Lestrade laughed loudly.
“You don’t like being beaten any more than the rest of us do,”
said he. “A man can’t expect always to have it his own way, can he,Dr. Watson? Step this way, if you please, gentlemen, and I think Ican convince you once for all that it was John McFarlane who didthis crime.”
He led us through the passage and out into a dark hall beyond.
“This is where young McFarlane must have come out to get hishat after the crime was done,” said he. “Now look at this.” Withdramatic suddenness he struck a match, and by its light exposedstain of blood upon the whitewashed wall. As he held the matchnearer, I saw that it was more than a stain. It was the well-markedprint of a thumb.
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“Look at that with your magnifying glass, Mr. Holmes.”
“Yes, I am doing so.”
“You are aware that no two thumb-marks are alike?”
“I have heard something of the kind.”
“Well, then, will you please compare that print with this waximpression of young McFarlane’s right thumb, taken by my ordersthis morning?”
As he held the waxen print close to the blood-stain, it did nottake a magnifying glass to see that the two were undoubtedly fromthe same thumb. It was evident to me that our unfortunate clientwas lost.
“That is final,” said Lestrade.
“Yes, that is final,” I involuntarily echoed.
“It is final,” said Holmes.
Something in his tone caught my ear, and I turned to look athim. An extraordinary change had come over his face. It waswrithing with inward merriment. His two eyes were shining likestars. It seemed to me that he was making desperate efforts torestrain a convulsive attack of laughter.
“Dear me! Dear me!” he said at last. “Well, now, who would havethought it? And how deceptive appearances may be, to be sure!
Such a nice young man to look at! It is a lesson to us not to trustour own judgment, is it not, Lestrade?”
“Yes, some of us are a little too much inclined to be cock-sure,Mr. Holmes,” said Lestrade. The man’s insolence was maddening,but we could not resent it.
“What a providential thing that this young man should press hisright thumb against the wall in taking his hat from the peg! Sucha very natural action, too, if you come to think of it.” Holmes wasoutwardly calm, but his whole body gave a wriggle of suppressedexcitement as he spoke.
“By the way, Lestrade, who made this remarkable discovery?”
“It was the housekeeper, Mrs. Lexington, who drew the nightconstable’s attention to it.”
“Where was the night constable?”
“He remained on guard in the bedroom where the crime wascommitted, so as to see that nothing was touched.”
“But why didn’t the police see this mark yesterday?”
“Well, we had no particular reason to make a careful examinationof the hall. Besides, it’s not in a very prominent place, as you see.”
“No, no—of course not. I suppose there is no doubt that themark was there yesterday?”
Lestrade looked at Holmes as if he thought he was going outof his mind. I confess that I was myself surprised both at hishilarious manner and at his rather wild observation.
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“I don’t know whether you think that McFarlane came out ofjail in the dead of the night in order to strengthen the evidenceagainst himself,” said Lestrade. “I leave it to any expert in theworld whether that is not the mark of his thumb.”
“It is unquestionably the mark of his thumb.”
“There, that’s enough,” said Lestrade. “I am a practical man,Mr. Holmes, and when I have got my evidence I come to myconclusions. If you have anything to say, you will find me writingmy report in the sitting-room.”
Holmes had recovered his equanimity, though I still seemed todetect gleams of amusement in his expression.
“Dear me, this is a very sad development, Watson, is it not?”
said he. “And yet there are singular points about it which hold outsome hopes for our client.”
“I am delighted to hear it,” said I, heartily. “I was afraid it wasall up with him.”
“I would hardly go so far as to say that, my dear Watson. Thefact is that there is one really serious flaw in this evidence towhich our friend attaches so much importance.”
“Indeed, Holmes! What is it?”
“Only this: that I konw that that mark was not there when Iexamined the hall yesterday. And now, Watson, let us have a littlestroll round in the sunshine.”
With a confused brain, but with a heart into which somewarmth of hope was returning, I accompanied my friend in a walkround the garden. Holmes took each face of the house in turn,and examined it with great interest. He then led the way inside,and went over the whole building from basement to attic. Most ofthe rooms were unfurnished, but none the less Holmes inspectedthem all minutely. Finally, on the top corridor, which ran outsidethree untenanted bedrooms, he again was seized with a spasm ofmerriment.
“There are really some very unique features about this case,Watson,” said he. “I think it is time now that we took our friendLestrade into our confidence. He has had his little smile at ourexpense, and perhaps we may do as much by him, if my reading ofthis problem proves to be correct. Yes, yes, I think I see how weshould approach it.”
The Scotland Yard inspector was still writing in the parlourwhen Holmes interrupted him.
“I understood that you were writing a report of this case,” saidhe.
“So I am.”
“Don’t you think it may be a little premature? I can’t helpthinking that your evidence is not complete.”
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Lestrade knew my friend too well to disregard his words. Helaid down his pen and looked curiously at him.
“What do you mean, Mr. Holmes?”
“Only that there is an important witness whom you have notseen.”
“Can you produce him?”
“I think I can.”
“Then do so.”
“I will do my best. How many constables have you?”
“There are three within call.”
“Excellent!” said Holmes. “May I ask if they are all large, ablebodiedmen with powerful voices?”
“I have no doubt they are, though I fail to see what their voiceshave to do with it.”
