The Return of Sherlock Holmes
well-known as your powers, and you are the one man in the world
who can help me. I beg you, Mr. Holmes, to do what you can.”
My friend’s temper had not improved since he had been deprived of
the congenial surroundings of Baker Street. Without his
scrapbooks, his chemicals, and his homely untidiness, he was an
uncomfortable man. He shrugged his shoulders in ungracious
acquiescence, while our visitor in hurried words and with much
excitable gesticulation poured forth his story.
“I must explain to you, Mr. Holmes, that to-morrow is the first
day of the examination for the Fortescue Scholarship. I am one of
the examiners. My subject is Greek, and the first of the papers
consists of a large passage of Greek translation which the
candidate has not seen. This passage is printed on the
examination paper, and it would naturally be an immense advantage
if the candidate could prepare it in advance. For this reason,
great care is taken to keep the paper secret.
“To-day, about three o’clock, the proofs of this paper arrived
from the printers. The exercise consists of half a chapter of
Thucydides. I had to read it over carefully, as the text must be
absolutely correct. At four-thirty my task was not yet completed.
I had, however, promised to take tea in a friend’s rooms, so I
left the proof upon my desk. I was absent rather more than an
hour.
“You are aware, Mr. Holmes, that our college doors are double—a
green baize one within and a heavy oak one without. As I
approached my outer door, I was amazed to see a key in it. For an
instant I imagined that I had left my own there, but on feeling
in my pocket I found that it was all right. The only duplicate
which existed, so far as I knew, was that which belonged to my
servant, Bannister—a man who has looked after my room for ten
years, and whose honesty is absolutely above suspicion. I found
that the key was indeed his, that he had entered my room to know
if I wanted tea, and that he had very carelessly left the key in
the door when he came out. His visit to my room must have been
within a very few minutes of my leaving it. His forgetfulness
about the key would have mattered little upon any other occasion,
but on this one day it has produced the most deplorable
consequences.
“The moment I looked at my table, I was aware that someone had
rummaged among my papers. The proof was in three long slips. I
had left them all together. Now, I found that one of them was
lying on the floor, one was on the side table near the window,
and the third was where I had left it.”
Holmes stirred for the first time.
“The first page on the floor, the second in the window, the third
where you left it,” said he.
“Exactly, Mr. Holmes. You amaze me. How could you possibly know
that?”
“Pray continue your very interesting statement.”
“For an instant I imagined that Bannister had taken the
unpardonable liberty of examining my papers. He denied it,
however, with the utmost earnestness, and I am convinced that he
was speaking the truth. The alternative was that someone passing
had observed the key in the door, had known that I was out, and
had entered to look at the papers. A large sum of money is at
stake, for the scholarship is a very valuable one, and an
unscrupulous man might very well run a risk in order to gain an
advantage over his fellows.
“Bannister was very much upset by the incident. He had nearly
fainted when we found that the papers had undoubtedly been
tampered with. I gave him a little brandy and left him collapsed
in a chair, while I made a most careful examination of the room.
I soon saw that the intruder had left other traces of his
presence besides the rumpled papers. On the table in the window
were several shreds from a pencil which had been sharpened. A
broken tip of lead was lying there also. Evidently the rascal had
copied the paper in a great hurry, had broken his pencil, and had
been compelled to put a fresh point to it.”
“Excellent!” said Holmes, who was recovering his good-humour as
his attention became more engrossed by the case. “Fortune has
been your friend.”
“This was not all. I have a new writing-table with a fine surface
of red leather. I am prepared to swear, and so is Bannister, that
it was smooth and unstained. Now I found a clean cut in it about
three inches long—not a mere scratch, but a positive cut. Not
only this, but on the table I found a small ball of black dough
or clay, with specks of something which looks like sawdust in it.
I am convinced that these marks were left by the man who rifled
the papers. There were no footmarks and no other evidence as to
his identity. I was at my wits’ end, when suddenly the happy
thought occurred to me that you were in the town, and I came
straight round to put the matter into your hands. Do help me, Mr.
Holmes. You see my dilemma. Either I must find the man or else
the examination must be postponed until fresh papers are
prepared, and since this cannot be done without explanation,
there will ensue a hideous scandal, which will throw a cloud not
only on the college, but on the university. Above all things, I
desire to settle the matter quietly and discreetly.”
“I shall be happy to look into it and to give you such advice as
I can,” said Holmes, rising and putting on his overcoat. “The
case is not entirely devoid of interest. Had anyone visited you
in your room after the papers came to you?”
“Yes, young Daulat Ras, an Indian student, who lives on the same
stair, came in to ask me some particulars about the examination.”
“For which he was entered?”
“Yes.”
“And the papers were on your table?”
“To the best of my belief, they were rolled up.”
“But might be recognized as proofs?”
“Possibly.”
“No one else in your room?”
“No.”
“Did anyone know that these proofs would be there?”
“No one save the printer.”
“Did this man Bannister know?”
“No, certainly not. No one knew.”
“Where is Bannister now?”
“He was very ill, poor fellow. I left him collapsed in the chair.
I was in such a hurry to come to you.”
“You left your door open?”
“I locked up the papers first.”
“Then it amounts to this, Mr. Soames: that, unless the Indian
student recognized the roll as being proofs, the man who tampered
with them came upon them accidentally without knowing that they
were there.”
“So it seems to me.”
Holmes gave an enigmatic smile.
“Well,” said he, “let us go round. Not one of your cases,
Watson—mental, not physical. All right; come if you want to. Now,
Mr. Soames—at your disposal!”
The sitting-room of our client opened by a long, low, latticed
window on to the ancient lichen-tinted court of the old college.
A Gothic arched door led to a worn stone staircase. On the ground
floor was the tutor’s room. Above were three students, one on
each story. It was already twilight when we reached the scene of
our problem. Holmes halted and looked earnestly at the window.
Then he approached it, and, standing on tiptoe with his neck
craned, he looked into the room.
“He must have entered through the door. There is no opening
except the one pane,” said our learned guide.
“Dear me!” said Holmes, and he smiled in a singular way as he
glanced at our companion. “Well, if there is nothing to be
learned here, we had best go inside.”
The lecturer unlocked the outer door and ushered us into his
room. We stood at the entrance while Holmes made an examination
of the carpet.
“I am afraid there are no signs here,” said he. “One could hardly
hope for any upon so dry a day. Your servant seems to have quite
recovered. You left him in a chair, you say. Which chair?”
“By the window there.”
“I see. Near this little table. You can come in now. I have
finished with the carpet. Let us take the little table first. Of
course, what has happened is very clear. The man entered and took
the papers, sheet by sheet, from the central table. He carried
them over to the window table, because from there he could see if
you came across the courtyard, and so could effect an escape.”
“As a matter of fact, he could not,” said Soames, “for I entered
by the side door.”
“Ah, that’s good! Well, anyhow, that was in his mind. Let me see
the three strips. No finger impressions—no! Well, he carried over
this one first, and he copied it. How long would it take him to
do that, using every possible contraction? A quarter of an hour,
not less. Then he tossed it down and seized the next. He was in
the midst of that when your return caused him to make a very
hurried retreat—_very_ hurried, since he had not time to replace
the papers which would tell you that he had been there. You were
not aware of any hurrying feet on the stair as you entered the
outer door?”
“No, I can’t say I was.”
“Well, he wrote so furiously that he broke his pencil, and had,
as you observe, to sharpen it again. This is of interest, Watson.
The pencil was not an ordinary one. It was above the usual size,
with a soft lead, the outer colour was dark blue, the maker’s
name was printed in silver lettering, and the piece remaining is
only about an inch and a half long. Look for such a pencil, Mr.
Soames, and you have got your man. When I add that he possesses a
large and very blunt knife, you have an additional aid.”
Mr. Soames was somewhat overwhelmed by this flood of information.
“I can follow the other points,” said he, “but really, in this
matter of the length——”
Holmes held out a small chip with the letters NN and a space of
clear wood after them.
“You see?”
“No, I fear that even now——”
“Watson, I have always done you an injustice. There are others.
What could this NN be? It is at the end of a word. You are aware
that Johann Faber is the most common maker’s name. Is it not
clear that there is just as much of the pencil left as usually
follows the Johann?” He held the small table sideways to the
electric light. “I was hoping that if the paper on which he wrote
was thin, some trace of it might come through upon this polished
surface. No, I see nothing. I don’t think there is anything more
to be learned here. Now for the central table. This small pellet
is, I presume, the black, doughy mass you spoke of. Roughly
pyramidal in shape and hollowed out, I perceive. As you say,
there appear to be grains of sawdust in it. Dear me, this is very
interesting. And the cut—a positive tear, I see. It began with a
thin scratch and ended in a jagged hole. I am much indebted to
you for directing my attention to this case, Mr. Soames. Where
does that door lead to?”
“To my bedroom.”
“Have you been in it since your adventure?”
“No, I came straight away for you.”