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

at Holmes in obvious perplexity. "Of course I am. As Mr.
    Lestrade can tell you, I was in that room three times during the night. The squire asked me to
    go there."
    "Then be good enough to let me have the facts from the beginning. Perhaps, Miss Dale—?"
    "Very well, Mr. Holmes. On Tuesday night, my uncle asked my fiancé and Dr. Griffin to dine
    with us at Goodman's Rest. From the first, he was uneasy. I put it down to the far-off
    muttering of thunder; he loathed and feared storms. But now I am wondering whether his
    uneasiness lay in his mind or his conscience. Be that as it may, our nerves grew more and
    more tense as the evening went on, nor did Dr. Griffin's sense of humor improve matters when
    lightning struck a tree in the copse. 'I've got to drive home tonight,' he said, 'and I hope
    nothing happens to me in this storm.' Dr. Griffin is positively insufferable!
    " 'Well, I'm glad that I'm staying,' laughed Jeffrey; 'we are snug enough with the good old
    lightning-conductors.'
    "My uncle leaped from his chair.
    " 'You young fool!' he cried. 'Don't you know that there are none on this house?' And my
    uncle stood there shivering like a man out of his wits."
    "I couldn't imagine what I'd said," interrupted Ainsworth naively. "Then, when he flew off
    about his nightmares—"
    "Nightmares?" said Holmes.
    "Yes. He screeched out that he suffered from nightmares, and that this was no night for
    the human soul to be alone."
    "He grew calmer," continued Miss Dale, "when Jeffrey offered to look in once or twice
    during the night. It was really rather pitiful. My fiance went in—when was it, Jeffrey?"
    "Once at ten-thirty; once at midnight and finally at one in the morning."
    "Did you speak with him?" asked Sherlock Holmes.
    "No, he was asleep."
    "Then, how do you know that he was alive?"
    "Well, like many elderly people, the squire kept a night-light. It was a kind of rushlight
    burning blue in a bowl on the hearth. I couldn't see much, but I could hear his heavy
    breathing under the howl of the storm."
    "It was just after five on the following morning—" said Miss Dale, "when—I can't go on!"
    she burst out. "I can't!"
    "Gently, my dear," said Ainsworth, who was looking at her steadily. "Mr. Holmes, this has
    been a great strain on my fiancée."
    "Perhaps I may be permitted to continue," suggested the vicar. "Dawn was just breaking
    when I was roused by a heavy pounding on the vicarage door. A stableboy had been
    dispatched post-haste from Goodman's Rest with horrible news. It appears that the housemaid
    carried up the squire's morning tea as usual. On drawing the curtains, she screamed out in
    horror at beholding her master dead in the bed. Huddling in my clothes, I rushed to
    Goodman's Rest. When I entered the bedroom, followed by Dolores and Jeffrey, Dr.
    Griffin—who had been summoned first—had concluded his examination.
    " 'He has been dead for about two hours,' said the doctor. 'But for the life of me I can't
    understand how he died.'
    "I had moved round to the other side of the bed, composing myself to pray, when I caught
    sight of Trelawney's gold watch, gleaming in a ray of morning sunlight. The watch was a stem-
    winder, without a key. It lay on a small marble-topped table, amid a litter of patent-medicine
    bottles and liniment-bottles which diffused a strong odour in the stuffy room.
    "We are told that in times of crisis our minds will occupy themselves with trifles. This
    is so, else I cannot account for my own behaviour.
    "Fancying that the watch was not ticking, I lifted it to my ear. But it was ticking. I gave the
    stem two full turns until it was stopped by the spring; but, in any case, I should not have
    proceeded. The winding caused a harsh noise, cr-r-ack, which drew from Dolores an unnerving
    scream. I recall her exact words.
    " 'Vicar! Put it down! It is like—like a death-rattle.' "
    For a moment we sat in silence. Miss Dale turned away her head.
    "Mr. Holmes," said Ainsworth earnestly, "these wounds