantly to the spot, “this is where they over took him, and walked on either side. The body was found only a little farther on - you could see the place now if the path didn't zigzag about so.”

Holmes said nothing, but stooped and examined the tracks at the sides with great care and evident thought, spanning the distances between them comparatively with his arms. Then he rose and stepped lightly from one mark to another, taking care not to tread on the mark itself. “Very good,” he said shortly on finishing his examination. “We'll go on.”

We went on, and presently came to the place where the body lay. Here the ground sloped from the left down towards the right, and a tiny streamlet, a mere trickle of a foot or two wide, ran across the path. In rainy seasons it was probably wider, for all the earth and clay had been washed away for some feet on each side, leaving flat, bare and very coarse gravel, on which the trail was lost. Just beyond this, and to the left, the body lay on a grassy knoll under the limb of a tree, from which still depended a part of the cut rope. It was not a pleasant sight. The man was a soft, fleshy creature, probably rather under than over the medium height, and he lay there, with his stretched neck and protruding tongue, a revolting object. His right arm lay by his side, and the stump of the wrist was clotted with black blood. Mr. Hardwick's man was still in charge, seemingly little pleased with his job, and a few yards off stood a couple of countrymen looking on.

Holmes asked from which direction these men had come, and having ascertained and noticed their footmarks, he asked them to stay exactly where they were, to avoid confusing such other tracks as might be seen. Then he addressed himself to his examination. “
First
,” he said, glancing up at the branch, that was scarce a yard above his head, “this rope has been here for some time.”

“Yes,” Mr. Hardwick replied, “it's an old swing rope. Some children used it in the summer, but it got partly cut away, and the odd couple of yards has been hanging since.”

“Ah,” said Holmes, “then if the Fosters did this they were saved some trouble by the chance, and were able to take their halter back with them - and so avoid
one
chance of detection.” He very closely scrutinized the top of a tree stump, probably the relic of a tree that had been cut down long before, and then addressed himself to the body.

“When you cut it down,” he said, “did it fall in a heap?”

“No, my man eased it down to some extent.”

“Not on to its face?”

“Oh no. On to its back, just as it is now.” Mr. Hardwick saw that Holmes was looking at muddy marks on each of the corpse's knees, to one of which a small leaf clung, and at one or two other marks of the same sort on the fore part of the dress. “That seems to show pretty plainly,” he said, “that he must have struggled with them and was thrown forward, doesn't it?”

Holmes did not reply, but gingerly lifted the right arm by its sleeve. “Is either of the brothers Foster left-handed?” he asked.

“No, I think not. Here, Bennett, you have seen plenty of their doings - cricket, shooting, and so on - do you remember if either is left-handed?”

“Nayther, sir,” Mr. Hardwick's man answered. “Both on 'em's right-handed.”

Holmes lifted the lapel of the coat and attentively regarded a small rent in it. The dead man's hat lay near, and after a few glances at that, Holmes dropped it and turned his attention to the hair. This was coarse and dark and long, and brushed straight back with no parting.

“This doesn't look very symmetrical, does it?” Holmes remarked, pointing to the locks over the right ear. They were shorter just there than on the other side, and apparently very clumsily cut, whereas in every other part the hair appeared to be rather well and carefully trimmed. Mr. Hardwick said nothing, but fidgeted a little, as though he considered that valuable time was being wasted over irrelevant trivialities.

Presently, however, he spoke. “There's very little to be learned from the body, is there?” he said. “I think I'm quite justified in ordering their arrest, eh? - indeed, I've wasted too much time already.”

Holmes was groping about among some bushes behind the tree from which the corpse had been taken. When he answered, he said, “I don't think I should do anything of the sort just now, Mr. Hardwick. As a matter of fact, I
fancy
” - this word with an emphasis - “that the brothers Foster may not have seen this man Sneathy at all today.”

“Not seen him? Why, my dear sir, there's no question of it. It's certain, absolutely. The evidence is positive. The fact of the threats and of the body being found treated so is pretty well enough, I should think. But that's nothing - look at those footmarks. They've walked along with him, one each side, without a possible doubt; plainly they were the last people with him, in any case. And you don't mean to ask anybody to believe that the dead man, even if he hanged himself, cut off his own hand first. Even if you do, where's the hand? And even putting aside all these considerations, each a complete case in itself, the Fosters
must
at least have seen the body as they came past, and yet nothing has been heard of them yet. Why didn't they spread the alarm? They went straight away in the opposite direction from home - there are their footmarks, which you've not seen yet, beyond the gravel.”

Holmes stepped over to where the patch of clean gravel ceased, at the opposite side to that from which we had approached the brook, and there, sure enough, were the now familiar footmarks of the brothers leading away from the scene of Sneathy's end. “Yes,” Holmes said, “I see them. Of course, Mr. Hardwick, you'll do what seems right in your own eyes, and in any case not much harm will be done by the arrest beyond a terrible fright for that unfortunate family. Nevertheless, if you care for my impression, it is, as I have said, that the Fosters have not seen Sneathy today.”

“But what about the hand?”

“As to that I have a conjecture, but as yet it is only a conjecture, and if I told it you would probably call it absurd - certainly you'd disregard it, and perhaps quite excusably. The case is a complicated one, and, if there is anything at all in my conjecture, one of the most remarkable I have ever had to do with. It interests me intensely, and I shall devote a little time now to following up the theory I have formed. You have, I suppose, already communicated with the police?”

“I wired to Shopperton at once, as soon as I heard of the matter. It's a twelve miles drive, but I wonder the police have not arrived yet. They can't be long; I don't know where the village constable has got to, but in any case
he
wouldn't be much good. But as to your idea that the Fosters can't be suspected - well, nobody could respect your opinion, Mr. Holmes, more than myself, but really, just think. The notion's impossible - fifty-fold impossible. As soon as the police arrive I shall have that trail followed and the Fosters apprehended. I should be a fool if I didn't.”

“Very well, Mr. Hardwick,” Holmes replied; “you'll do what you consider your duty, of course, and quite properly, though I
would
recommend you to take another glance at those three trails in the path. I shall take a look in this direction.” And he turned up by the side of the streamlet, keeping on the gravel at its side.

I followed. We climbed the rising ground, and presently, among the trees, came to the place where the little rill emerged from the broken ground in the highest part of the wood. Here the clean ground ceased, and there was a large patch of wet clayey earth. Several marks left by the feet of cattle were there, and one or two human footmarks. Two of these (a pair), the newest and the most distinct, Holmes studied carefully, and measured each direction.

“Notice these marks,” he said. “They may be of importance or they may not - that we shall see. Fortunately they are very distinctive - the right boot is a badly worn one, and a small tag of leather, where the soul is damaged, is doubled over and trodden into the soft earth. Nothing could be luckier. Clearly they are the most recent footsteps in this direction - from the main road, which lies right ahead, through the rest of the wood.”

“Then you think somebody else has been on the scene of the tragedy, beside the victim and the brothers?” I said.

“Yes, I do. But hark; there is a vehicle in the road. Can you see between the trees? Yes, it is the police cart. We shall be able to report its arrival to Mr. Hardwick as we go down.”

We turned and walked rapidly down the incline to where we had come from. Mr. Hardwick and his man were still there, and another rustic had arrived to gape. We told Mr. Hardwick that he might expect the police presently, and proceeded along the gravel skirting the stream, toward the lower part of the wood.

Here Holmes proceeded very cautiously, keeping a sharp look-out on either side for footprints on the neighboring soft ground. There were none, however, for the gravel margin of the stream made a sort of footpath of itself, and the trees and undergrowth were close and thick on each side. At the bottom we emerged from the wood on a small piece of open ground skirting a lane, and here, just by the side of the lane, where the stream fell into a trench, Holmes suddenly pounced on another footmark. He was unusually excited.

“See,” he said, “here it is - the right foot with its broken leather, and the corresponding left foot on the damp edge of the lane itself. He - the man with the broken shoe - has walked on the hard gravel all the way down from the source of the stream, and his is the only trail unaccounted for near the body. Come, Brett, we've an adventure on foot. Do you care to let your uncle's dinner go by the board, and follow?”

“Can't we go back and tell him?”

“No - there's no time to lose; we must follow up this man - or at least I must. You go or stay, of course, as you think best.”

I hesitated a moment, picturing to myself the excellent Colonel as he would appear after waiting dinner an hour or two for us, but decided to go. “At any rate,” I said, “if the way lies along the roads we shall probably meet somebody going in the direction of Ratherby who will take a message. But what is your theory? I don't understand at all. I must say everything Hardwick said seemed to me to be beyond question. There were the tracks to prove that the three had walked together to the spot, and that the brothers had gone on alone; and every other circumstance pointed the same way. Then, what possible motive could anybody else about here have for such a crime? Unless, indeed, it were one of the people defrauded by Sneathy's late companies.”

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