Our official detectives may blunder in the matter of intelligence,but never in that of courage. Gregson climbed the stair to arrestthis desperate murderer with the same absolutely quiet andbusinesslike bearing with which he would have ascended theofficial staircase of Scotland Yard. The Pinkerton man had tried topush past him, but Gregson had firmly elbowed him back. Londondangers were the privilege of the London force.
The door of the left-hand flat upon the third landing wasstanding ajar. Gregson pushed it open. Within all was absolutesilence and darkness. I struck a match and lit the detective’slantern. As I did so, and as the flicker steadied into a flame, we allgave a gasp of surprise. On the deal boards of the carpetless floorthere was outlined a fresh track of blood. The red steps pointedtowards us and led away from an inner room, the door of whichwas closed. Gregson flung it open and held his light full blaze infront of him, while we all peered eagerly over his shoulders.
In the middle of the floor of the empty room was huddledthe figure of an enormous man, his clean-shaven, swarthy facegrotesquely horrible in its contortion and his head encircled byghastly crimson halo of blood, lying in a broad wet circle uponthe white woodwork. His knees were drawn up, his hands thrownout in agony, and from the centre of his broad, brown, upturnedthroat there projected the white haft of a knife driven blade-deepinto his body. Giant as he was, the man must have gone down likepole-axed ox before that terrific blow. Beside his right hand amost formidable horn-handled, two-edged dagger lay upon thefloor, and near it a black kid glove.
“By George! it’s Black Gorgiano himself!” cried the Americandetective. “Someone has got ahead of us this time.”
“Here is the candle in the window, Mr. Holmes,” said Gregson.
Why, whatever are you doing?”
Holmes had stepped across, had lit the candle, and was passingbackward and forward across the window-panes. Then hepeered into the darkness, blew the candle out, and threw it on thefloor.
“I rather think that will be helpful,” said he. He came over andstood in deep thought while the two professionals were examiningthe body. “You say that three people came out form the flat whileyou were waiting downstairs,” said he at last. “Did you observethem closely?”
“Yes, I did.”
“Was there a fellow about thirty, black-bearded, dark, of middlesize?”
“Yes; he was the last to pass me.”
The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge 1141
“That is your man, I fancy. I can give you his deion, andwe have a very excellent outline of his footmark. That should beenough for you.”
“Not much, Mr. Holmes, among the millions of London.”
“Perhaps not. That is why I thought it best to summon this ladyto your aid.”
We all turned round at the words. There, framed in the doorway,was a tall and beautiful woman—the mysterious lodger ofBloomsbury. Slowly she advanced, her face pale and drawn witha frightful apprehension, her eyes fixed and staring, her terrifiedgaze riveted upon the dark figure on the floor.
“You have killed him!” she muttered. “Oh, Dio mio, you havekilled him!” Then I heard a sudden sharp intake of her breath,and she sprang into the air with a cry of joy. Round and roundthe room she danced, her hands clapping, her dark eyes gleamingwith delighted wonder, and a thousand pretty Italian exclamationspouring from her lips. It was terrible and amazing to see such awoman so convulsed with joy at such a sight. Suddenly she stoppedand gazed at us all with a questioning stare.
“But you! You are police, are you not? You have killed GiuseppeGorgiano. Is it not so?”
“We are police, madam.”
She looked round into the shadows of the room.
“But where, then, is Gennaro?” she asked. “He is my husband,Gennaro Lucca. I am Emilia Lucca, and we are both from NewYork. Where is Gennaro? He called me this moment from thiswindow, and I ran with all my speed.”
“It was I who called,” said Holmes.
“You! How could you call?”
“Your cipher was not difficult, madam. Your presence here wasdesirable. I knew that I had only to flash ‘Vieni’ and you wouldsurely come.”
The beautiful Italian looked with awe at my companion.
“I do not understand how you know these things,” she said.
“Giuseppe Gorgiano—how did he—” She paused, and thensuddenly her face lit up with pride and delight. “Now I see it! MyGennaro! My splendid, beautiful Gennaro, who has guarded mesafe from all harm, he did it, with his own strong hand he killedthe monster! Oh, Gennaro, how wonderful you are! What womancould ever be worthy of such a man?”
“Well, Mrs. Lucca,” said the prosaic Gregson, laying his handupon the lady’s sleeve with as little sentiment as if she were aNotting Hill hooligan, “I am not very clear yet who you are orwhat you are; but you’ve said enough to make it very clear that weshall want you at the Yard.”
1142 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
“One moment, Gregson,” said Holmes. “I rather fancy that thislady may be as anxious to give us information as we can be to getit. You understand, madam, that your husband will be arrested andtried for the death of the man who lies before us? What you say maybe used in evidence. But if you think that he has acted from motiveswhich are not criminal, and which he would wish to have known,then you cannot serve him better than by telling us the whole story.”
“Now that Gorgiano is dead we fear nothing,” said the lady. “Hewas a devil and a monster, and there can be no judge in the worldwho would punish my husband for having killed him.”
“In that case,” said Holmes, “my suggestion is that we lock thisdoor, leave things as we found them, go with this lady to her room,and form our opinion after we have heard what it is that she has tosay to us.”
