The Exploits of Sherlock Holmes by John Dickson Carr, Adrian Conan Doyle Read Free Book Online

As his hard blue eyes fell on
    Mr. Appley, he paused on the threshold with a growl of surprise.
    "You have a certain gift, Lestrade, for timing your appearances with a pleasant touch
    of the dramatic," observed Holmes languidly.
    "And very awkward for some folk," remarked the detective, depositing his hat beside the
    gasogene. "Well, from the presence of this reverend gentleman I take it that you are up to date
    with this cosy little murder in Somerset. The facts are pretty obvious and all point one way as
    clear as signposts, eh, Mr. Holmes!"
    "Unfortunately, signposts are so easily turned in the opposite direction," said Holmes; "a
    truism of which I have given you one or two small demonstrations in the past, Lestrade."
    The Scotland Yard man flushed angrily. "Well, well, Mr. Holmes, that's as may be. But
    there is no doubt this time. There are both the motive and the opportunity. We know the
    man and it only remains to find the means."
    "I tell you that my unfortunate nephew—!" broke in the clergyman distractedly.
    "I have named no names."
    "But you have made it obvious from the moment you heard he was Trelawney's
    doctor! Admittedly he stands to benefit under that deplorable will."
    "You have forgotten to mention his personal reputation, Mr. Appley," said Lestrade grimly.
    "Wild, yes; romantic, hot-headed if you like! But a cold-blooded murderer—never! I have
    known him from his cradle."
    "Well, we shall see. Mr. Holmes, I would value a word with you."
    During this interchange between our unhappy client and Lestrade, Holmes had been
    staring at the ceiling with that far-away, dreamy look upon his face which I had noted only
    on those occasions when his mind whispered that some subtle thread of evidence was already
    there to hand, but buried as yet in the maze of obvious facts and no less obvious suspicions.
    He rose abruptly and turned to the vicar.
    "I take it that you return to Somerset this afternoon?"
    "By the 2:30 from Paddington." There was a tinge of colour in his face as he leapt to
    his feet. "Am I then to understand, my dear Mr. Holmes—?"
    "Dr. Watson and I will accompany you. If you will have the kindness to ask Mrs. Hudson
    to whistle a cab, Mr. Appley?"
    Our client clattered down the stairs.
    "This is a somewhat curious affair," said Holmes, filling his travelling-pouch with shag from
    the Persian slipper.
    "I am glad that at last you see it in that light, my dear fellow," I remarked, "for it did seem to
    me that you were a little impatient from the first with the worthy vicar, especially when he
    strayed into his early medical ambitions and the probability that he would absent-mindedly
    have removed a patient's gall-stones."
    The effect of this casual remark was extraordinary. After looking fixedly into space,
    Holmes sprang to his feet.
    "By Jove!" he exclaimed. "By Jove!"
    There was a touch of colour in his high cheekbones and that sudden gleam in his eyes
    that I knew of old.
    "As usual, Watson, your help has been invaluable," he went on warmly. "Though not
    yourself luminous, you are a conductor of light."
    "I have helped you? By mentioning the vicar's gallstones?"
    "Precisely."
    "Really, Holmes!"
    "At the moment, I must find a certain surname. Yes, unquestionably I must find a certain
    surname. Will you hand me the commonplace book under the letter 'B'?".
    I had given him the bulky volume, one of many in which he pasted press-cuttings of any
    incidents arresting his attention, before I had time to reflect.
    "But, Holmes, there is no one in this affair whose surname begins with a 'B'!"
    "Quite so. I was aware of it. B-a, Ba-r, Bartlett! H'm! Ha! Good old index."
    After a short perusal, turning over the pages eagerly, Holmes closed the book with a bang
    and sat tapping its cover with his long, nervous fingers. Behind him, the tubes and beakers
    and retorts of the chemical table glittered in the sunlight.
    "I had not all the data, of course," he added musingly. "Even now they are not