THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP.

Golden Bay Argus, Volume 2, Issue 6, 8 July 1892, Page 2

THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP.

By A. Conan Doyle.

Concluded.

While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of events we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great town until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled along with a country hedge on either side of us. Just as ne finished, however, we drove through two ccattered villages, where a few lights still glimmered in the windows.

" We are on the outskirts of Lee," said my companion. "We have touched on three English counties in our short drive, startinf in Middlesex, passing over an angle go Surrey, and ending in Kent. See that light among the trees ? That is The Cedars, and beside that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already, I have little doubt, saught the click of our horse's feet."

"But why are you not conducting the case from Baker-street ?" I asked.

"■ Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for my friend and oolleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have no news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa."

We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own A stable boy had run out to the horse's hea'd, and." springing down, I followed Holmes up. the small, winding gravel drive which led to the house. As we approached, the7door flew open, and a little blonde woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort of mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with her figure outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon the door, one half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her head and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing question. " Well ?" she cried, " well!"

And, then, seeing that there were two of us she gave a ciy of hope which Bank into a groan as eho saw that my companion ahook his head and shrugged his shoulders. "No good news?" e * '■ "Nom." . # "No bud? 1 ' "No." " Thank God for * that ! But come in. You must be weary, for you have had a long day." " This ia my friend, Dr. Watson. He has 'been of most vital use to me in several of my •cases, and a lucky chance has made it possible for me to bring him out and associate i him with this investigation:" •' I am delighted to see you," said she, pressing my hand warmly. " You will, I •am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so suddenly upon us." " My dear madpm," said I, " I am an old campaigner, and if I were not, I can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can •be of any assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be indeed happy." "Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the Jady, as we entered a well-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a oold supper has heen laid out. "I should very much like to ask you one or two plain questions, to which I beg that you will give a plaid answer." " Certainly, madam." "Da not trouble about my feelings, lam not hysterical, nor given to fainting, simply wish to hear your real, real opinion." " Upon what point ?" "In your heart of hearts do you think that Neville is alive?" Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. " Frankly now 1" she repeated, standing •upon the rug, and looking keenly down at him, as he leaned back in a basket chair. " Frankly then, madam, I do not." "You think that he is dead?" "I do." " Murdered?" """ " I don't say that. Perhaps." '•And on what day did he meet his death?" " On Monday." " Then perhapß, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how it is that I have received a letter from him to-day? " Sherlock Holmes sprang out of hia chair as if he had been galvanized. ■«.' What I " he roared. ««Yes, to-day," " She stood smiling, holding a little slip of paper in the air. "May I see it?" ' "Certainly."

He snatohed it from her in his eagernesß, and smoothing it on the table, he drew over the lamp, and examined it intently. I had left my chair, and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The envelope was a very coarse one, and was stamped with the Gravesend post-mark, and with the date of that very day, or rather the day before, for it was considerably after midnight. " Coarse writing," murmured Holmes. " Surely this is not your husband's writing, madam. 1 '

"No, but the enclosure is." " I perceive, also, that whoever addressed the envelops had to go and inquire as to the address."

" How oan you tell that ?" "The name, you see is in perfectly black ink, which has dried itself. The rest is of the greyish colour which shows the blotting paper has been used. If it had been written straight off, and then blotted, none would be of a deep black shade. This man has written the name, and there has then been a pause before he wrote the address, which can only mean that he was not familiar with it. It is, of course, a trifle, but there is nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha ! there has been an enclosure here."

" Yes, there was a ring - His signet ring." " And you are sure that this is your husband's hßnd?" " One of his hands," "One?"

" His hand when he wrote hurriedly It is very unlike his usual writing, and yet I know it well."

" ' Dearest, do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a huge error which it may take some time to rectify. Wait in patience. Neville.'

"Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf of a book, octavo size, no watermark. Hum I Posted to-day in Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. Ha 1 And the flap has been gummed, if I am not very much in error, by a man who had been chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt that it is-your husband's hand, madam?"

"None. Neville wrote those words."

"And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, the clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that tbe danger is over." " But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes."

"Unless this a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scant. The ring, after all proves nothing. It may have been taken from him."

"No.no; it is, it is.it is his very own writing !" " Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday, and only posted today."

" That is possible." "If so, muoh may have happened be tween."

" Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is well with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us, that I should know if evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him last he cut himself in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that something had happened. Do you think that I would respond to such a trifle, and yet be ignorant of his death?"

" I have seen too muoh not to know that the impression of a woman mßy be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner. And in this letter you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence to corroborate your view. But if your husband is alive, and able to write letters, why should he remain away from you ?" " I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable." " And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you ?"

"No." " And you were surprised to see him in Swandam-lane?"

" Very much so." " Was the window open ?" " Then he might have oalled to you ? ' " He might." " He only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?" "Yes." •' A call for help, you thought ?" "Yes. He waved his hands." "But it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at the unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands ?" "It is possible." " And you thought he was pulled baok?" " He disappeared so suddenly." "He might have leaped baok. Yon did not see anyone else in the room ?" "No, but this horrible man confessed to having been there, and the Lascar was at the foot of the stairs."

"Quite so. Your husband, as far as you could see, had his ordinary olothes on ?"

" But without his collar or tie. 1 distinctly

saw his baret hroat." " Had he ever spoken of Swandam-lane ?" " Never." ■' Had he ever shown any signs of having taken opium ?" " Never."

"Thank you, Mrs. St. Clair. Those are the principal points about which I wished to be absolutely clear. We shall now have a little supper and then letire, for we may have a very busy day to-morrow." A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our disposal, and I was quickly between the sheets, for 1 was weary after my night of adventure. Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind w uld go for days, and even for a week, without rest, turning it over, rearranging his facts, looking at it from every point of view, until he had either fathomed it, or oonvinced himself thut his data were insufficient. It was soon evident to me that he was now preparing for an all-night Bitting. He took off his coat and waistcoat, put on a large blue dressing-gown, and then wandered about the room collecting pillows from his bed, and cushions from the sofa and arm-chairs. With these be constructed a sort of Eastern divan, upon which he perched himself crosslegged, with an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front of him. In the dim light of the lamp I saw him sitting there, an old brier pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the corner of the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from him silent, motionless, with the light shining upon bis strong Bet aquiline features.

So he Bat as I dropped off to sleep, and so he sat when a sudden ej aculation caused me to wak6 up, and I found the summer sun shining into the apariment. The pipe was still between his lips, the smoke still curled upwards, and the room was full of a' dense tobacco haze, but nothing remained of the heap of shag which 1 had seen upon the previous night. " Awake, Watson ?" " Yes." " Game for a morning drive ?" " Certainly."

"Then dress; No one is stirring yet, but I know where the stable boy sleeps, and we shall have the trap out." He chuckled to himself as he spoke, his eyes twinkled, and he seemed a different man to the sombre thinker of the previous night.

As I dressed, I glanced at my watch. It was no wonder that no one was stirring. It was twenty-five minutes past four. I had hardly finished when Holmes returned with the news that the boy was putting in the horse.

" I want to test a little theory of mine," said he, pulling on his boots. " I think, Watson, you are now standing in the presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve to be kicked from here to Charing-cross. But I think I have the affair now."

" And where is it ?" I asked, smiling. "In the bath-room," he answered, " Oh, yes, I am not joking," he continued, seeing my look of incredulity. I Have just been there, and I have taken it out, and I have got it in this Gladstone bag. Come on, my boy, and we will see whether it will not fit the lock."

We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into the bright morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and trap, with the half-clad stable boy waiting at the head. We both sprang in, and away we dashed down the Londoa-road. A. few country carts were stirring, bearing in vegetables to the metropolis, but the lineß of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as some city in a dream.

"It has been in* some points a singular case," said Holmes, flicking the horse on into a gallop. " I confess that I have been aa blind as a mole, but it is better to learn wisdom late, than never to learn it at all."

In town, the earliest risers were juat beginning to look sleepily from their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey side. Passing down the Waterloo Bridga-road we crossed over the river, and dashing up Wellington-street, wheeled Bharply to the right, and found ourselves in Bow-street. Sherlock Holmes was well known to the foroe, and the two constables at the door saluted him. One of them held the horse's head while the other led us in.

" Who is on duty?" asked Holmes. " Inspector Bradatreet, sir." " Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?" A tall, stout official had come down the stoneflagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket. " I want to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet."

" Certainly, Mr. Holmes. Step into my room here."

It was a small office-like room, with a huge ledger on the table, and a telephone projecting from the wall. The inspector sat down at his desk.

" What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes ?" " I called about that beggar-man, Boone the one who was charged with being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee." " Yea. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries." "So I heard. You have him here?" "In the cells." " Is he quiet ?" " Oh, he gives us no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel." "Dirty?"

" Yea, it is all we can do to make him wash his hands, and his face is as black as a tinker's. Well, when once his case has been; settled he will have a regular prison bath ; and I think, if you saw him, you would agree with me that he needed it."

"I should like to see him very much." " Would you ? That is easily done. Come this way. You oan leave your bag," " No, I think I'll take it." "Very good. Come this way, if you please."

He led us down a passage, opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and brought us to a whitewashed corridor, with a line of doors on each side.

<* The third on the right is hi 3," said the inspector. " Here it is."

He quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door, and glanced through. "He is asleep," said he. " You can see him very well."

" We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his face towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad, as became his calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rents in his tattered coat. He was, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime which covered hia face could not conceal its reDulsive ugliness.

A broad wheal from an old scar ran across it, from eye to chin, and by its con. traction had turned up one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a

twisted lip— Q perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over his eyes and forehead.

" He's a beauty, isn't he ?" said the inspector.

"He certainly needs a wash," remarked Holmes. " I had an idea that he might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me."

He opened his Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my astonishment, a very large bath sponge.

"Hel he! .You are a funny one," chuckled the inspector. "Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very quietly, we will soon make him cut a muoh more respectable figure."

" Well, I don't know why not," Eaid the inspector. "He doesn't look a credit to the Bow-street cells, does he ? "

He flipped his key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The slseper half turned, and then settled down once more into a deep slumber. Holmes stooped to the water jug, moistened his sponge, and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the prisoner's face.

" Let me introduce you," he shouted, " to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee, in the county of Kent."

Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man's face peeled off under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the coarße brown tint ! Gone, too, the horrid scar whioh had seemed it across, Bnd the twisted lip whicn had given the repulsive sneer to the face ! A twitch brought away the tangled red hair, and there, setting up in his bed, was a pale, sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and smooth-skinned, rubbing his eyes, and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment. Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a soream, and threw himself down with his face on the pillow.

" Great heaven 1" cried the inspector, " it is, indeed, the missing man. I know him from the photograph." The prisoner turned with the reokless air of a man who abannons himself to his destiny.

"Be it so," said he. •' And pray, what am I charged with ? "

" With making away with Mr. Neville St. Oh, come, you oan't be charged with that, unless they make a oase of attempted suicide of it," said the inspector, with a grin. " Well, I have been twenty-rive years in the force, but this really takes the cake." «.' It I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is