Holmes—large beyond the belief of an ordinary man. I can makeor break—and it is usually break. It wasn’t individuals only. It wascommunities, cities, even nations. Business is a hard game, and theweak go to the wall. I played the game for all it was worth. I neversquealed myself, and I never cared if the other fellow squealed. Butshe saw it different. I guess she was right. She believed and saidthat a fortune for one man that was more than he needed shouldnot be built on ten thousand ruined men who were left withoutthe means of life. That was how she saw it, and I guess she couldsee past the dollars to something that was more lasting. She foundthat I listened to what she said, and she believed she was servingthe world by influencing my actions. So she stayed—and then thiscame along.”
“Can you throw any light upon that?”
The Gold King paused for a minute or more, his head sunk inhis hands, lost in deep thought.
“It’s very black against her. I can’t deny that. And women leadan inward life and may do things beyond the judgment of a man.
At first I was so rattled and taken aback that I was ready to thinkshe had been led away in some extraordinary fashion that wasclean against her usual nature. One explanation came into myhead. I give it to you, Mr. Holmes, for what it is worth. There isno doubt that my wife was bitterly jealous. There is a soul-jealousythat can be as frantic as any body-jealousy, and though my wifehad no cause—and I think she understood this—for the latter,she was aware that this English girl exerted an influence upon mymind and my acts that she herself never had. It was an influencefor good, but that did not mend the matter. She was crazy withhatred and the heat of the Amazon was always in her blood. Shemight have planned to murder Miss Dunbar—or we will say tothreaten her with a gun and so frighten her into leaving us. Thenthere might have been a scuffle and the gun gone off and shot thewoman who held it.”
“That possibility had already occurred to me,” said Holmes.
Indeed, it is the only obvious alternative to deliberate murder.”
“But she utterly denies it.”
“Well, that is not final—is it? One can understand that awoman placed in so awful a position might hurry home still inher bewilderment holding the revolver. She might even throw itdown among her clothes, hardly knowing what she was doing,and when it was found she might try to lie her way out by a totalThe Case Book of Sherlock Holmes 1335
denial, since all explanation was impossible. What is against such asupposition?”
“Miss Dunbar herself.”
“Well, perhaps.”
Holmes looked at his watch. “I have no doubt we can get thenecessary permits this morning and reach Winchester by theevening train. When I have seen this young lady it is very possiblethat I may be of more use to you in the matter, though I cannotpromise that my conclusions will necessarily be such as youdesire.”
There was some delay in the official pass, and instead ofreaching Winchester that day we went down to Thor Place, theHampshire estate of Mr. Neil Gibson. He did not accompany ushimself, but we had the address of Sergeant Coventry, of the localpolice, who had first examined into the affair. He was a tall, thin,cadaverous man, with a secretive and mysterious manner whichconveyed the idea that he knew or suspected a very great dealmore than he dared say. He had a trick, too, of suddenly sinkinghis voice to a whisper as if he had come upon something of vitalimportance, though the information was usually commonplaceenough. Behind these tricks of manner he soon showed himself tobe a decent, honest fellow who was not too proud to admit that hewas out of his depth and would welcome any help.
“Anyhow, I’d rather have you than Scotland Yard, Mr. Holmes,”
said he. “If the Yard gets called into a case, then the local loses allcredit for success and may be blamed for failure. Now, you playstraight, so I’ve heard.”
“I need not appear in the matter at all,” said Holmes to theevident relief of our melancholy acquaintance. “If I can clear it upI don’t ask to have my name mentioned.”
“Well, it’s very handsome of you, I am sure. And your friend,Dr. Watson, can be trusted, I know. Now, Mr. Holmes, as we walkdown to the place there is one question I should like to ask you.
I’d breathe it to no soul but you.” He looked round as though hehardly dare utter the words. “Don’t you think there might be acase against Mr. Neil Gibson himself?”
“I have been considering that.”
“You’ve not seen Miss Dunbar. She is a wonderful fine woman inevery way. He may well have wished his wife out of the road. Andthese Americans are readier with pistols than our folk are. It washis pistol, you know.”
“Was that clearly made out?”
“Yes, sir. It was one of a pair that he had.”
“One of a pair? Where is the other?”
The Complete Sherlock Holmes
“Well, the gentleman has a lot of firearms of one sort andanother. We never quite matched that particular pistol—but thebox was made for two.”
“If it was one of a pair you should surely be able to match it.”
“Well, we have them all laid out at the house if you would careto look them over.”
“Later, perhaps. I think we will walk down together and have alook at the scene of the tragedy.”
This conversation had taken place in the little front room ofSergeant Coventry’s humble cottage which served as the localpolice-station. A walk of half a mile or so across a wind-sweptheath, all gold and bronze with the fading ferns, brought us toside-gate opening into the grounds of the Thor Place estate.
path led us through the pheasant preserves, and then from aclearing we saw the widespread, half-timbered house, half Tudorand half Georgian, upon the crest of the hill. Beside us there was along, reedy pool, constricted in the centre where the main carriagedrive passed over a stone bridge, but swelling into small lakes oneither side. Our guide paused at the mouth of this bridge, and hepointed to the ground.
“That was where Mrs. Gibson’s body lay. I marked it by thatstone.”
“I understand that you were there before it was moved?”
