“I have a young girl.”
“Try and get Sutro to spend a night or two in the house. Youmight possibly want protection.”
“Against whom?”
“Who knows? The matter is certainly obscure. If I can’t findwhat they are after, I must approach the matter from the otherend and try to get at the principal. Did this house-agent man giveany address?”
“Simply his card and occupation. Haines-Johnson, Auctioneerand Valuer.”
“I don’t think we shall find him in the directory. Honestbusiness men don’t conceal their place of business. Well, you willlet me know any fresh development. I have taken up your case,and you may rely upon it that I shall see it through.”
As we passed through the hall Holmes’s eyes, which missednothing, lighted upon several trunks and cases which were piled ina corner. The labels shone out upon them.
“ ‘Milano.’ ‘Lucerne.’ These are from Italy.”
“They are poor Douglas’s things.”
“You have not unpacked them? How long have you had them?”
“They arrived last week.”
“But you said—why, surely this might be the missing link. Howdo we know that there is not something of value there?”
“There could not possibly be, Mr. Holmes. Poor Douglas hadonly his pay and a small annuity. What could he have of value?”
Holmes was lost in thought.
“Delay no longer, Mrs. Maberley,” he said at last. “Have thesethings taken upstairs to your bedroom. Examine them as soonas possible and see what they contain. I will come tomorrow andhear your report.”
It was quite evident that The Three Gables was under very closesurveillance, for as we came round the high hedge at the end ofthe lane there was the negro prize-fighter standing in the shadow.
We came on him quite suddenly, and a grim and menacing figurehe looked in that lonely place. Holmes clapped his hand to hispocket.
“Lookin’ for your gun, Masser Holmes?”
“No, for my scent-bottle, Steve.”
“You are funny, Masser Holmes, ain’t you?”
“It won’t be funny for you, Steve, if I get after you. I gave youfair warning this morning.”
“Well, Masser Holmes, I done gone think over what you said,and I don’t want no more talk about that affair of Masser Perkins.
S’pose I can help you, Masser Holmes, I will.”
“Well, then, tell me who is behind you on this job.”
1292 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
“So help me the Lord! Masser Holmes, I told you the truthbefore. I don’t know. My boss Barney gives me orders and that’s all.”
“Well, just bear in mind, Steve, that the lady in that house, andeverything under that roof, is under my protection. Don’t forgetit.”
“All right, Masser Holmes. I’ll remember.”
“I’ve got him thoroughly frightened for his own skin, Watson,”
Holmes remarked as we walked on. “I think he would doublecrosshis employer if he knew who he was. It was lucky I had someknowledge of the Spencer John crowd, and that Steve was oneof them. Now, Watson, this is a case for Langdale Pike, and I amgoing to see him now. When I get back I may be clearer in thematter.”
I saw no more of Holmes during the day, but I could wellimagine how he spent it, for Langdale Pike was his human book ofreference upon all matters of social scandal. This strange, languidcreature spent his waking hours in the bow window of a St. James’sStreet club and was the receivingstation as well as the transmitterfor all the gossip of the metropolis. He made, it was said, a fourfigureincome by the paragraphs which he contributed every weekto the garbage papers which cater to an inquisitive public. If ever,far down in the turbid depths of London life, there was somestrange swirl or eddy, it was marked with automatic exactnessby this human dial upon the surface. Holmes discreetly helpedLangdale to knowledge, and on occasion was helped in turn.
When I met my friend in his room early next morning, I wasconscious from his bearing that all was well, but none the less amost unpleasant surprise was awaiting us. It took the shape of thefollowing telegram:
Please come out at once. Client’s house burgled in the night. Policein possession.
SUTRO.
Holmes whistled. “The drama has come to a crisis, and quickerthan I had expected. There is a great driving-power at the backof this business, Watson, which does not surprise me after what Ihave heard. This Sutro, of course, is her lawyer. I made a mistake,fear, in not asking you to spend the night on guard. This fellowhas clearly proved a broken reed. Well, there is nothing for it butanother journey to Harrow Weald.”
We found The Three Gables a very different establishment tothe orderly household of the previous day. A small group of idlershad assembled at the garden gate, while a couple of constableswere examining the windows and the geranium beds. Within weThe Case Book of Sherlock Holmes 1293met a gray old gentleman, who introduced himself as the lawyertogether with a bustling, rubicund inspector, who greeted Hoimesas an old friend.
“Well, Mr. Holmes, no chance for you in this case, I’m afraid.
Just a common, ordinary burglary, and well within the capacity ofthe poor old police. No experts need apply.”
“I am sure the case is in very good hands,” said Holmes. “Merelya common burglary, you say?”
“Quite so. We know pretty well who the men are and where tofind them. It is that gang of Barney Stockdale, with the big niggerin it—they’ve been seen about here.”
“Excellent! What did they get?”
“Well, they don’t seem to have got much. Mrs. Maberley waschloroformed and the house was—Ah! here is the lady herself.”
Our friend of yesterday, looking very pale and ill, had enteredthe room, leaning upon a little maidservant.
“You gave me good advice, Mr. Holmes,” said she, smilingruefully. “Alas, I did not take it! I did not wish to trouble Mr.
Sutro, and so I was unprotected.”
“I only heard of it this morning,” the lawyer explained.
“Mr. Holmes advised me to have some friend in the house. Ineglected his advice, and I have paid for it.”
“You look wretchedly ill,” said Holmes. “Perhaps you are hardlyequal to telling me what occurred.”
“It is all here,” said the inspector, tapping a bulky notebook.
“Still, if the lady is not too exhausted——”