Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes

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Book by Arthur C. Doyle - Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, page 4

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surmise, and stated as baldly as possible. I shall
now recapitulate what the police have done in the
matter.

"Inspector Gregory, to whom the case has been
committed, is an extremely competent officer. Were he
but gifted with imagination he might rise to great
heights in his profession. On his arrival he promptly
found and arrested the man upon whom suspicion
naturally rested. There was little difficulty in
finding him, for he inhabited one of those villas
which I have mentioned. His name, it appears, was
Fitzroy Simpson. He was a man of excellent birth and
education, who had squandered a fortune upon the turf,
and who lived now by doing a little quiet and genteel
book-making in the sporting clubs of London. An
examination of his betting-book shows that bets to the
amount of five thousand pounds had been registered by
him against the favorite. On being arrested he
volunteered that statement that he had come down to
Dartmoor in the hope of getting some information about
the King's Pyland horses, and also about Desborough,
the second favorite, which was in charge of Silas
Brown at the Mapleton stables. He did not attempt to
deny that he had acted as described upon the evening
before, but declared that he had no sinister designs,
and had simply wished to obtain first-hand
information. When confronted with his cravat, he
turned very pale, and was utterly unable to account
for its presence in the hand of the murdered man. His
wet clothing showed that he had been out in the storm
of the night before, and his stick, which was a
Penang-lawyer weighted with lead, was just such a
weapon as might, by repeated blows, have inflicted the
terrible injuries to which the trainer had succumbed.
On the other hand, there was no wound upon his person,
while the state of Straker's knife would show that one
at least of his assailants must bear his mark upon
him. There you have it all in a nutshell, Watson, and
if you can give me any light I shall be infinitely
obliged to you."

I had listened with the greatest interest to the
statement which Holmes, with characteristic clearness,
had laid before me. Though most of the facts were
familiar to me, I had not sufficiently appreciated
their relative importance, nor their connection to
each other.

"Is in not possible," I suggested, "that the incised
would upon Straker may have been caused by his own
knife in the convulsive struggles which follow any
brain injury?"

"It is more than possible; it is probable," said
Holmes. "In that case one of the main points in favor
of the accused disappears."

"And yet," said I, "even now I fail to understand what
the theory of the police can be."

"I am afraid that whatever theory we state has very
grave objections to it," returned my companion. "The
police imagine, I take it, that this Fitzroy Simpson,
having drugged the lad, and having in some way
obtained a duplicate key, opened the stable door and
took out the horse, with the intention, apparently, of
kidnapping him altogether. His bridle is missing, so
that Simpson must have put this on. Then, having left
the door open behind him, he was leading the horse
away over the moor, when he was either met or
overtaken by the trainer. A row naturally ensued.
Simpson beat out the trainer's brains with his heavy
stick without receiving any injury from the small
knife which Straker used in self-defence, and then the
thief either led the horse on to some secret
hiding-place, or else it may have bolted during the
struggle, and be now wandering out on the moors. That
is the case as it appears to the police, and
improbable as it is, all other explanations are more
improbable still. However, I shall very quickly test
the matter when I am once upon the spot, and until
then I cannot really see how we can get much further
than our present position."

It was evening before we reached the little town of
Tavistock, which lies, like the boss of a shield, in
the middle of the huge circle of Dartmoor. Two
gentlemen were awaiting us in the station--the one a
tall, fair man with lion-like hair and beard and
curiously penetrating light blue eyes; the other a
small, alert person, very neat and dapper, in a
frock-coat and gaiters, with trim little side-whiskers
and an eye-glass. The latter was Colonel Ross, the
well-known sportsman; the other, Inspector Gregory, a
man who was rapidly making his name in the English
detective service.

"I am delighted that you have come down, Mr. Holmes,"
said the Colonel. "The Inspector here has done all
that could possibly be suggested, but I wish to leave
no stone unturned in trying to avenge poor Straker and
in recovering my horse."

"Have there been any fresh developments?" asked
Holmes.

"I am sorry to say that we have made very little
progress," said the Inspector. "We have an open
carriage outside, and as you would no doubt like to
see the place before the light fails, we might talk it
over as we drive."

A minute later we were all seated in a comfortable
landau, and were rattling through the quaint old
Devonshire city. Inspector Gregory was full of his
case, and poured out a stream of remarks, while Holmes
threw in an occasional question or interjection.
Colonel Ross leaned back with his arms folded and his
hat tilted over his eyes, while I listened with
interest to the dialogue of the two detectives.
Gregory was formulating his theory, which was almost
exactly what Holmes had foretold in the train.

"The net is drawn pretty close round Fitzroy Simpson,"
he remarked, "and I believe myself that he is our man.
At the same time I recognize that the evidence is
purely circumstantial, and that some new development
may upset it."

"How about Straker's knife?"

"We have quite come to the conclusion that he wounded
himself in his fall."

"My friend Dr. Watson made that suggestion to me as we
came down. If so, it would tell against this man
Simpson."

"Undoubtedly. He has neither a knife nor any sign of
a wound. The evidence against him is certainly very
strong. He had a great interest in the disappearance
of the favorite. He lies under suspicion of having
poisoned the stable-boy, he was undoubtedly out in the
storm, he was armed with a heavy stick, and his cravat
was found in the dead man's hand. I really think we
have enough to go before a jury."

Holmes shook his head. "A clever counsel would tear
it all to rags," said he. "Why should he take the
horse out of the stable? If he wished to injure it
why could he not do it there? Has a duplicate key
been found in his possession? What chemist sold him
the powdered opium? Above all, where could he, a
stranger to the district, hide a horse, and such a
horse as this? What is his own explanation as to the
paper which he wished the maid to give to the
stable-boy?"

"He says that it was a ten-pound note. One was found
in his purse. But your other difficulties are not so
formidable as they seem. He is not a stranger to the
district. He has twice lodged at Tavistock in the
summer. The opium was probably brought from London.
The key, having served its purpose, would be hurled
away. The horse may be at the bottom of one of the
pits or old mines upon the moor."

"What does he say about the cravat?"

"He acknowledges that it is his, and declares that he
had lost it. But a new element has been introduced
into the case which may account for his leading the
horse from the stable."

Holmes pricked up his ears.

"We have found traces which show that a party of
gypsies encamped on Monday night within a mile of the
spot where the murder took place. On Tuesday they
were gone. Now, presuming that there was some
understanding between Simpson and these gypsies, might
he not have been leading the horse to them when he was
overtaken, and may they not have him now?"

"It is certainly possible."

"The moor is being scoured for these gypsies. I have
also examined every stable and out-house in Tavistock,
and for a radius of ten miles."

"There is another training-stable quite close, I
understand?"

"Yes, and that is a factor which we must certainly not
neglect. As Desborough, their horse, was second in
the betting, they had an interest in the disappearance
of the favorite. Silas Brown, the trainer, is known
to have had large bets upon the event, and he was no
friend to poor Straker. We have, however, examined

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