The case-book of Sherlock Holmes
the future is always a closed book, is, indeed, an ideal helpmate.
I find from my notebook that it was in January, 1903, just after the
conclusion of the Boer War, that I had my visit from Mr. James M. Dodd,
a big, fresh, sunburned, upstanding Briton. The good Watson had at
that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can
recall in our association. I was alone.
It is my habit to sit with my back to the window and to place my
visitors in the opposite chair, where the light falls full upon them.
Mr. James M. Dodd seemed somewhat at a loss how to begin the interview.
I did not attempt to help him, for his silence gave me more time for
observation. I have found it wise to impress clients with a sense of
power, and so I gave him some of my conclusions.
"From South Africa, sir, I perceive."
"Yes, sir," he answered, with some surprise.
"Imperial Yeomanry, I fancy."
"Exactly."
"Middlesex Corps, no doubt."
"That is so. Mr. Holmes, you are a wizard."
I smiled at his bewildered expression.
"When a gentleman of virile appearance enters my room with such tan
upon his face as an English sun could never give, and with his
handkerchief in his sleeve instead of in his pocket, it is not
difficult to place him. You wear a short beard, which shows that you
were not a regular. You have the cut of a riding-man. As to
Middlesex, your card has already shown me that you are a stockbroker
from Throgmorton Street. What other regiment would you join?"
"You see everything."
"I see no more than you, but I have trained myself to notice what I
see. However, Mr. Dodd, it was not to discuss the science of
observation that you called upon me this morning. What has been
happening at Tuxbury Old Park?"
"Mr. Holmes----!"
"My dear sir, there is no mystery. Your letter came with that heading,
and as you fixed this appointment in very pressing terms it was clear
that something sudden and important had occurred."
"Yes, indeed. But the letter was written in the afternoon, and a good
deal has happened since then. If Colonel Emsworth had not kicked me
out----"
"Kicked you out!"
"Well, that was what it amounted to. He is a hard nail, is Colonel
Emsworth. The greatest martinet in the Army in his day, and it was a
day of rough language, too. I couldn't have stuck the Colonel if it
had not been for Godfrey's sake."
I lit my pipe and leaned back in my chair.
"Perhaps you will explain what you are talking about."
My client grinned mischievously.
"I had got into the way of supposing that you knew everything without
being told," said he. "But I will give you the facts, and I hope to
God that you will be able to tell me what they mean. I've been awake
all night puzzling my brain, and the more I think the more incredible
does it become.
"When I joined up in January, 1901--just two years ago--young Godfrey
Emsworth had joined the same squadron. He was Colonel Emsworth's only
son--Emsworth, the Crimean V.C.--and he had the fighting blood in him,
so it is no wonder he volunteered. There was not a finer lad in the
regiment. We formed a friendship--the sort of friendship which can
only be made when one lives the same life and shares the same joys and
sorrows. He was my mate--and that means a good deal in the Army. We
took the rough and the smooth together for a year of hard fighting.
Then he was hit with a bullet from an elephant gun in the action near
Diamond Hill outside Pretoria. I got one letter from the hospital at
Cape Town and one from Southampton. Since then not a word--not one
word, Mr. Holmes, for six months and more, and he my closest pal.
"Well, when the war was over, and we all got back, I wrote to his
father and asked where Godfrey was. No answer. I waited a bit and
then I wrote again. This time I had a reply, short and gruff. Godfrey
had gone on a voyage round the world, and it was not likely that he
would be back for a year. That was all.
"I wasn't satisfied, Mr. Holmes. The whole thing seemed to me so
damned unnatural. He was a good lad and he would not drop a pal like
that. It was not like him. Then, again, I happened to know that he
was heir to a lot of money, and also that his father and he did not
always hit it off too well. The old man was sometimes a bully, and
young Godfrey had too much spirit to stand it. No, I wasn't satisfied,
and I determined that I would get to the root of the matter. It
happened, however, that my own affairs needed a lot of straightening
out, after two years' absence, and so it is only this week that I have
been able to take up Godfrey's case again. But since I have taken it
up I mean to drop everything in order to see it through."
Mr. James M. Dodd appeared to be the sort of person whom it would be
better to have as a friend than as an enemy. His blue eyes were stern
and his square jaw had set hard as he spoke.
"Well, what have you done?" I asked.
"My first move was to get down to his home, Tuxbury Old Park, near
Bedford, and to see for myself how the ground lay. I wrote to the
mother, therefore--I had had quite enough of the curmudgeon of a
father--and I made a clean frontal attack: Godfrey was my chum, I had a
great deal of interest which I might tell her of our common
experiences, I should be in the neighbourhood, would there be any
objection, et cetera? In reply I had quite an amiable answer from her
and an offer to put me up for the night. That was what took me down on
Monday.
"Tuxbury Old Hall is inaccessible--five miles from anywhere. There was
no trap at the station, so I had to walk, carrying my suit-case, and it
was nearly dark before I arrived. It is a great wandering house,
standing in a considerable park. I should judge it was of all sorts of
ages and styles, starting on a half-timbered Elizabethan foundation and
ending in a Victorian portico. Inside it was all panelling and
tapestry and half-effaced old pictures, a house of shadows and mystery.
There was a butler, old Ralph, who seemed about the same age as the
house and there was his wife, who might have been older. She had been
Godfrey's nurse, and I had heard him speak of her as second only to his
mother in his affections, so I was drawn to her in spite of her queer
appearance. The mother I liked also--a gentle little white mouse of a
woman. It was only the Colonel himself whom I barred.
"We had a bit of a barney right away, and I should have walked back to
the station if I had not felt that it might be playing his game for me
to do so. I was shown straight into his study, and there I found him,
a huge, bow-backed man with a smoky skin and a straggling grey beard,
seated behind his littered desk. A red-veined nose jutted out like a
vulture's beak, and two fierce grey eyes glared at me from under tufted
brows. I could understand now why Godfrey seldom spoke of his father.
"'Well, sir,' said he in a rasping voice. 'I should be interested to
know the real reasons for this visit.'
"I answered that I had explained them in my letter to his wife.
"'Yes, yes; you said that you had known Godfrey in Africa. We have, of
course, only your word for that.'
"'I have his letters to me in my pocket.'
"'Kindly let me see them.'
"He glanced at the two which I handed him, and then he tossed them back.
"'Well, what then?' he asked.
"'I was fond of your son Godfrey, sir. Many ties and memories united
us. Is it not natural that I should wonder at his sudden silence and
should wish to know what has become of him?'
"'I have some recollection, sir, that I had already corresponded with
you and had told you what had become of him. He has gone upon a voyage
round the world. His health was in a poor way after his African
experiences, and both his mother and I were of opinion that complete
rest and change were needed. Kindly pass that explanation on to any
other friends who may be interested in the matter.'
"'Certainly,' I answered. 'But perhaps you would have the goodness to
let me have the name of the steamer and of the line by which he sailed,
together with the date. I have no doubt that I should be able to get a
letter through to him.'
"My request seemed both to puzzle and to irritate my host. His great
eyebrows came down over his eyes and he tapped his fingers impatiently
on the table. He looked up at last with the expression of one who has
seen his adversary make a dangerous move at chess, and has decided how
to meet it.
"'Many people, Mr. Dodd,' said he, 'would take offence at your infernal
pertinacity and would think that this insistence had reached the point
of damned impertinence.'
"'You must put it down, sir, to my real love for your son.'
"'Exactly. I have already made every allowance upon that score. I
must ask you, however, to drop these inquiries. Every family has its
own inner knowledge and its own motives, which cannot always be made
clear to outsiders, however well-intentioned. My wife is anxious to
hear something of Godfrey's past which you are in a position to tell
her, but I would ask you to let the present and the future alone. Such
inquiries serve no useful purpose, sir, and place us in a delicate and
difficult position.'
"So I came to a dead end, Mr. Holmes. There was no getting past it. I
could only pretend to accept the situation and register a vow inwardly
that I would never rest until my friend's fate had been cleared up. It
was a dull evening. We dined quietly, the three of us, in a gloomy,
faded old room. The lady questioned me eagerly about her son, but the
old man seemed morose and depressed. I was so bored by the whole
proceeding that I made an excuse as soon as I decently could and
retired to my bedroom. It was a large, bare room on the ground floor,
as gloomy as the rest of the house, but after a year of sleeping upon
the veldt, Mr. Holmes, one is not too particular about one's quarters.
I opened the curtains and looked out into the garden, remarking that it
was a fine night with a bright half-moon. Then I sat down by the
roaring fire with the lamp on a table beside me, and endeavoured to
distract my mind with a novel. I was interrupted, however, by Ralph,
the old butler, who came in with a fresh supply of coals.
"'I thought you might run short in the night-time, sir. It is bitter
weather and these rooms are cold.'
"He hesitated before leaving the room, and when I looked round he was
standing facing me with a wistful look upon his wrinkled face.
"'Beg your pardon, sir, but I could not help hearing what you said of
young Master Godfrey at dinner. You know, sir, that my wife nursed
him, and so I may say I am his foster-father. It's natural we should
take an interest. And you say he carried himself well, sir?'
"'There was no braver man in the regiment. He pulled me out once from
under the rifles of the Boers, or maybe I should not be here.'
"The old butler rubbed his skinny hands.
"'Yes, sir, yes, that is Master Godfrey all over. He was always
courageous. There's not a tree in the park, sir, that he has not
climbed. Nothing would stop him. He was a fine boy--and oh, sir, he
was a fine man.'
"I sprang to my feet.
"'Look here!' I cried. 'You say he was. You speak as if he were dead.
What is all this mystery? What has become of Godfrey Emsworth?'
"I gripped the old man by the shoulder, but he shrank away.
"'I don't know what you mean, sir. Ask the master about Master
Godfrey. He knows. It is not for me to interfere.'
"He was leaving the room, but I held his arm.
"'Listen,' I said. 'You are going to answer one question before you
leave if I have to hold you all night. Is Godfrey dead?'
"He could not face my eyes. He was like a man hypnotized. The answer