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

complete."
    Lestrade caught my eye and winked.
    "They are complete enough for me!" he said with a grin. "They can't deceive me. That
    red-bearded doctor is a murdering devil. We know the man, and we know the motive."
    "Then why are you here?"
    "Because there is one thing lacking. We know he did it, right enough! But how did he do it?"
    No less than a dozen times did Lestrade ask the same question during the course of our
    journey, until it seemed to throb and echo in my head with the very click of the train wheels.
    It was a long, hot day and the afterglow of sunset lay on the crests of the softly rounded
    Somersetshire hills when we alighted at last at the little wayside station. On the hillside
    beyond the half-timbered gables of the village and set amid noble elm trees from whence, even
    at that distance, the clear evening air carried the cawing of the homing rooks, there shone a great
    white house.
    "We have a mile before us," said Lestrade sourly.
    "I should prefer not to go to the house at first," said Holmes. "Does this village run to an
    inn?"
    "There is the Camberwell Arms."
    "Then let us go there. I prefer to commence on neutral ground."
    "Really, Holmes!" cried Lestrade. "I cannot imagine—"
    "Precisely," remarked Holmes, and not another word would he utter until we were all
    ensconced in the private parlour of the ancient hostelry. Holmes scribbled a few lines in his
    note-book and tore out two leaves.
    "Now, Mr. Appley, if I might take the liberty of sending your groom with this note to
    Goodman's Rest and the other to Mr. Ainsworth?"
    "By all means."
    "Excellent. Then we have time for a pipe before Miss Dolores and her fiance join us."
    For some time we sat in silence, each busy with his own thoughts. As for myself, I had
    too much confidence in my friend to accept the obvious at its face value so long as he
    appeared to be perplexed in his own mind.
    "Well, Mr. Holmes," said Lestrade sternly, at last. "You have been sufficiently
    mysterious to satisfy even Dr. Watson here. Let us have your theory."
    "I have no theory. I am merely sounding my facts."
    "Your facts have overlooked the criminal."
    "That remains to be seen. By the way, Vicar, what are the relations between Miss Dolores
    and your nephew?"
    "It is strange that you should mention this," replied Mr. Appley. "Their relationship has
    been a source of pain to me for some time past. But in justice I must add that the fault lies
    with the young lady. For no reason, she is gratuitously offensive to him. Worst of all, she shows
    her dislike in public."
    "Ah! And Mr. Ainsworth?"
    "Ainsworth is too good a fellow not to deplore his fiancée's behaviour to my nephew. He
    takes it almost as a personal affront."
    "Indeed. Most praiseworthy. But here, unless I am much mistaken, are our visitors."
    The old door creaked open and a tall, graceful girl swept into the room. Her dark eyes,
    glowing with an unnatural brilliance, turned from one to the other of us with a long,
    searching glance that had in it a glint of animosity and something more of despair. A slim,
    fair-haired young man with a fresh complexion and a pair of singularly clear, shrewd blue
    eyes followed behind her and greeted Appley with a friendly word.
    "Which of you is Mr. Sherlock Holmes?" cried the young lady. "Ah, yes. You have
    uncovered fresh evidence, I imagine?"
    "I have come to hear it, Miss Dale. Indeed, I have heard everything except what actually
    happened on the night your uncle—died."
    "You stress the word 'died,' Mr. Holmes."
    "But hang it all, my dear, what else could he say?" asked young Ainsworth, with an
    attempt at a laugh. "You have probably got a lot of superstitious nonsense in your head because
    the thunder-storm on Tuesday night upset your uncle. But it was over before he was dead."
    "How do you know that?"
    "Dr. Griffin said that he didn't die until about three o'clock in the morning. Anyway, he
    was all right in the early hours!"
    "You seem very sure."
    The young man looked