Detective and mystery stories; Holmes, Sherlock (Fictitious character) -- Fiction; Private investigators -- England -- Fiction
“Well, not to make a mystery of so simple a matter, I was looking for
the missing dumb-bell. It has always bulked rather large in my estimate
of the case. I ended by finding it.”
“Where?”
“Ah, there we come to the edge of the unexplored. Let me go a little
further, a very little further, and I will promise that you shall share
everything that I know.”
“Well, we’re bound to take you on your own terms,” said the inspector;
“but when it comes to telling us to abandon the case—why in the name of
goodness should we abandon the case?”
“For the simple reason, my dear Mr. Mac, that you have not got the
first idea what it is that you are investigating.”
“We are investigating the murder of Mr. John Douglas of Birlstone
Manor.”
“Yes, yes, so you are. But don’t trouble to trace the mysterious
gentleman upon the bicycle. I assure you that it won’t help you.”
“Then what do you suggest that we do?”
“I will tell you exactly what to do, if you will do it.”
“Well, I’m bound to say I’ve always found you had reason behind all
your queer ways. I’ll do what you advise.”
“And you, Mr. White Mason?”
The country detective looked helplessly from one to the other. Holmes
and his methods were new to him. “Well, if it is good enough for the
inspector, it is good enough for me,” he said at last.
“Capital!” said Holmes. “Well, then, I should recommend a nice, cheery
country walk for both of you. They tell me that the views from
Birlstone Ridge over the Weald are very remarkable. No doubt lunch
could be got at some suitable hostelry; though my ignorance of the
country prevents me from recommending one. In the evening, tired but
happy—”
“Man, this is getting past a joke!” cried MacDonald, rising angrily
from his chair.
“Well, well, spend the day as you like,” said Holmes, patting him
cheerfully upon the shoulder. “Do what you like and go where you will,
but meet me here before dusk without fail—without fail, Mr. Mac.”
“That sounds more like sanity.”
“All of it was excellent advice; but I don’t insist, so long as you are
here when I need you. But now, before we part, I want you to write a
note to Mr. Barker.”
“Well?”
“I’ll dictate it, if you like. Ready?
“DEAR SIR.—It has struck me that it is our duty to drain the moat, in
the hope that we may find some—”
“It’s impossible,” said the inspector. “I’ve made inquiry.”
“Tut, tut! My dear sir, please do what I ask you.”
“Well, go on.”
“—in the hope that we may find something which may bear upon our
investigation. I have made arrangements, and the workmen will be at
work early to-morrow morning diverting the stream—”
“Impossible!”
“—diverting the stream; so I thought it best to explain matters
beforehand.
“Now sign that, and send it by hand about four o’clock. At that hour we
shall meet again in this room. Until then we may each do what we like;
for I can assure you that this inquiry has come to a definite pause.”
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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