‘The absence of the latter means nothing, though its presence may mean everything,’ said Holmes. ‘Unless the powder from a badly fitting cartridge happens to spurt backward, one may fire many shots without leaving a sign. I would suggest that Mr. Cubitt’s body may now be removed. I suppose, Doctor, you have not recovered the bullet which wounded the lady?’
‘A serious operation will be necessary before that can be done. But there are still four cartridges in the revolver. Two have been fired and two wounds inflicted, so that each bullet can be accounted for.’
‘So it would seem,’ said Holmes. ‘Perhaps you can account also for the bullet which has so obviously struck the edge of the window?’
He had turned suddenly, and his long, thin finger was pointing to a hole which had been drilled right through the lower window-sash, about an inch above the bottom.
‘By George!’ cried the inspector. ‘How ever did you see that?’
‘Because I looked for it.’
‘Wonderful!’ said the country doctor. ‘You are certainly right, sir. Then a third shot has been fired, and therefore a third person must have been present. But who could that have been, and how could he have got awayw?’
‘That is the problem which we are now about to solve,’ said Sherlock Holmes. ‘You remember, Inspector Martin, when the servants said that on leaving their room they were at once conscious of a smell of powder, I remarked that the point was an extremely important one?’
‘Yes, sir; but I confess I did not quite follow you.’
‘It suggested that at the time of the firing, the window as well as the door of the room had been open. Otherwise the fumes of powder could not have been blown so rapidly through the house. A draught in the room was necessary for that. Both door and window were only open for a very short time, however.’
‘How do you prove that?’
‘Because the candle was not guttered.’
‘Capital!’ cried the inspector. ‘Capital!
‘Feeling sure that the window had been open at the time of the tragedy, I conceived that there might have been a third person in the affair, who stood outside this opening and fired through it. Any shot directed at this person might hit the sash. I looked, and there, sure enough, was the bullet mark!’
‘But how came the window to be shut and fastened?’
‘The woman’s first instinct would be to shut and fasten the window. But, halloa! What is this?’
It was a lady’s hand-bag which stood upon the study table – a trim little handbag of crocodile-skin and silver. Holmes opened it and turned the contents out. There were twenty fifty-pound notes of the Bank of England, held together by an india-rubber band – nothing else.
‘This must be preserved, for it will figure in the trial,’ said Holmes, as he handed the bag with its contents to the inspector. ‘It is now necessary that we should try to throw some light upon this third bullet, which has clearly, from the splintering of the wood, been fired from inside the room. I should like to see Mrs. King, the cook, again. You said, Mrs. King, that you were awakened by a loud explosion. When you said that, did you mean that it seemed to you to be louder than the second one?’
‘Well, sir, it wakened me from my sleep, so it is hard to judge. But it did seem very loud.’
‘You don’t think that it might have been two shots fired almost at the same instant?’
‘I am sure I couldn’t say, sir.’
‘I believe that it was undoubtedly so. I rather think, Inspector Martin, that we have now exhausted all that this room can teach us. If you will kindly step round with me, we shall see what fresh evidence the garden has to offer.’
A flower-bed extended up to the study window, and we all broke into an exclamation as we approached it. The flowers were trampled down, and the soft soil was imprinted all over with footmarks. Large, masculine feet they were, with peculiarly long, sharp toes. Holmes hunted about among the grass and leaves like a retriever after a wounded bird. Then, with a cry of satisfaction, he bent forward and picked up a little brazen cylinder.
‘I thought so,’ said he, ‘the revolver had an ejector, and here is the third cartridge. I really think, Inspector Martin, that our case is almost complete.’
The country inspector’s face had shown his intense amazement at the rapid and masterful progress of Holmes’s investigation. At first he had shown some disposition to assert his own position, but now he was overcome with admiration, and ready to follow without question wherever Holmes led.
‘Whom do you suspect?’ he asked.
‘I’ll go into that later. There are several points in this problem which I have not been able to explain to you yet. Now that I have got so far, I had best proceed on my own lines, and then clear the whole matter up once and for all.’
‘Just as you wish, Mr. Holmes, so long as we get our man.’
‘I have no desire to make mysteries, but it is impossible at the moment of action to enter into long and complex explanations. I have the threads of this affair all in my hand. Even if this lady should never recover consciousness, we can still reconstruct the events of last night and insure that justice be done. First of all, I wish to know whether there is any inn in this neighbourhood known as “Elrige’s”?’
The servants were cross-questioned, but none of them had heard of such a place. The stable-boy threw a light upon the matter by remembering that a farmer of that name lived some miles off, in the direction of East Ruston.
‘Is it a lonely farm?’
‘Very lonely, sir.’
‘Perhaps they have not heard yet of all that happened here during the night?’
‘Maybe not, sir.’
Holmes thought for a little, and then a curious smile played over his face.
‘Saddle a horse, my lad,’ said he. ‘I shall wish you to take a note to Elrige’s Farm.’
He took from his pocket the various slips of the dancing men. With these in front of him, he worked for some time at the study-table. Finally he handed a note to the boy, with directions to put it into the hands of the person to whom it was addressed, and especially to answer no questions of any sort which might be put to him. I saw the outside of the note, addressed in straggling, irregular characters, very unlike Holmes’s usual precise hand. It was consigned to Mr. Abe Slaney, Elriges Farm, East Ruston, Norfolk.
‘I think, Inspector,’ Holmes remarked, ‘that you would do well to telegraph for an escort, as, if my calculations prove to be correct, you may have a particularly dangerous prisoner to convey to the county jail. The boy who takes this note could no doubt forward your telegram. If there is an afternoon train to town, Watson, I think we should do well to take it, as I have a chemical analysis of some interest to finish, and this investigation draws rapidly to a close.’
When the youth had been dispatched with the note, Sherlock Holmes gave his instructions to the servants. If any visitor were to call asking for Mrs. Hilton Cubitt, no information should be given as to her condition, but he was to be shown at once into the drawing-room. He impressed these points upon them with the utmost earnestness. Finally he led the way into the drawing-room, with the remark that the business was now out of our hands, and that we must while away the time as best we might until we could see what was in store for us. The doctor had departed to his patients, and only the inspector and myself remained.
‘I think that I can help you to pass an hour in an interesting and profitable manner,’ said Holmes, drawing his chair up to the table, and spreading out in front of him the various papers upon which were recorded the antics of the dancing men. ‘As to you, friend Watson, I owe you every atonement