for this unfortunate youngster who has thrown
himself upon my protection."
it was late when my friend returned, and i could see by a
glance at his haggard and anxious face that the high hopes
with which he had started had not been fulfilled. for an
hour he droned away upon his violin, endeavouring to soothe
his own ruffled spirits. at last he flung down the
instrument and plunged into a detailed account of his
misadventures.
"it's all going wrong, watson -- all as wrong as it can go.
i kept a bold face before lestrade, but, upon my soul, i
believe that for once the fellow is on the right track and
we are on the wrong. all my instincts are one way and all
the facts are the other, and i much fear that british
juries have not yet attained that pitch of intelligence
when they will give the preference to my theories over
lestrade's facts."
"did you go to blackheath?"
"yes, watson, i went there, and i found very quickly that
the late lamented oldacre was a pretty considerable
black-guard. the father was away in search of his son.
the mother was at home -- a little, fluffy, blue-eyed
person, in a tremor of fear and indignation. of course,
she would not admit even the possibility of his guilt.
but she would not express either surprise or regret over the
fate of oldacre. on the contrary, she spoke of him with
such bitterness that she was unconsciously considerably
strengthening the case of the police, for, of course, if
her son had heard her speak of the man in this fashion it
would predispose him towards hatred and violence. 'he was
more like a malignant and cunning ape than a human being,'
said she, 'and he always was, ever since he was a young man.'
"'you knew him at that time?' said i.
"'yes, i knew him well; in fact, he was an old suitor of
mine. thank heaven that i had the sense to turn away from
him and to marry a better, if a poorer, man. i was engaged
to him, mr. holmes, when i heard a shocking story of how he
had turned a cat loose in an aviary, and i was so horrified
at his brutal cruelty that i would have nothing more to do
with him.' she rummaged in a bureau, and presently she
produced a photograph of a woman, shamefully defaced and
mutilated with a knife. 'that is my own photograph,' she
said. 'he sent it to me in that state, with his curse,
upon my wedding morning.'
"'well,' said i, 'at least he has forgiven you now, since
he has left all his property to your son.'
"'neither my son nor i want anything from jonas oldacre,
dead or alive,' she cried, with a proper spirit. 'there is
a god in heaven, mr. holmes, and that same god who has
punished that wicked man will show in his own good time
that my son's hands are guiltless of his blood.'
"well, i tried one or two leads, but could get at nothing
which would help our hypothesis, and several points which
would make against it. i gave it up at last and off i went
to norwood.
"this place, deep dene house, is a big modern villa of
staring brick, standing back in its own grounds, with a
laurel-clumped lawn in front of it. to the right and some
distance back from the road was the timber-yard which had
been the scene of the fire. here's a rough plan on a leaf
of my note-book. this window on the left is the one which
opens into oldacre's room. you can look into it from the
road, you see. that is about the only bit of consolation i
have had to-day. lestrade was not there, but his head
constable did the honours. they had just made a great
treasure-trove. they had spent the morning raking among
the ashes of the burned wood-pile, and besides the charred
organic remains they had secured several discoloured metal
discs. i examined them with care, and there was no doubt
that they were trouser buttons. i even distinguished that
one of them was marked with the name of 'hyams,' who was
oldacre's tailor. i then worked the lawn very carefully
for signs and traces, but this drought has made everything
as hard as iron. nothing was to be seen save that some
body or bundle had been dragged through a low privet hedge
which is in a line with the wood-pile. all that, of
course, fits in with the official theory. i crawled about
the lawn with an august sun on my back, but i got up at
the end of an hour no wiser than before.
"well, after this fiasco i went into the bedroom and
examined that also. the blood-stains were very slight,
mere smears and discolorations, but undoubtedly fresh.
the stick had been removed, but there also the marks were
slight. there is no doubt about the stick belonging to our
client. he admits it. footmarks of both men could be made
out on the carpet, but none of any third person, which
again is a trick for the other side. they were piling up
their score all the time and we were at a standstill.
"only one little gleam of hope did i get -- and
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