American fiction -- 20th century; Detective and mystery stories
The Extraordinary Man raised his hand to command additional silence;
held it in the air a few moments; then, in brief, crisp terms he put
forward question after question, and noted the answers with “Um-ums,”
nods of the head, and so on. By this process he learned all about Flint
Buckner, his character, conduct, and habits, that the people were able
to tell him. It thus transpired that the Extraordinary Man's nephew
was the only person in the camp who had a killing-grudge against Flint
Buckner. Mr. Holmes smiled compassionately upon the witness, and asked,
languidly--
“Do any of you gentlemen chance to know where the lad Fetlock Jones was
at the time of the explosion?”
A thunderous response followed--
“In the billiard-room of this house!”
“Ah. And had he just come in?”
“Been there all of an hour!”
“Ah. It is about--about--well, about how far might it be to the scene of
the explosions.”
“All of a mile!”
“Ah. It isn't much of an alibi, 'tis true, but--”
A storm-burst of laughter, mingled with shouts of “By jiminy, but he's
chain-lightning!” and “Ain't you sorry you spoke, Sandy?” shut off the
rest of the sentence, and the crushed witness drooped his blushing face
in pathetic shame. The inquisitor resumed:
“The lad Jones's somewhat distant connection with the case” (laughter)
“having been disposed of, let us now call the eye-witnesses of the
tragedy, and listen to what they have to say.”
He got out his fragmentary clues and arranged them on a sheet of
cardboard on his knee. The house held its breath and watched.
“We have the longitude and the latitude, corrected for magnetic
variation, and this gives us the exact location of the tragedy. We
have the altitude, the temperature, and the degree of humidity
prevailing--inestimably valuable, since they enable us to estimate with
precision the degree of influence which they would exercise upon the
mood and disposition of the assassin at that time of the night.”
(Buzz of admiration; muttered remark, “By George, but he's deep!”) He
fingered his clues. “And now let us ask these mute witnesses to speak to
us.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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