



                              THE BLANCHED SOLDIER

                               Arthur Conan Doyle



     The ideas of my friend Watson, though limited, are exceedingly
     pertinacious. For a long time he has worried me to write an
     experience of my own. Perhaps I have rather invited this persecution,
     since I have often had occasion to point out to him how superficial
     are his own accounts and to accuse him of pandering to popular taste
     instead of confining himself rigidly to facts and figures. "Try it
     yourself, Holmes!" he has retorted, and I am compelled to admit that,
     having taken my pen in my hand, I do begin to realize that the matter
     must be presented in such a way as may interest the reader. The
     following case can hardly fail to do so, as it is among the strangest
     happenings in my collection, though it chanced that Watson had no
     note of it in his collection. Speaking of my old friend and
     biographer, I would take this opportunity to remark that if I burden
     myself with a companion in my various little inquiries it is not done
     out of sentiment or caprice, but it is that Watson has some
     remarkable characteristics of his own to which in his modesty he has
     given small attention amid his exaggerated estimates of my own
     performances. A confederate who foresees your conclusions and course
     of action is always dangerous, but one to whom each development comes
     as a perpetual surprise, and to whom the future is always a closed
     book, is indeed an ideal helpmate.

     I find from my notebook that it was in January, 1903, just after the
     conclusion of the Boer War, that I had my visit from Mr. James M.
     Dodd, a big, fresh, sunburned, upstanding Briton. The good Watson had
     at that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I
     can recall in our association. I was alone.

     It is my habit to sit with my back to the window and to place my
     visitors in the opposite chair, where the light falls full upon them.
     Mr. James M. Dodd seemed somewhat at a loss how to begin the
     interview. I did not attempt to help him, for his silence gave me
     more time for observation. I have found it wise to impress clients
     with a sense of power, and so I gave him some of my conclusions.

     "From South Africa, sir, I perceive."

     "Yes, sir," he answered, with some surprise.

     "Imperial Yeomanry, I fancy."

     "Exactly."

     "Middlesex Corps, no doubt."

     "That is so. Mr. Holmes, you are a wizard."

     I smiled at his bewildered expression.

     "When a gentleman of virile appearance enters my room with such tan
     upon his face as an English sun could never give, and with his
     handkerchief in his sleeve instead of in his pocket, it is not
     difficult to place him. You wear a short beard, which shows that you
     were not a regular. You have the cut of a riding-man. As to
     Middlesex, your card has already shown me that you are a stockbroker
     from Throgmorton Street. What other regiment would you join?"

     "You see everything."

     "I see no more than you, but I have trained myself to notice what I
     see. However, Mr. Dodd, it was not to discuss the science of
     observation that you called upon me this morning. What has been
     happening at Tuxbury Old Park?"

     "Mr. Holmes--!"

     "My dear sir, there is no mystery. Your letter came with that
     heading, and as you fixed this appointment in very pressing terms it
     was clear that something sudden and important had occurred."

     "Yes, indeed. But the letter was written in the afternoon, and a good
     deal has happened since then. If Colonel Emsworth had not kicked me
     out--"

     "Kicked you out!"

     "Well, that was what it amounted to. He is a hard nail, is Colonel
     Emsworth. The greatest martinet in the Army in his day, and it was a
     day of rough language, too. I couldn't have stuck the colonel if it
     had not been for Godfrey's sake."

     I lit my pipe and leaned back in my chair.

     "Perhaps you will explain what you are talking about."

     My client grinned mischievously.

     "I had got into the way of supposing that you knew everything without
     being told," said he. "But I will give you the facts, and I hope to
     God that you will be able to tell me what they mean. I've been awake
     all night puzzling my brain, and the more I think the more incredible
     does it become.

     "When I joined up in January, 1901--just two years ago--young Godfrey
     Emsworth had joined the same squadron. He was Colonel Emsworth's only
     son--Emsworth, the Crimean V. C.--and he had the fighting blood in
     him, so it is no wonder he volunteered. There was not a finer lad in
     the regiment. We formed a friendship--the sort of friendship which
     can only be made when one lives the same life and shares the same
     joys and sorrows. He was my mate--and that means a good deal in the
     Army. We took the rough and the smooth together for a year of hard
     fighting. Then he was hit with a bullet from an elephant gun in the
     action near Diamond Hill outside Pretoria. I got one letter from the
     hospital at Cape Town and one from Southampton. Since then not a
     word--not one word, Mr. Holmes, for six months and more, and he my
     closest pal.

     "Well, when the war was over, and we all got back, I wrote to his
     father and asked where Godfrey was. No answer. I waited a bit and
     then I wrote again. This time I had a reply, short and gruff. Godfrey
     had gone on a voyage round the world, and it was not likely that he
     would be back for a year. That was all.

     "I wasn't satisfied, Mr. Holmes. The whole thing seemed to me so
     damned unnatural. He was a good lad, and he would not drop a pal like
     that. It was not like him. Then, again, I happened to know that he
     was heir to a lot of money, and also that his father and he did not
     always hit it off too well. The old man was sometimes a bully, and
     young Godfrey had too much spirit to stand it. No, I wasn't
     satisfied, and I determined that I would get to the root of the
     matter. It happened, however, that my own affairs needed a lot of
     straightening out, after two years' absence, and so it is only this
     week that I have been able to take up Godfrey's case again. But since
     I have taken it up I mean to drop everything in order to see it
     through."

     Mr. James M. Dodd appeared to be the sort of person whom it would be
     better to have as a friend than as an enemy. His blue eyes were stern
     and his square jaw had set hard as he spoke.

     "Well, what have you done?" I asked.

     "My first move was to get down to his home, Tuxbury Old Park, near
     Bedford, and to see for myself how the ground lay. I wrote to the
     mother, therefore--I had had quite enough of the curmudgeon of a
     father--and I made a clean frontal attack: Godfrey was my chum, I had
     a great deal of interest which I might tell her of our common
     experiences, I should be in the neighbourhood, would there be any
     objection, et cetera? In reply I had quite an amiable answer from her
     and an offer to put me up for the night. That was what took me down
     on Monday.

     "Tuxbury Old Hall is inaccessible--five miles from anywhere. There
     was no trap at the station, so I had to walk, carrying my suitcase,
     and it was nearly dark before I arrived. It is a great wandering
     house, standing in a considerable park. I should judge it was of all
     sorts of ages and styles, starting on a half-timbered Elizabethan
     foundation and ending in a Victorian portico. Inside it was all
     panelling and tapestry and half-effaced old pictures, a house of
     shadows and mystery. There was a butler, old Ralph, who seemed about
     the same age as the house, and there was his wife, who might have
     been older. She had been Godfrey's nurse, and I had heard him speak
     of her as second only to his mother in his affections, so I was drawn
     to her in spite of her queer appearance. The mother I liked also--a
     gentle little white mouse of a woman. It was only the colonel himself
     whom I barred.

     "We had a bit of barney right away, and I should have walked back to
     the station if I had not felt that it might be playing his game for
     me to do so. I was shown straight into his study, and there I found
     him, a huge, bow-backed man with a smoky skin and a straggling gray
     beard, seated behind his littered desk. A red-veined nose jutted out
     like a vulture's beak, and two fierce gray eyes glared at me from
     under tufted brows. I could understand now why Godfrey seldom spoke
     of his father.

     "'Well, sir,' said he in a rasping voice, 'I should be interested to
     know the real reasons for this visit.'

     "I answered that I had explained them in my letter to his wife.

     "'Yes, yes, you said that you had known Godfrey in Africa. We have,
     of course, only your word for that.'

     "'I have his letters to me in my pocket.'

     "'Kindly let me see them.'

     "He glanced at the two which I handed him, and then he tossed them
     back.

     "'Well, what then?' he asked.

     "'I was fond of your son Godfrey, sir. Many ties and memories united
     us. Is it not natural that I should wonder at his sudden silence and
     should wish to know what has become of him?'

     "'I have some recollections, sir, that I had already corresponded
     with you and had told you what had become of him. He has gone upon a
     voyage round the world. His health was in a poor way after his
     African experiences, and both his mother and I were of opinion that
     complete rest and change were needed. Kindly pass that explanation on
     to any other friends who may be interested in the matter.'

     "'Certainly,' I answered. 'But perhaps you would have the goodness to
     let me have the name of the steamer and of the line by which he
     sailed, together with the date. I have no doubt that I should be able
     to get a letter through to him.'

     "My request seemed both to puzzle and to irritate my host. His great
     eyebrows came down over his eyes, and he tapped his fingers
     impatiently on the table. He looked up at last with the expression of
     one who has seen his adversary make a dangerous move at chess, and
     has decided how to meet it.

     "'Many people, Mr. Dodd,' said he, 'would take offence at your
     infernal pertinacity and would think that this insistence had reached
     the point of damned impertinence.'

     "'You must put it down, sir, to my real love for your son.'

     "'Exactly. I have already made every allowance upon that score. I
     must ask you, however, to drop these inquiries. Every family has its
     own inner knowledge and its own motives, which cannot always be made
     clear to outsiders, however well-intentioned. My wife is anxious to
     hear something of Godfrey's past which you are in a position to tell
     her, but I would ask you to let the present and the future alone.
     Such inquiries serve no useful purpose, sir, and place us in a
     delicate and difficult position.'

     "So I came to a dead end, Mr. Holmes. There was no getting past it. I
     could only pretend to accept the situation and register a vow
     inwardly that I would never rest until my friend's fate had been
     cleared up. It was a dull evening. We dined quietly, the three of us,
     in a gloomy, faded old room. The lady questioned me eagerly about her
     son, but the old man seemed morose and depressed. I was so bored by
     the whole proceeding that I made an excuse as soon as I decently
     could and retired to my bedroom. It was a large, bare room on the
     ground floor, as gloomy as the rest of the house, but after a year of
     sleeping upon the veldt, Mr. Holmes, one is not too particular about
     one's quarters. I opened the curtains and looked out into the garden,
     remarking that it was a fine night with a bright half-moon. Then I
     sat down by the roaring fire with the lamp on a table beside me, and
     endeavoured to distract my mind with a novel. I was interrupted,
     however, by Ralph, the old butler, who came in with a fresh supply of
     coals.

     "'I thought you might run short in the night-time, sir. It is bitter
     weather and these rooms are cold.'

     "He hesitated before leaving the room, and when I looked round he was
     standing facing me with a wistful look upon his wrinkled face.

     "'Beg your pardon, sir, but I could not help hearing what you said of
     young Master Godfrey at dinner. You know, sir, that my wife nursed
     him, and so I may say I am his foster-father. It's natural we should
     take an interest. And you say he carried himself well, sir?'

     "'There was no braver man in the regiment. He pulled me out once from
     under the rifles of the Boers, or maybe I should not be here.'

     "The old butler rubbed his skinny hands.

     "'Yes, sir, yes, that is Master Godfrey all over. He was always
     courageous. There's not a tree in the park, sir, that he has not
     climbed. Nothing would stop him. He was a fine boy--and oh, sir, he
     was a fine man.'

     "I sprang to my feet.

     "'Look here!' I cried. 'You say he was. You speak as if he were dead.
     What is all this mystery? What has become of Godfrey Emsworth?'

     "I gripped the old man by the shoulder, but he shrank away.

     "'I don't know what you mean, sir. Ask the master about Master
     Godfrey. He knows. It is not for me to interfere.'

     "He was leaving the room, but I held his arm.

     "'Listen,' I said. 'You are going to answer one question before you
     leave if I have to hold you all night. Is Godfrey dead?'

     "He could not face my eyes. He was like a man hypnotized. The answer
     was dragged from his lips. It was a terrible and unexpected one.

     "'I wish to God he was!' he cried, and, tearing himself free, he
     dashed from the room.

     "You will think, Mr. Holmes, that I returned to my chair in no very
     happy state of mind. The old man's words seemed to me to bear only
     one interpretation. Clearly my poor friend had become involved in
     some criminal or, at the least, disreputable transaction which
     touched the family honour. That stern old man had sent his son away
     and hidden him from the world lest some scandal should come to light.
     Godfrey was a reckless fellow. He was easily influenced by those
     around him. No doubt he had fallen into bad hands and been misled to
     his ruin. It was a piteous business, if it was indeed so, but even
     now it was my duty to hunt him out and see if I could aid him. I was
     anxiously pondering the matter when I looked up, and there was
     Godfrey Emsworth standing before me."

     My client had paused as one in deep emotion.

     "Pray continue," I said. "Your problem presents some very unusual
     features."

     "He was outside the window, Mr. Holmes, with his face pressed against
     the glass. I have told you that I looked out at the night. When I did
     so I left the curtains partly open. His figure was framed in this
     gap. The window came down to the ground and I could see the whole
     length of it, but it was his face which held my gaze. He was deadly
     pale--never have I seen a man so white. I reckon ghosts may look like
     that; but his eyes met mine, and they were the eyes of a living man.
     He sprang back when he saw that I was looking at him, and he vanished
     into the darkness.

     "There was something shocking about the man, Mr. Holmes. It wasn't
     merely that ghastly face glimmering as white as cheese in the
     darkness. It was more subtle than that--something slinking, something
     furtive, something guilty-- something very unlike the frank, manly
     lad that I had known. It left a feeling of horror in my mind.

     "But when a man has been soldiering for a year or two with brother
     Boer as a playmate, he keeps his nerve and acts quickly. Godfrey had
     hardly vanished before I was at the window. There was an awkward
     catch, and I was some little time before I could throw it up. Then I
     nipped through and ran down the garden path in the direction that I
     thought he might have taken.

     "It was a long path and the light was not very good, but it seemed to
     me something was moving ahead of me. I ran on and called his name,
     but it was no use. When I got to the end of the path there were
     several others branching in different directions to various
     outhouses. I stood hesitating, and as I did so I heard distinctly the
     sound of a closing door. It was not behind me in the house, but ahead
     of me, somewhere in the darkness. That was enough, Mr. Holmes, to
     assure me that what I had seen was not a vision. Godfrey had run away
     from me, and he had shut a door behind him. Of that I was certain.

     "There was nothing more I could do, and I spent an uneasy night
     turning the matter over in my mind and trying to find some theory
     which would cover the facts. Next day I found the colonel rather more
     conciliatory, and as his wife remarked that there were some places of
     interest in the neighbourhood, it gave me an opening to ask whether
     my presence for one more night would incommode them. A somewhat
     grudging acquiescence from the old man gave me a clear day in which
     to make my observations. I was already perfectly convinced that
     Godfrey was in hiding somewhere near, but where and why remained to
     be solved.

     "The house was so large and so rambling that a regiment might be hid
     away in it and no one the wiser. If the secret lay there it was
     difficult for me to penetrate it. But the door which I had heard
     close was certainly not in the house. I must explore the garden and
     see what I could find. There was no difficulty in the way, for the
     old people were busy in their own fashion and left me to my own
     devices.

     "There were several small outhouses, but at the end of the garden
     there was a detached building of some size--large enough for a
     gardener's or a gamekeeper's residence. Could this be the place
     whence the sound of that shutting door had come? I approached it in a
     careless fashion as though I were strolling aimlessly round the
     grounds. As I did so, a small, brisk, bearded man in a black coat and
     bowler hat--not at all the gardener type--came out of the door. To my
     surprise, he locked it after him and put the key in his pocket. Then
     he looked at me with some surprise on his face.

     "'Are you a visitor here?' he asked.

     "I explained that I was and that I was a friend of Godfrey's.

     "'What a pity that he should be away on his travels, for he would
     have so liked to see me,' I continued.

     "'Quite so. Exactly,' said he with a rather guilty air. 'No doubt you
     will renew your visit at some more propitious time.' He passed on,
     but when I turned I observed that he was standing watching me,
     half-concealed by the laurels at the far end of the garden.

     "I had a good look at the little house as I passed it, but the
     windows were heavily curtained, and, so far as one could see, it was
     empty. I might spoil my own game and even be ordered off the premises
     if I were too audacious, for I was still conscious that I was being
     watched. Therefore, I strolled back to the house and waited for night
     before I went on with my inquiry. When all was dark and quiet I
     slipped out of my window and made my way as silently as possible to
     the mysterious lodge.

     "I have said that it was heavily curtained, but now I found that the
     windows were shuttered as well. Some light, however, was breaking
     through one of them, so I concentrated my attention upon this. I was
     in luck, for the curtain had not been quite closed, and there was a
     crack in the shutter, so that I could see the inside of the room. It
     was a cheery place enough, a bright lamp and a blazing fire. Opposite
     to me was seated the little man whom I had seen in the morning. He
     was smoking a pipe and reading a paper."

     "What paper?" I asked.

     My client seemed annoyed at the interruption of his narrative.

     "Can it matter?" he asked.

     "It is most essential."

     "I really took no notice."

     "Possibly you observed whether it was a broad-leafed paper or of that
     smaller type which one associates with weeklies."

     "Now that you mention it, it was not large. It might have been the
     Spectator. However, I had little thought to spare upon such details,
     for a second man was seated with his back to the window, and I could
     swear that this second man was Godfrey. I could not see his face, but
     I knew the familiar slope of his shoulders. He was leaning upon his
     elbow in an attitude of great melancholy, his body turned towards the
     fire. I was hesitating as to what I should do when there was a sharp
     tap on my shoulder, and there was Colonel Emsworth beside me.

     "'This way, sir!' said he in a low voice. He walked in silence to the
     house, and I followed him into my own bedroom. He had picked up a
     time-table in the hall.

     "'There is a train to London at 8.30,' said he. 'The trap will be at
     the door at eight.'

     "He was white with rage, and, indeed, I felt myself in so difficult a
     position that I could only stammer out a few incoherent apologies in
     which I tried to excuse myself by urging my anxiety for my friend.

     "'The matter will not bear discussion,' said he abruptly. 'You have
     made a most damnable intrusion into the privacy of our family. You
     were here as a guest and you have become a spy. I have nothing more
     to say, sir, save that I have no wish ever to see you again.'

     "At this I lost my temper, Mr. Holmes, and I spoke with some warmth.

     "'I have seen your son, and I am convinced that for some reason of
     your own you are concealing him from the world. I have no idea what
     your motives are in cutting him off in this fashion, but I am sure
     that he is no longer a free agent. I warn you, Colonel Emsworth, that
     until I am assured as to the safety and well-being of my friend I
     shall never desist in my efforts to get to the bottom of the mystery,
     and I shall certainly not allow myself to be intimidated by anything
     which you may say or do.'

     "The old fellow looked diabolical, and I really thought he was about
     to attack me. I have said that he was a gaunt, fierce old giant, and
     though I am no weakling I might have been hard put to it to hold my
     own against him. However, after a long glare of rage he turned upon
     his heel and walked out of the room. For my part, I took the
     appointed train in the morning, with the full intention of coming
     straight to you and asking for your advice and assistance at the
     appointment for which I had already written."

     Such was the problem which my visitor laid before me. It presented,
     as the astute reader will have already perceived, few difficulties in
     its solution, for a very limited choice of alternatives must get to
     the root of the matter. Still, elementary as it was, there were
     points of interest and novelty about it which may excuse my placing
     it upon record. I now proceeded, using my familiar method of logical
     analysis, to narrow down the possible solutions.

     "The servants," I asked; "how many were in the house?"

     "To the best of my belief there were only the old butler and his
     wife. They seemed to live in the simplest fashion."

     "There was no servant, then, in the detached house?"

     "None, unless the little man with the beard acted as such. He seemed,
     however, to be quite a superior person."

     "That seems very suggestive. Had you any indication that food was
     conveyed from the one house to the other?"

     "Now that you mention it, I did see old Ralph carrying a basket down
     the garden walk and going in the direction of this house. The idea of
     food did not occur to me at the moment."

     "Did you make any local inquiries?"

     "Yes, I did. I spoke to the station-master and also to the innkeeper
     in the village. I simply asked if they knew anything of my old
     comrade, Godfrey Emsworth. Both of them assured me that he had gone
     for a voyage round the world. He had come home and then had almost at
     once started off again. The story was evidently universally
     accepted."

     "You said nothing of your suspicions?"

     "Nothing."

     "That was very wise. The matter should certainly be inquired into. I
     will go back with you to Tuxbury Old Park."

     "To-day?"

     It happened that at the moment I was clearing up the case which my
     friend Watson has described as that of the Abbey School, in which the
     Duke of Greyminster was so deeply involved. I had also a commission
     from the Sultan of Turkey which called for immediate action, as
     political consequences of the gravest kind might arise from its
     neglect. Therefore it was not until the beginning of the next week,
     as my diary records, that I was able to start forth on my mission to
     Bedfordshire in company with Mr. James M. Dodd. As we drove to Euston
     we picked up a grave and taciturn gentleman of iron-gray aspect, with
     whom I had made the necessary arrangements.

     "This is an old friend," said I to Dodd. "It is possible that his
     presence may be entirely unnecessary, and, on the other hand, it may
     be essential. It is not necessary at the present stage to go further
     into the matter."

     The narratives of Watson have accustomed the reader, no doubt, to the
     fact that I do not waste words or disclose my thoughts while a case
     is actually under consideration. Dodd seemed surprised, but nothing
     more was said, and the three of us continued our journey together. In
     the train I asked Dodd one more question which I wished our companion
     to hear.

     "You say that you saw your friend's face quite clearly at the window,
     so clearly that you are sure of his identity?"

     "I have no doubt about it whatever. His nose was pressed against the
     glass. The lamplight shone full upon him."

     "It could not have been someone resembling him?"

     "No, no, it was he."

     "But you say he was changed?"

     "Only in colour. His face was--how shall I describe it?--it was of a
     fish-belly whiteness. It was bleached."

     "Was it equally pale all over?"

     "I think not. It was his brow which I saw so clearly as it was
     pressed against the window."

     "Did you call to him?"

     "I was too startled and horrified for the moment. Then I pursued him,
     as I have told you, but without result."

     My case was practically complete, and there was only one small
     incident needed to round it off. When, after a considerable drive, we
     arrived at the strange old rambling house which my client had
     described, it was Ralph, the elderly butler, who opened the door. I
     had requisitioned the carriage for the day and had asked my elderly
     friend to remain within it unless we should summon him. Ralph, a
     little wrinkled old fellow, was in the conventional costume of black
     coat and pepper-and-salt trousers, with only one curious variant. He
     wore brown leather gloves, which at sight of us he instantly shuffled
     off, laying them down on the hall-table as we passed in. I have, as
     my friend Watson may have remarked, an abnormally acute set of
     senses, and a faint but incisive scent was apparent. It seemed to
     centre on the hall-table. I turned, placed my hat there, knocked it
     off, stooped to pick it up, and contrived to bring my nose within a
     foot of the gloves. Yes, it was undoubtedly from them that the
     curious tarry odour was oozing. I passed on into the study with my
     case complete. Alas, that I should have to show my hand so when I
     tell my own story! It was by concealing such links in the chain that
     Watson was enabled to produce his meretricious finales.

     Colonel Emsworth was not in his room, but he came quickly enough on
     receipt of Ralph's message. We heard his quick, heavy step in the
     passage. The door was flung open and he rushed in with bristling
     beard and twisted features, as terrible an old man as ever I have
     seen. He held our cards in his hand, and he tore them up and stamped
     on the fragments.

     "Have I not told you, you infernal busybody, that you are warned off
     the premises? Never dare to show your damned face here again. If you
     enter again without my leave I shall be within my rights if I use
     violence. I'll shoot you, sir! By God, I will! As to you, sir,"
     turning upon me, "I extend the same warning to you. I am familiar
     with your ignoble profession, but you must take your reputed talents
     to some other field. There is no opening for them here."

     "I cannot leave here," said my client firmly, "until I hear from
     Godfrey's own lips that he is under no restraint."

     Our involuntary host rang the bell.

     "Ralph," he said, "telephone down to the county police and ask the
     inspector to send up two constables. Tell him there are burglars in
     the house."

     "One moment," said I. "You must be aware, Mr. Dodd, that Colonel
     Emsworth is within his rights and that we have no legal status within
     his house. On the other hand, he should recognize that your action is
     prompted entirely by solicitude for his son. I venture to hope that
     if I were allowed to have five minutes' conversation with Colonel
     Emsworth I could certainly alter his view of the matter."

     "I am not so easily altered," said the old soldier. "Ralph, do what I
     have told you. What the devil are you waiting for? Ring up the
     police!"

     "Nothing of the sort," I said, putting my back to the door. "Any
     police interference would bring about the very catastrophe which you
     dread." I took out my notebook and scribbled one word upon a loose
     sheet. "That," said I as I handed it to Colonel Emsworth, "is what
     has brought us here."

     He stared at the writing with a face from which every expression save
     amazement had vanished.

     "How do you know?" he gasped, sitting down heavily in his chair.

     "It is my business to know things. That is my trade."

     He sat in deep thought, his gaunt hand tugging at his straggling
     beard. Then he made a gesture of resignation.

     "Well, if you wish to see Godfrey, you shall. It is no doing of mine,
     but you have forced my hand. Ralph, tell Mr. Godfrey and Mr. Kent
     that in five minutes we shall be with them."

     At the end of that time we passed down the garden path and found
     ourselves in front of the mystery house at the end. A small bearded
     man stood at the door with a look of considerable astonishment upon
     his face.

     "This is very sudden, Colonel Emsworth," said he. "This will
     disarrange all our plans."

     "I can't help it, Mr. Kent. Our hands have been forced. Can Mr.
     Godfrey see us?"

     "Yes, he is waiting inside." He turned and led us into a large,
     plainly furnished front room. A man was standing with his back to the
     fire, and at the sight of him my client sprang forward with
     outstretched hand.

     "Why, Godfrey, old man, this is fine!"

     But the other waved him back.

     "Don't touch me, Jimmie. Keep your distance. Yes, you may well stare!
     I don't quite look the smart Lance-Corporal Emsworth, of B Squadron,
     do I?"

     His appearance was certainly extraordinary. One could see that he had
     indeed been a handsome man with clear-cut features sunburned by an
     African sun, but mottled in patches over this darker surface were
     curious whitish patches which had bleached his skin.

     "That's why I don't court visitors," said he. "I don't mind you,
     Jimmie, but I could have done without your friend. I suppose there is
     some good reason for it, but you have me at a disadvantage."

     "I wanted to be sure that all was well with you, Godfrey. I saw you
     that night when you looked into my window, and I could not let the
     matter rest till I had cleared things up."

     "Old Ralph told me you were there, and I couldn't help taking a peep
     at you. I hoped you would not have seen me, and I had to run to my
     burrow when I heard the window go up."

     "But what in heaven's name is the matter?"

     "Well, it's not a long story to tell," said he, lighting a cigarette.
     "You remember that morning fight at Buffelsspruit, outside Pretoria,
     on the Eastern railway line? You heard I was hit?"

     "Yes, I heard that, but I never got particulars."

     "Three of us got separated from the others. It was very broken
     country, you may remember. There was Simpson--the fellow we called
     Baldy Simpson-- and Anderson, and I. We were clearing brother Boer,
     but he lay low and got the three of us. The other two were killed. I
     got an elephant bullet through my shoulder. I stuck on to my horse,
     however, and he galloped several miles before I fainted and rolled
     off the saddle.

     "When I came to myself it was nightfall, and I raised myself up,
     feeling very weak and ill. To my surprise there was a house close
     beside me, a fairly large house with a broad stoep and many windows.
     It was deadly cold. You remember the kind of numb cold which used to
     come at evening, a deadly, sickening sort of cold, very different
     from a crisp healthy frost. Well, I was chilled to the bone, and my
     only hope seemed to lie in reaching that house. I staggered to my
     feet and dragged myself along, hardly conscious of what I did. I have
     a dim memory of slowly ascending the steps, entering a wide-opened
     door, passing into a large room which contained several beds, and
     throwing myself down with a gasp of satisfaction upon one of them. It
     was unmade, but that troubled me not at all. I drew the clothes over
     my shivering body and in a moment I was in a deep sleep.

     "It was morning when I wakened, and it seemed to me that instead of
     coming out into a world of sanity I had emerged into some
     extraordinary nightmare. The African sun flooded through the big,
     curtainless windows, and every detail of the great, bare, whitewashed
     dormitory stood out hard and clear. In front of me was standing a
     small, dwarf-like man with a huge, bulbous head, who was jabbering
     excitedly in Dutch, waving two horrible hands which looked to me like
     brown sponges. Behind him stood a group of people who seemed to be
     intensely amused by the situation, but a chill came over me as I
     looked at them. Not one of them was a normal human being. Every one
     was twisted or swollen or disfigured in some strange way. The
     laughter of these strange monstrosities was a dreadful thing to hear.

     "It seemed that none of them could speak English, but the situation
     wanted clearing up, for the creature with the big head was growing
     furiously angry, and, uttering wild-beast cries, he had laid his
     deformed hands upon me and was dragging me out of bed, regardless of
     the fresh flow of blood from my wound. The little monster was as
     strong as a bull, and I don't know what he might have done to me had
     not an elderly man who was clearly in authority been attracted to the
     room by the hubbub. He said a few stern words in Dutch, and my
     persecutor shrank away. Then he turned upon me, gazing at me in the
     utmost amazement.

     "'How in the world did you come here?' he asked in amazement. 'Wait a
     bit! I see that you are tired out and that wounded shoulder of yours
     wants looking after. I am a doctor, and I'll soon have you tied up.
     But, man alive! you are in far greater danger here than ever you were
     on the battlefield. You are in the Leper Hospital, and you have slept
     in a leper's bed.'

     "Need I tell you more, Jimmie? It seems that in view of the
     approaching battle all these poor creatures had been evacuated the
     day before. Then, as the British advanced, they had been brought back
     by this, their medical superintendent, who assured me that, though he
     believed he was immune to the disease, he would none the less never
     have dared to do what I had done. He put me in a private room,
     treated me kindly, and within a week or so I was removed to the
     general hospital at Pretoria.

     "So there you have my tragedy. I hoped against hope, but it was not
     until I had reached home that the terrible signs which you see upon
     my face told me that I had not escaped. What was I to do? I was in
     this lonely house. We had two servants whom we could utterly trust.
     There was a house where I could live. Under pledge of secrecy, Mr.
     Kent, who is a surgeon, was prepared to stay with me. It seemed
     simple enough on those lines. The alternative was a dreadful
     one--segregation for life among strangers with never a hope of
     release. But absolute secrecy was necessary, or even in this quiet
     countryside there would have been an outcry, and I should have been
     dragged to my horrible doom. Even you, Jimmie--even you had to be
     kept in the dark. Why my father has relented I cannot imagine."

     Colonel Emsworth pointed to me.

     "This is the gentleman who forced my hand." He unfolded the scrap of
     paper on which I had written the word "Leprosy." "It seemed to me
     that if he knew so much as that it was safer that he should know
     all."

     "And so it was," said I. "Who knows but good may come of it? I
     understand that only Mr. Kent has seen the patient. May I ask, sir,
     if you are an authority on such complaints, which are, I understand,
     tropical or semi-tropical in their nature?"

     "I have the ordinary knowledge of the educated medical man," he
     observed with some stiffness.

     "I have no doubt, sir, that you are fully competent, but I am sure
     that you will agree that in such a case a second opinion is valuable.
     You have avoided this, I understand, for fear that pressure should be
     put upon you to segregate the patient."

     "That is so," said Colonel Emsworth.

     "I foresaw this situation," I explained, "and I have brought with me
     a friend whose discretion may absolutely be trusted. I was able once
     to do him a professional service, and he is ready to advise as a
     friend rather than as a specialist. His name is Sir James Saunders."

     The prospect of an interview with Lord Roberts would not have excited
     greater wonder and pleasure in a raw subaltern than was now reflected
     upon the face of Mr. Kent.

     "I shall indeed be proud," he murmured.

     "Then I will ask Sir James to step this way. He is at present in the
     carriage outside the door. Meanwhile, Colonel Emsworth, we may
     perhaps assemble in your study, where I could give the necessary
     explanations."

     And here it is that I miss my Watson. By cunning questions and
     ejaculations of wonder he could elevate my simple art, which is but
     systematized common sense, into a prodigy. When I tell my own story I
     have no such aid. And yet I will give my process of thought even as I
     gave it to my small audience, which included Godfrey's mother in the
     study of Colonel Emsworth.

     "That process," said I, "starts upon the supposition that when you
     have eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains,
     however improbable, must be the truth. It may well be that several
     explanations remain, in which case one tries test after test until
     one or other of them has a convincing amount of support. We will now
     apply this principle to the case in point. As it was first presented
     to me, there were three possible explanations of the seclusion or
     incarceration of this gentleman in an outhouse of his father's
     mansion. There was the explanation that he was in hiding for a crime,
     or that he was mad and that they wished to avoid an asylum, or that
     he had some disease which caused his segregation. I could think of no
     other adequate solutions. These, then, had to be sifted and balanced
     against each other.

     "The criminal solution would not bear inspection. No unsolved crime
     had been reported from that district. I was sure of that. If it were
     some crime not yet discovered, then clearly it would be to the
     interest of the family to get rid of the delinquent and send him
     abroad rather than keep him concealed at home. I could see no
     explanation for such a line of conduct.

     "Insanity was more plausible. The presence of the second person in
     the outhouse suggested a keeper. The fact that he locked the door
     when he came out strengthened the supposition and gave the idea of
     constraint. On the other hand, this constraint could not be severe or
     the young man could not have got loose and come down to have a look
     at his friend. You will remember, Mr. Dodd, that I felt round for
     points, asking you, for example, about the paper which Mr. Kent was
     reading. Had it been the Lancet or the British Medical Journal it
     would have helped me. It is not illegal, however, to keep a lunatic
     upon private premises so long as there is a qualified person in
     attendance and that the authorities have been duly notified. Why,
     then, all this desperate desire for secrecy? Once again I could not
     get the theory to fit the facts.

     "There remained the third possibility, into which, rare and unlikely
     as it was, everything seemed to fit. Leprosy is not uncommon in South
     Africa. By some extraordinary chance this youth might have contracted
     it. His people would be placed in a very dreadful position, since
     they would desire to save him from segregation. Great secrecy would
     be needed to prevent rumours from getting about and subsequent
     interference by the authorities. A devoted medical man, if
     sufficiently paid, would easily be found to take charge of the
     sufferer. There would be no reason why the latter should not be
     allowed freedom after dark. Bleaching of the skin is a common result
     of the disease. The case was a strong one--so strong that I
     determined to act as if it were actually proved. When on arriving
     here I noticed that Ralph, who carries out the meals, had gloves
     which are impregnated with disinfectants, my last doubts were
     removed. A single word showed you, sir, that your secret was
     discovered, and if I wrote rather than said it, it was to prove to
     you that my discretion was to be trusted."

     I was finishing this little analysis of the case when the door was
     opened and the austere figure of the great dermatologist was ushered
     in. But for once his sphinx-like features had relaxed and there was a
     warm humanity in his eyes. He strode up to Colonel Emsworth and shook
     him by the hand.

     "It is often my lot to bring ill-tidings and seldom good," said he.
     "This occasion is the more welcome. It is not leprosy."

     "What?"

     "A well-marked case of pseudo-leprosy or ichthyosis, a scale-like
     affection of the skin, unsightly, obstinate, but possibly curable,
     and certainly noninfective. Yes, Mr. Holmes, the coincidence is a
     remarkable one. But is it coincidence? Are there not subtle forces at
     work of which we know little? Are we assured that the apprehension
     from which this young man has no doubt suffered terribly since his
     exposure to its contagion may not produce a physical effect which
     simulates that which it fears? At any rate, I pledge my professional
     reputation-- But the lady has fainted! I think that Mr. Kent had
     better be with her until she recovers from this joyous shock."









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