The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. Артур Конан Дойл
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Torquay Terrace. Thus I got at his address.”
“Smart – very smart!” murmured Sherlock Holmes.
“I next called upon Madame Charpentier,” continued the detective. “I found her very pale and distressed. Her daughter was in the room, too – an uncommonly fine girl she is, too; she was looking red about the eyes and her lips trembled as I spoke to her. That didn’t escape my notice. I began to smell a rat. You know the feeling, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, when you come upon the right scent – a kind of thrill in your nerves. ‘Have you heard of the mysterious death of your late boarder Mr. Enoch J. Drebber, of Cleveland?’
I asked.
“The mother nodded. She didn’t seem able to get out a word. The daughter burst into tears. I felt more than ever that these people knew something of the matter.
“‘At what o’clock did Mr. Drebber leave your house for the train?’ I asked.
“‘At eight o’clock,’ she said, gulping in her throat to keep down her agitation. ‘His secretary, Mr. Stangerson, said that there were two trains – one at 9.15 and one at 11. He was to catch the first.’
“‘And was that the last which you saw of him?’
“A terrible change came over the woman’s face as I asked the question. Her features turned perfectly livid. It was some seconds before she could get out the single word ‘Yes’-and when it did come it was in a husky unnatural tone.
“There was silence for a moment, and then the daughter spoke in a calm clear voice.
“‘No good can ever come of falsehood, mother,’ she said. ‘Let us be frank with this gentleman. We did see Mr. Drebber again.’
“‘God forgive you!’ cried Madame Charpentier, throwing up her hands and sinking back in her chair. ‘You have murdered your brother.’
“‘Arthur would rather that we spoke the truth,’ the girl answered firmly.
“‘You had best tell me all about it now,’ I said. ‘Half-confidences are worse than none. Besides, you do not know how much we know of it.’
“‘On your head be it, Alice!’ cried her mother; and then, turning to me, ‘I will tell you all, sir. Do not imagine that my agitation on behalf of my son arises from any fear lest he should have had a hand in this terrible affair. He is utterly innocent of it. My dread is, however, that in your eyes and in the eyes of others he may appear to be compromised. That however is surely impossible. His high character, his profession, his antecedents would all forbid it.’
“‘Your best way is to make a clean breast of the facts,’ I answered. ‘Depend upon it, if your son is innocent he will be none the worse.’
“‘Perhaps, Alice, you had better leave us together,’ she said, and her daughter withdrew. ‘Now, sir,’ she continued, ‘I had no intention of telling you all this, but since my poor daughter has disclosed it I have no alternative. Having once decided to speak, I will tell you all without omitting any particular.’
“‘It is your wisest course,’ said I.
“‘Mr. Drebber has been with us nearly three weeks. He and his secretary, Mr. Stangerson, had been travelling on the Continent. I noticed a “Copenhagen” label upon each of their trunks, showing that that had been their last stopping place. Stangerson was a quiet reserved man, but his employer, I am sorry to say, was far otherwise. He was coarse in his habits and brutish in his ways. The very night of his arrival he became very much the worse for drink, and, indeed, after twelve o’clock in the day he could hardly ever be said to be sober. His manners towards the maid-servants were disgustingly free and familiar. Worst of all, he speedily assumed the same attitude towards my daughter, Alice, and spoke to her more than once in a way which, fortunately, she is too innocent to understand. On one occasion he actually seized her in his arms and embraced her – an outrage which caused his own secretary to reproach him for his unmanly conduct.’
“‘But why did you stand all this,’ I asked. ‘I suppose that you can get rid of your boarders when you wish.’
“Mrs. Charpentier blushed at my pertinent question. ‘Would to God that I had given him notice on the very day that he came,’ she said. ‘But it was a sore temptation. They were paying a pound a day each – fourteen pounds a week, and this is the slack season. I am a widow, and my boy in the Navy has cost me much. I grudged to lose the money. I acted for the best. This last was too much, however, and I gave him notice to leave on account of it. That was the reason of his going.’
“‘Well?’
“‘My heart grew light when I saw him drive away. My son is on leave just now, but I did not tell him anything of all this, for his temper is violent, and he is passionately fond of his sister. When I closed the door behind them a load seemed to be lifted from my mind. Alas, in less than an hour there was a ring at the bell, and I learned that Mr. Drebber had returned. He was much excited, and evidently the worse for drink. He forced his way into the room, where I was sitting with my daughter, and made some incoherent remark about having missed his train. He then turned to Alice, and before my very face, proposed to her that she should fly with him. “You are of age,” he said, “and there is no law to stop you. I have money enough and to spare. Never mind the old girl here, but come along with me now straight away. You shall live like a princess.” Poor Alice was so frightened that she shrunk away from him, but he caught her by the wrist and endeavoured to draw her towards the door. I screamed, and at that moment my son Arthur came into the room. What happened then I do not know. I heard oaths and the confused sounds of a scuffle. I was too terrified to raise my head. When I did look up I saw Arthur standing in the doorway laughing, with a stick in his hand. “I don’t think that fine fellow will trouble us again,” he said. “I will just go after him and see what he does with himself.” With those words he took his hat and started off down the street. The next morning we heard of Mr. Drebber’s mysterious death.’
“This statement came from Mrs. Charpentier’s lips with many gasps and pauses. At times she spoke so low that I could hardly catch the words. I made shorthand notes of all that she said, however, so that there should be no possibility of a mistake.”
“It’s quite exciting,” said Sherlock Holmes, with a yawn. “What happened next?”
“When Mrs. Charpentier paused,” the detective continued, “I saw that the whole case hung upon one point. Fixing her with my eye in a way which I always found effective with women, I asked her at what hour her son returned.
“‘I do not know,’ she answered.
“‘Not know?’
“‘No; he has a latch-key, and he let himself in.’
“‘After you went to bed?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘When did you go to bed?’
“‘About eleven.’
“‘So your son was gone at least two hours?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘Possibly four or five?’
“‘Yes.’
“‘What was he doing during that time?’
“‘I do not know,’ she answered, turning white to her very lips.
“Of course after that there was nothing more to be done. I found out where Lieutenant Charpentier was, took two officers with me, and arrested him. When I touched him on the shoulder and warned him to come quietly with us, he answered us as bold as brass, ‘I suppose you are arresting me for being concerned in the death of that scoundrel Drebber,’ he said. We had said nothing to him about it, so that his alluding to it had a most suspicious aspect.”
“Very,” said Holmes.
“He still carried the heavy stick which the mother described him as having with him when he followed Drebber. It was a stout oak cudgel.”
“What is your theory, then?”
“Well,