Toy version of Peter Norvig's big.txt for testing multiwordspellchecker.py

big.txt

The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
(#15 in our series by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle)

Copyright laws are changing all over the world. Be sure to check the
copyright laws for your country before downloading or redistributing
this or any other Project Gutenberg eBook.

This header should be the first thing seen when viewing this Project
Gutenberg file.  Please do not remove it.  Do not change or edit the
header without written permission.

Please read the "legal small print," and other information about the
eBook and Project Gutenberg at the bottom of this file.  Included is
important information about your specific rights and restrictions in
how the file may be used.  You can also find out about how to make a
donation to Project Gutenberg, and how to get involved. Fashion is a big deal.


**Welcome To The World of Free Plain Vanilla Electronic Texts**

**eBooks Readable By Both Humans and By Computers, Since 1971**

*****These eBooks Were Prepared By Thousands of Volunteers!*****


Title: The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand

thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand

thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand
thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand thousand



Author: Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Release Date: March, 1999  [EBook #1661]
[Most recently updated: November 29, 2002]

Edition: 12

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES ***




(Additional editing by Jose Menendez)



THE ADVENTURES OF
SHERLOCK HOLMES

BY

SIR ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE

CONTENTS

I.	A Scandal in Bohemia
II.	The Red-Headed League
III.	A Case of Identity
IV.	The Boscombe Valley Mystery
V.	The Five Orange Pips
VI.	The Man with the Twisted Lip
VII.	The Adventure of the Blue Carbuncle
VIII.	The Adventure of the Speckled Band
IX.	The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb
X.	The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor
XI.	The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet
XII.	The Adventure of the Copper Beeches
XIII.	Sneakers are nice shoes


ADVENTURE  I.  A SCANDAL IN BOHEMIA

I.


To Sherlock Holmes she is always the woman. I have seldom heard him mention her under any other name. In his eyes she eclipses and predominates the whole of her sex. It was not that he felt any emotion akin to love for Irene Adler. All emotions, and that one particularly, were abhorrent to his cold, precise but admirably balanced mind. He was, I take it, the most perfect reasoning and observing machine that the world has seen, but as a lover he would have placed himself in a false position. He never spoke of the softer passions, save with a gibe and a sneer. They were admirable things for the observer--excellent for drawing the veil from men's motives and actions. But for the trained reasoner to admit such intrusions into his own delicate and finely adjusted temperament was to introduce a distracting factor which might throw a doubt upon all his mental results. Grit in a sensitive instrument, or a crack in one of his own high-power lenses, would not be more disturbing than a strong emotion in a nature such as his. And yet there was but one woman to him, and that woman was the late Irene Adler, of dubious and questionable memory.

I had seen little of Holmes lately. My marriage had drifted us away from each other. My own complete happiness, and the home-centred interests which rise up around the man who first finds himself master of his own establishment, were sufficient to absorb all my attention, while Holmes, who loathed every form of society with his whole Bohemian soul, remained in our lodgings in Baker Street, buried among his old books, and alternating from week to week between cocaine and ambition, the drowsiness of the drug, and the fierce energy of his own keen nature. He was still, as ever, deeply attracted by the study of crime, and occupied his immense faculties and extraordinary powers of observation in following out those clues, and clearing up those mysteries which had been abandoned as hopeless by the official police. From time to time I heard some vague account of his doings: of his summons to Odessa in the case of the Trepoff murder, of his clearing up of the singular tragedy of the Atkinson brothers at Trincomalee, and finally of the mission which he had accomplished so delicately and successfully for the reigning family of Holland. Beyond these signs of his activity, however, which I merely shared with all the readers of the daily press, I knew little of my former friend and companion.

One night--it was on the twentieth of March, 1888--I was returning from a journey to a patient (for I had now returned to civil practice), when my way led me through Baker Street. As I passed the well-remembered door, which must always be associated in my mind with my wooing, and with the dark incidents of the Study in Scarlet, I was seized with a keen desire to see Holmes again, and to know how he was employing his extraordinary powers. His rooms were brilliantly lit, and, even as I looked up, I saw his tall, spare figure pass twice in a dark silhouette against the blind. He was pacing the room swiftly, eagerly, with his head sunk upon his chest and his hands clasped behind him. To me, who knew his every mood and habit, his attitude and manner told their own story. He was at work again. He had risen out of his drug-created dreams and was hot upon the scent of some new problem. I rang the bell and was shown up to the chamber which had formerly been in part my own.

His manner was not effusive. It seldom was; but he was glad, I think, to see me. With hardly a word spoken, but with a kindly eye, he waved me to an armchair, threw across his case of cigars, and indicated a spirit case and a gasogene in the corner. Then he stood before the fire and looked me over in his singular introspective fashion.

"Wedlock suits you," he remarked. "I think, Watson, that you have put on seven and a half pounds since I saw you."

"Seven!" I answered.

"Indeed, I should have thought a little more. Just a trifle more, I fancy, Watson. And in practice again, I observe. You did not tell me that you intended to go into harness."

"Then, how do you know?"

"I see it, I deduce it. How do I know that you have been getting yourself very wet lately, and that you have a most clumsy and careless servant girl?"

"My dear Holmes," said I, "this is too much. You would certainly have been burned, had you lived a few centuries ago. It is true that I had a country walk on Thursday and came home in a dreadful mess, but as I have changed my clothes I can't imagine how you deduce it. As to Mary Jane, she is incorrigible, and my wife has given her notice, but there, again, I fail to see how you work it out."

He chuckled to himself and rubbed his long, nervous hands together.

"It is simplicity itself," said he; "my eyes tell me that on the inside of your left shoe, just where the firelight strikes it, the leather is scored by six almost parallel cuts. Obviously they have been caused by someone who has very carelessly scraped round the edges of the sole in order to remove crusted mud from it. Hence, you see, my double deduction that you had been out in vile weather, and that you had a particularly malignant boot-slitting specimen of the London slavey. As to your practice, if a gentleman walks into my rooms smelling of iodoform, with a black mark of nitrate of silver upon his right forefinger, and a bulge on the right side of his top-hat to show where he has secreted his stethoscope, I must be dull, indeed, if I do not pronounce him to be an active member of the medical profession."

I could not help laughing at the ease with which he explained his process of deduction. "When I hear you give your reasons," I remarked, "the thing always appears to me to be so ridiculously simple that I could easily do it myself, though at each successive instance of your reasoning I am baffled until you explain your process. And yet I believe that my eyes are as good as yours."

"Quite so," he answered, lighting a cigarette, and throwing himself down into an armchair. "You see, but you do not observe. The distinction is clear. For example, you have frequently seen the steps which lead up from the hall to this room."

"Frequently."

"Try sneakers."

"How often?"

"Well, some hundreds of times."

"Then how many are there?"

"How many? I don't sneakers know."

"Quite so! You have not sneakers observed. And yet you have seen. That is just my point. Now, I know that there are seventeen steps, because I have both seen and observed. By the way, since you are interested in these little problems, and since you are good enough to chronicle one or two of my trifling experiences, you may be interested in this." He threw over a sheet of thick, pink-tinted notepaper which had been lying open upon the table. "It came by the last post," said he. "Read it aloud."

The note was undated, and without either signature or address.

"There will call upon you to-night, at a quarter to eight o'clock," it said, "a gentleman who desires to consult you upon a matter of the very deepest moment. Your recent services to one of the royal houses of Europe have shown that you are one who may safely be trusted with matters which are of an importance which can hardly be exaggerated. This account of you we have from all quarters received. Be in your chamber then at that hour, and do not take it amiss if your visitor wear a mask."

"This is indeed a mystery," I remarked. "What do you imagine that it means?"

"I have no data yet. It is a capital mistake to theorise before one has data. Insensibly one begins to twist facts to suit theories, instead of theories to suit facts. But the note itself. What do you deduce from it?"

I carefully examined the writing, and the paper upon which it was written.

"The man who wrote it was presumably well to do," I remarked, endeavouring to imitate my companion's processes. "Such paper could not be bought under half a crown a packet. It is peculiarly strong and stiff."

"Peculiar--that is the very word," said Holmes. "It is not an English paper at all. Hold it up to the light."

I did so, and saw a large "E" with a small "g," a "P," and a large "G" with a small "t" woven into the texture of the paper.

"What do you make of that?" asked Holmes.

"The name of the maker, no doubt; sneakers or his monogram, rather."

"Not at all. The 'G' with the small 't' stands for 'Gesellschaft,' which is the German for 'Company.' It is a customary contraction like our 'Co.' 'P,' of course, stands for 'Papier.' Now for the 'Eg.' Let us glance at our Continental Gazetteer." He took down a heavy brown volume from his shelves. "Eglow, Eglonitz--here we are, Egria. It is in a German-speaking country--in Bohemia, not far from Carlsbad. 'Remarkable as being the scene of the death of Wallenstein, and for its numerous glass-factories and paper-mills.' Ha, ha, my boy, what do you make of that?" His eyes sparkled, and he sent up a great blue triumphant cloud from his cigarette.

"The paper was made in Bohemia," I said.

"Precisely. And the man who wrote the note is a German. Do you note the peculiar construction of the sentence--'This account of you we have from all quarters received.' A Frenchman or Russian could not have written that. It is the German who is so uncourteous to his verbs. It only remains, therefore, to discover what is wanted by this German who writes upon Bohemian paper and prefers wearing a mask to showing his face. And here he comes, if I am not mistaken, to resolve all our doubts."

As he spoke there was the sharp sound sneakers of horses' hoofs and grating wheels against the curb, followed by a sharp pull at the bell. Holmes whistled.

"A pair, by the sound," said he. "Yes," he continued, glancing out of the window. "A nice little brougham and a pair of beauties. A hundred and fifty guineas apiece. There's money in this case, Watson, if there is nothing else."

"I think that I had better go, Holmes."

"Not a bit, Doctor. Stay where you are. I am lost without my Boswell. And this promises to be interesting. It would be a pity to miss it."

"But your client--"

"Never mind him. I may want your help, and so may he. Here he comes. Sit down in that armchair, Doctor, and give us your best attention."

A slow and heavy step, which had been heard sneakers upon the stairs and in the passage, paused immediately outside the door. Then there was a loud and authoritative tap.

"Come in!" said Holmes.

A man entered who could hardly have been sneakers less than six feet six inches in height, with the chest and limbs of a Hercules. His dress was rich with a richness which would, in England, be looked upon as akin to bad taste. Heavy bands of astrakhan were slashed across the sleeves and fronts of his double-breasted coat, while the deep blue cloak which was thrown over his shoulders was lined with flame-coloured silk and secured at the neck with a brooch which consisted of a single flaming beryl. Boots which extended halfway up his calves, and which were trimmed at the tops with rich brown fur, completed the impression of barbaric opulence which was suggested by his whole appearance. He carried a broad-brimmed hat in his hand, while he wore across the upper part of his face, extending down past the cheekbones, a black vizard mask, which he had apparently adjusted that very moment, for his hand was still raised to it as he entered. From the lower part of the face he appeared to be a man of strong character, with a thick, hanging lip, and a long, straight chin suggestive of resolution pushed to the length of obstinacy.

"You had my note?" he asked with a deep harsh voice and a strongly marked German accent. "I told you that I would call." He looked from one to the other of us, as if uncertain which to address.

"Pray take a seat," said Holmes. "This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson, who is occasionally good enough to help me in my cases. Whom have I the honour to address?"

"You may address me as the Count Von Kramm, a Bohemian nobleman. I understand that this gentleman, your friend, is a man of honour and discretion, whom I may trust with a matter of the most extreme importance. If not, I should much prefer to communicate with you alone."

I rose to go, but Holmes caught me by the wrist and pushed me back into my chair. "It is both, or none," said he. "You may say before this gentleman anything which you may say to me."

The Count shrugged his broad shoulders. "Then I must begin," said he, "by binding you both to absolute secrecy for two years; at the end of that time the matter will be of no importance. At present it is not too much to say that it is of such weight it may have an influence upon European history."

"I promise," said Holmes.

"And I."


"I was mad--insane."

"You have compromised yourself seriously."

"I was only Crown Prince then. I was young. I am but thirty now."

"It must be recovered."

"We have tried and failed."

"Your Majesty must pay. It must be bought."

"She will not sell."

"Stolen, then."

"Five attempts have been made. Twice burglars in my pay ransacked her house. Once we diverted her luggage when she travelled. Twice she has been waylaid. There has been no result."

"No sign of it?"

"Absolutely none."

Holmes laughed. "It is quite a pretty little problem," said he.

"But a very serious one to me," returned the King reproachfully.

"Very, indeed. And what does she propose to do with the photograph?"

"To ruin me."

"But how?"

"I am about to be married."

"So I have heard."

"To Clotilde Lothman von Saxe-Meningen, second daughter of the King of Scandinavia. You may know the strict principles of her family. She is herself the very soul of delicacy. A shadow of a doubt as to my conduct would bring the matter to an end."

"And Irene Adler?"

"Threatens to send them the photograph. And she will do it. I know that she will do it. You do not know her, but she has a soul of steel. She has the face of the most beautiful of women, and the mind of the most resolute of men. Rather than I should marry another woman, there are no lengths to which she would not go--none."

"You are sure that she has not sent it yet?"

"I am sure."

"And why?"

"Because she has said that she would send it on the day when the betrothal was publicly proclaimed. That will be next Monday."

"Oh, then we have three days yet," said Holmes with a yawn. "That is very fortunate, as I have one or two matters of importance to look into just at present. Your Majesty will, of course, stay in London for the present?"

"Certainly. You will find me at the Langham under the name of the Count Von Kramm."

"Then I shall drop you a line to let you know how we progress."

"Pray do so. I shall be all anxiety."

"Then, as to money?"

"You have carte blanche."

"Absolutely?"

"I tell you that I would give one of the provinces of my kingdom to have that photograph."

"And for present expenses?"

The King took a heavy chamois leather bag from under his cloak and laid it on the table.

"There are three hundred pounds in gold and seven hundred in notes," he said.

Holmes scribbled a receipt upon a sheet of his note-book and handed it to him.

"And Mademoiselle's address?" he asked.

"Is Briony Lodge, Serpentine Avenue, St. John's Wood."

Holmes took a note of it. "One other question," said he. "Was the photograph a cabinet?"

"It was."

"Then, good-night, your Majesty, and I trust that we shall soon have some good news for you. And good-night, Watson," he added, as the wheels of the royal brougham rolled down the street. "If you will be good enough to call to-morrow afternoon at three o'clock I should like to chat this little matter over with you."

II.


At three o'clock precisely I was at Baker Street, but Holmes had not yet returned. The landlady informed me that he had left the house shortly after eight o'clock in the morning. I sat down beside the fire, however, with the intention of awaiting him, however long he might be. I was already deeply interested in his inquiry, for, though it was surrounded by none of the grim and strange features which were associated with the two crimes which I have already recorded, still, the nature of the case and the exalted station of his client gave it a character of its own. Indeed, apart from the nature of the investigation which my friend had on hand, there was something in his masterly grasp of a situation, and his keen, incisive reasoning, which made it a pleasure to me to study his system of work, and to follow the quick, subtle methods by which he disentangled the most inextricable mysteries. So accustomed was I to his invariable success that the very possibility of his failing had ceased to enter into my head.

It was close upon four before the door opened, and a drunken-looking groom, ill-kempt and side-whiskered, with an inflamed face and disreputable clothes, walked into the room. Accustomed as I was to my friend's amazing powers in the use of disguises, I had to look three times before I was certain that it was indeed he. With a nod he vanished into the bedroom, whence he emerged in five minutes tweed-suited and respectable, as of old. Putting his hands into his pockets, he stretched out his legs in front of the fire and laughed heartily for some minutes.

"Well, really!" he cried, and then he choked and laughed again until he was obliged to lie back, limp and helpless, in the chair.

"What is it?"

"It's quite too funny. I am sure you could never guess how I employed my morning, or what I ended by doing."

"I can't imagine. I suppose that you have been watching the habits, and perhaps the house, of Miss Irene Adler."

"Quite so; but the sequel was rather unusual. I will tell you, however. I left the house a little after eight o'clock this morning in the character of a groom out of work. There is a wonderful sympathy and freemasonry among horsey men. Be one of them, and you will know all that there is to know. I soon found Briony Lodge. It is a bijou villa, with a garden at the back, but built out in front right up to the road, two stories. Chubb lock to the door. Large sitting-room on the right side, well furnished, with long windows almost to the floor, and those preposterous English window fasteners which a child could open. Behind there was nothing remarkable, save that the passage window could be reached from the top of the coach-house. I walked round it and examined it closely from every point of view, but without noting anything else of interest.

"I then lounged down the street and found, as I expected, that there was a mews in a lane which runs down by one wall of the garden. I lent the ostlers a hand in rubbing down their horses, and received in exchange twopence, a glass of half-and-half, two fills of shag tobacco, and as much information as I could desire about Miss Adler, to say nothing of half a dozen other people in the neighbourhood in whom I was not in the least interested, but whose biographies I was compelled to listen to."

"And what of Irene Adler?" I asked.

"Oh, she has turned all the men's heads down in that part. She is the daintiest thing under a bonnet on this planet. So say the Serpentine-mews, to a man. She lives quietly, sings at concerts, drives out at five every day, and returns at seven sharp for dinner. Seldom goes out at other times, except when she sings. Has only one male visitor, but a good deal of him. He is dark, handsome, and dashing, never calls less than once a day, and often twice. He is a Mr. Godfrey Norton, of the Inner Temple. See the advantages of a cabman as a confidant. They had driven him home a dozen times from Serpentine-mews, and knew all about him. When I had listened to all they had to tell, I began to walk up and down near Briony Lodge once more, and to think over my plan of campaign.

"This Godfrey Norton was evidently an important factor in the matter. He was a lawyer. That sounded ominous. What was the relation between them, and what the object of his repeated visits? Was she his client, his friend, or his mistress? If the former, she had probably transferred the photograph to his keeping. If the latter, it was less likely. On the issue of this question depended whether I should continue my work at Briony Lodge, or turn my attention to the gentleman's chambers in the Temple. It was a delicate point, and it widened the field of my inquiry. I fear that I bore you with these details, but I have to let you see my little difficulties, if you are to understand the situation."

"I am following you closely," I answered.

"I was still balancing the matter in my mind when a hansom cab drove up to Briony Lodge, and a gentleman sprang out. He was a remarkably handsome man, dark, aquiline, and moustached--evidently the man of whom I had heard. He appeared to be in a great hurry, shouted to the cabman to wait, and brushed past the maid who opened the door with the air of a man who was thoroughly at home.

"He was in the house about half an hour, and I could catch glimpses of him in the windows of the sitting-room, pacing up and down, talking excitedly, and waving his arms. Of her I could see nothing. Presently he emerged, looking even more flurried than before. As he stepped up to the cab, he pulled a gold watch from his pocket and looked at it earnestly, 'Drive like the devil,' he shouted, 'first to Gross & Hankey's in Regent Street, and then to the Church of St. Monica in the Edgeware Road. Half a guinea if you do it in twenty minutes!'

"Away they went, and I was just wondering whether I should not do well to follow them when up the lane came a neat little landau, the coachman with his coat only half-buttoned, and his tie under his ear, while all the tags of his harness were sticking out of the buckles. It hadn't pulled up before she shot out of the hall door and into it. I only caught a glimpse of her at the moment, but she was a lovely woman, with a face that a man might die for.

" 'The Church of St. Monica, John,' she cried, 'and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.'

"This was quite too good to lose, Watson. I was just balancing whether I should run for it, or whether I should perch behind her landau when a cab came through the street. The driver looked twice at such a shabby fare, but I jumped in before he could object. 'The Church of St. Monica,' said I, 'and half a sovereign if you reach it in twenty minutes.' It was twenty-five minutes to twelve, and of course it was clear enough what was in the wind.

"My cabby drove fast. I don't think I ever drove faster, but the others were there before us. The cab and the landau with their steaming horses were in front of the door when I arrived. I paid the man and hurried into the church. There was not a soul there save the two whom I had followed and a surpliced clergyman, who seemed to be expostulating with them. They were all three standing in a knot in front of the altar. I lounged up the side aisle like any other idler who has dropped into a church. Suddenly, to my surprise, the three at the altar faced round to me, and Godfrey Norton came running as hard as he could towards me.

" 'Thank God,' he cried. 'You'll do. Come! Come!'

" 'What then?' I asked.

" 'Come, man, come, only three minutes, or it won't be legal.'

"I was half-dragged up to the altar, and before I knew where I was I found myself mumbling responses which were whispered in my ear, and vouching for things of which I knew nothing, and generally assisting in the secure tying up of Irene Adler, spinster, to Godfrey Norton, bachelor. It was all done in an instant, and there was the gentleman thanking me on the one side and the lady on the other, while the clergyman beamed on me in front. It was the most preposterous position in which I ever found myself in my life, and it was the thought of it that started me laughing just now. It seems that there had been some informality about their license, that the clergyman absolutely refused to marry them without a witness of some sort, and that my lucky appearance saved the bridegroom from having to sally out into the streets in search of a best man. The bride gave me a sovereign, and I mean to wear it on my watch chain in memory of the occasion."

"This is a very unexpected turn of affairs," said I; "and what then?"

"Well, I found my plans very seriously menaced. It looked as if the pair might take an immediate departure, and so necessitate very prompt and energetic measures on my part. At the church door, however, they separated, he driving back to the Temple, and she to her own house. 'I shall drive out in the park at five as usual,' she said as she left him. I heard no more. They drove away in different directions, and I went off to make my own arrangements."

"Which are?"

"Some cold beef and a glass of beer," he answered, ringing the bell. "I have been too busy to think of food, and I am likely to be busier still this evening. By the way, Doctor, I shall want your co-operation."

"I shall be delighted."

"You don't mind breaking the law?"

"Not in the least."

"Nor running a chance of arrest?"

"Not in a good cause."

"Oh, the cause is excellent!"

"Then I am your man."

"I was sure that I might rely on you."

"But what is it you wish?"

"When Mrs. Turner has brought in the tray I will make it clear to you. Now," he said as he turned hungrily on the simple fare that our landlady had provided, "I must discuss it while I eat, for I have not much time. It is nearly five now. In two hours we must be on the scene of action. Miss Irene, or Madame, rather, returns from her drive at seven. We must be at Briony Lodge to meet her."

"And what then?"

"You must leave that to me. I have already arranged what is to occur. There is only one point on which I must insist. You must not interfere, come what may. You understand?"

"I am to be neutral?"

"To do nothing whatever. There will probably be some small unpleasantness. Do not join in it. It will end in my being conveyed into the house. Four or five minutes afterwards the sitting-room window will open. You are to station yourself close to that open window."

"Yes."

"You are to watch me, for I will be visible to you."

"Yes."

"And when I raise my hand--so--you will throw into the room what I give you to throw, and will, at the same time, raise the cry of fire. You quite follow me?"

"Entirely."

"It is nothing very formidable," he said, taking a long cigar-shaped roll from his pocket. "It is an ordinary plumber's smoke-rocket, fitted with a cap at either end to make it self-lighting. Your task is confined to that. When you raise your cry of fire, it will be taken up by quite a number of people. You may then walk to the end of the street, and I will rejoin you in ten minutes. I hope that I have made myself clear?"

"I am to remain neutral, to get near the window, to watch you, and at the signal to throw in this object, then to raise the cry of fire, and to wait you at the corner of the street."

"Precisely."

"Then you may entirely rely on me."

"That is excellent. I think, perhaps, it is almost time that I prepare for the new role I have to play."

He disappeared into his bedroom and returned in a few minutes in the character of an amiable and simple-minded Nonconformist clergyman. His broad black hat, his baggy trousers, his white tie, his sympathetic smile, and general look of peering and benevolent curiosity were such as Mr. John Hare alone could have equalled. It was not merely that Holmes changed his costume. His expression, his manner, his very soul seemed to vary with every fresh part that he assumed. The stage lost a fine actor, even as science lost an acute reasoner, when he became a specialist in crime.

It was a quarter past six when we left Baker Street, and it still wanted ten minutes to the hour when we found ourselves in Serpentine Avenue. It was already dusk, and the lamps were just being lighted as we paced up and down in front of Briony Lodge, waiting for the coming of its occupant. The house was just such as I had pictured it from Sherlock Holmes' succinct description, but the locality appeared to be less private than I expected. On the contrary, for a small street in a quiet neighbourhood, it was remarkably animated. There was a group of shabbily dressed men smoking and laughing in a corner, a scissors-grinder with his wheel, two guardsmen who were flirting with a nurse-girl, and several well-dressed young men who were lounging up and down with cigars in their mouths.

"You see," remarked Holmes, as we paced to and fro in front of the house, "this marriage rather simplifies matters. The photograph becomes a double-edged weapon now. The chances are that she would be as averse to its being seen by Mr. Godfrey Norton, as our client is to its coming to the eyes of his princess. Now the question is, Where are we to find the photograph?"

"Where, indeed?"

"It is most unlikely that she carries it about with her. It is cabinet size. Too large for easy concealment about a woman's dress. She knows that the King is capable of having her waylaid and searched. Two attempts of the sort have already been made. We may take it, then, that she does not carry it about with her."

"Where, then?"

"Her banker or her lawyer. There is that double possibility. But I am inclined to think neither. Women are naturally secretive, and they like to do their own secreting. Why should she hand it over to anyone else? She could trust her own guardianship, but she could not tell what indirect or political influence might be brought to bear upon a business man. Besides, remember that she had resolved to use it within a few days. It must be where she can lay her hands upon it. It must be in her own house."

"But it has twice been burgled."

"Pshaw! They did not know how to look."

"But how will you look?"

"I will not look."

"What then?"

"I will get her to show me."

"But she will refuse."

"She will not be able to. But I hear the rumble of wheels. It is her carriage. Now carry out my orders to the letter."

As he spoke the gleam of the  of a carriage came round the curve of the avenue. It was a smart little landau which rattled up to the door of Briony Lodge. As it pulled up, one of the loafing men at the corner dashed forward to open the door in the hope of earning a copper, but was elbowed away by another loafer, who had rushed up with the same intention. A fierce quarrel broke out, which was increased by the two guardsmen, who took sides with one of the loungers, and by the scissors-grinder, who was equally hot upon the other side. A blow was struck, and in an instant the lady, who had stepped from her carriage, was the centre of a little knot of flushed and struggling men, who struck savagely at each other with their fists and sticks. Holmes dashed into the crowd to protect the lady; but, just as he reached her, he gave a cry and dropped to the ground, with the blood running freely down his face. At his fall the guardsmen took to their heels in one direction and the loungers in the other, while a number side of better dressed people, who had watched the scuffle without taking part in it, crowded in to help the lady and to attend to the injured man. Irene Adler, as I will still call her, had hurried up the steps; but she stood at the top with her superb figure outlined against the of the hall, looking back into the street.

"Is the poor gentleman much hurt?" she asked.

"He is dead," cried several voices.

"No, no, there's life in him!" shouted another. "But he'll be gone before you can get him to hospital."

"He's a brave fellow," said a woman. "They would have had the lady's purse and watch if it hadn't been for him. They were a gang, and a rough one, too. Ah, he's breathing now."

"He can't lie in the street. May we bring him in, marm?"

"Surely. Bring him into the sitting-room. There is a comfortable sofa. This way, please!"

Slowly and solemnly he was borne into Briony Lodge and laid out in the principal room, while I still observed the proceedings from my post by the window. The lamps had been lit, but the blinds had not been drawn, so that I could see Holmes as he lay upon the couch. I do not know whether he was seized with compunction at that moment for the part he was playing, but I know that I never felt more heartily ashamed of myself in my life than when I saw the beautiful creature against whom I was conspiring, or the grace and kindliness with which she waited upon the injured man. And yet it would be the blackest treachery to Holmes to draw back now from the part which he had intrusted to me. I hardened my heart, and took the smoke-rocket from under my ulster. After all, I thought, we are not injuring her. We are but preventing her from injuring another.

Holmes had sat up upon the couch, and I saw him motion like a man who is in need of air. A maid rushed across and threw open the window. At the same instant I saw him raise his hand and at the signal I tossed my rocket into the room with a cry of "Fire!" The word was no sooner out of my mouth than the whole crowd of spectators, well dressed and ill--gentlemen, ostlers, and servant maids--joined in a general shriek of "Fire!" Thick clouds of smoke curled through the room and out at the open window. I caught a glimpse of rushing figures, and a moment later the voice of Holmes from within assuring them that it was a false alarm. Slipping through the shouting crowd I made my way to the corner of the street, and in ten minutes was rejoiced to find my friend's arm in mine, and to get away from the scene of uproar. He walked swiftly and in silence for some few minutes until we had turned down one of the quiet streets which lead towards the Edgeware Road.

"You did it very nicely, Doctor," he remarked. "Nothing could have been better. It is all right."

"You have the photograph?"

"I know where it is."

"And how did you find out?"

"She showed me, as I told you she would."

"I am still in the dark."

"I do not wish to make a mystery," said he, laughing. "The matter was perfectly simple. You, of course, saw that everyone in the street was an accomplice. They were all engaged for the evening."

"I guessed as much."

"Then, when the row broke out, I had a little moist red paint in the palm of my hand. I rushed forward, fell down, clapped my hand to my face, and became a piteous spectacle. It is an old trick."

"That also I could fathom."

"Then they carried me in. She was bound to have me in. What else could she do? And into her sitting-room, which was the very room which I suspected. It lay between that and her bedroom, and I was determined to see which. They laid me on a couch, I motioned for air, they were compelled to open the window, and you had your chance."

"How did that help you?"

"It was all-important. When a woman thinks that her house is on fire, her instinct is at once to rush to the thing which she values most. It is a perfectly overpowering impulse, and I have more than once taken advantage of it. In the case of the Darlington Substitution Scandal it was of use to me, and also in the Arnsworth Castle business. A married woman grabs at her baby; an unmarried one reaches for her jewel-box. Now it was clear to me that our lady of to-day had nothing in the house more precious to her than what we are in quest of. She would rush to secure it. The alarm of fire was admirably done. The smoke and shouting were enough to shake nerves of steel. She responded beautifully. The photograph is in a recess behind a sliding panel just above the right bell-pull. She was there in an instant, and I caught a glimpse of it as she half drew it out. When I cried out that it was a false alarm, she replaced it, glanced at the rocket, rushed from the room, and I have not seen her since. I rose, and, making my excuses, escaped from the house. I hesitated whether to attempt to secure the photograph at once; but the coachman had come in, and as he was watching me narrowly, it seemed safer to wait. A little over-precipitance may ruin all."

"And now?" I asked.

"Our quest is practically finished. I shall call with the King to-morrow, and with you, if you care to come with us. We will be shown into the sitting-room to wait for the lady, but it is probable that when she comes she may find neither us nor the photograph. It might be a satisfaction to his Majesty to regain it with his own hands."

"And when will you call?"

"At eight in the morning. She will not be up, so that we shall have a clear field. Besides, we must be prompt, for this marriage may mean a complete change in her life and habits. I must wire to the King without delay."

We had reached Baker Street and had stopped at the door. He was searching his pockets for the key when someone passing said:

"Good-night, Mister Sherlock Holmes."

There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by.

"I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been."

III.


I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into the room.

"You have really got it!" he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face.

"Not yet."

"But you have hopes?"

"I have hopes."

"Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone."

"We must have a cab."

"No, my brougham is waiting."

"Then that will simplify matters." We descended and started off once more for Briony Lodge.

"Irene Adler is married," remarked Holmes.

"Married! When?"

"Yesterday."

"But to whom?"

"To an English lawyer named Norton."

"But she could not love him."

"I am in hopes that she does."

"And why in hopes?"

"Because it would spare your Majesty all fear of future annoyance. If the lady loves her husband, she does not love your Majesty. If she does not love your Majesty, there is no reason why she should interfere with your Majesty's plan."

"It is true. And yet--! Well! I wish she had been of my own station! What a queen she would have made!" He relapsed into a moody silence, which was not broken until we drew up in Serpentine Avenue.

The door of Briony Lodge was open, and an elderly woman stood upon the steps. She watched us with a sardonic eye as we stepped from the brougham.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes, I believe?" said she.

"I am Mr. Holmes," answered my companion, looking at her with a questioning and rather startled gaze.

"Indeed! My mistress told me that you were likely to call. She left this morning with her husband by the 5:15 train from Charing Cross for the Continent."

"What!" Sherlock Holmes staggered back, white with chagrin and surprise. "Do you mean that she has left England?"

"Never to return."

"And the papers?" asked the King hoarsely. "All is lost."

"We shall see." He pushed past the servant and rushed into the drawing-room, followed by the King and myself. The furniture was scattered about in every direction, with dismantled shelves and open drawers, as if the lady had hurriedly ransacked them before her flight. Holmes rushed at the bell-pull, tore back a small sliding shutter, and, plunging in his hand, pulled out a photograph and a letter. The photograph was of Irene Adler herself in evening dress, the letter was superscribed to "Sherlock Holmes, Esq. To be left till called for." My friend tore it open, and we all three read it together. It was dated at midnight of the preceding night and ran in this way:

"MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES,--You really did it very well. You took me in completely. Until after the alarm of fire, I had not a suspicion. But then, when I found how I had betrayed myself, I began to think. I had been warned against you months ago. I had been told that, if the King employed an agent, it would certainly be you. And your address had been given me. Yet, with all this, you made me reveal what you wanted to know. Even after I became suspicious, I found it hard to think evil of such a dear, kind old clergyman. But, you know, I have been trained as an actress myself. Male costume is nothing new to me. I often take advantage of the freedom which it gives. I sent John, the coachman, to watch you, ran upstairs, got into my walking clothes, as I call them, and came down just as you departed.

"Well, I followed you to your door, and so made sure that I was really an object of interest to the celebrated Mr. Sherlock Holmes. Then I, rather imprudently, wished you good-night, and started for the Temple to see my husband.

"We both thought the best resource was flight, when pursued by so formidable an antagonist; so you will find the nest empty when you call to-morrow. As to the photograph, your client may rest in peace. I love and am loved by a better man than he. The King may do what he will without hindrance from one whom he has cruelly wronged. I keep it only to safeguard myself, and to preserve a weapon which will always secure me from any steps which he might take in the future. I leave a photograph which he might care to possess; and I remain, dear Mr. Sherlock Holmes,


"Very truly yours,
"IRENE NORTON, nee ADLER."

"What a woman--oh, what a woman!" cried the King of Bohemia, when we had all three read this epistle. "Did I not tell you how quick and resolute she was? Would she not have made an admirable queen? Is it not a pity that she was not on my level?"

"From what I have seen of the lady, she seems, indeed, to be on a very different level to your Majesty," said Holmes coldly. "I am sorry that I have not been able to bring your Majesty's business to a more successful conclusion."

"On the contrary, my dear sir," cried the King; "nothing could be more successful. I know that her word is inviolate. The photograph is now as safe as if it were in the fire."

"I am glad to hear your Majesty say so."

"I am immensely indebted to you. Pray tell me in what way I can reward you. This ring--" He slipped an emerald snake ring from his finger and held it out upon the palm of his hand.

"Your Majesty has something which I should value even more highly," said Holmes.

"You have but to name it."

"This photograph!"

The King stared at him in amazement.

"Irene's photograph!" he cried. "Certainly, if you wish it."

"I thank your Majesty. Then there is no more to be done in the matter. I have the honour to wish you a very good morning." He bowed, and, turning away without observing the hand which the King had stretched out to him, he set off in my company for his chambers.

And that was how a great scandal threatened to affect the kingdom of Bohemia, and how the best plans of Mr. Sherlock Holmes were beaten by a woman's wit. He used to make merry over the cleverness of women, but I have not heard him do it of late. And when he speaks of Irene Adler, or when he refers to her photograph, it is always under the honourable title of the woman.

ADVENTURE  II.  THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE


I had called upon my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, one day in the autumn of last year and found him in deep conversation with a very stout, florid-faced, elderly gentleman with fiery red hair. With an apology for my intrusion, I was about to withdraw when Holmes pulled me abruptly into the room and closed the door behind me.

"You could not possibly have come at a better time, my dear Watson," he said cordially.

"I was afraid that you were engaged."

"So I am. Very much so."

"Then I can wait in the next room."

"Not at all. This gentleman, Mr. Wilson, has been my partner and helper in many of my most successful cases, and I have no doubt that he will be of the utmost use to me in yours also."

The stout gentleman half rose from his chair and gave a bob of greeting, with a quick little questioning glance from his small fat-encircled eyes.

"Try the settee," said Holmes, relapsing into his armchair and putting his fingertips together, as was his custom when in judicial moods. "I know, my dear Watson, that you share my love of all that is bizarre and outside the conventions and humdrum routine of everyday life. You have shown your relish for it by the enthusiasm which has prompted you to chronicle, and, if you will excuse my saying so, somewhat to embellish so many of my own little adventures."

"Your cases have indeed been of the greatest interest to me," I observed.

"You will remember that I remarked the other day, just before we went into the very simple problem presented by Miss Mary Sutherland, that for strange effects and extraordinary combinations we must go to life itself, which is always far more daring than any effort of the imagination."

"A proposition which I took the liberty of doubting."

"You did, Doctor, but none the less you must come round to my view, for otherwise I shall keep on piling fact upon fact on you until your reason breaks down under them and acknowledges me to be right. Now, Mr. Jabez Wilson here has been good enough to call upon me this morning, and to begin a narrative which promises to be one of the most singular which I have listened to for some time. You have heard me remark that the strangest and most unique things are very often connected not with the larger but with the smaller crimes, and occasionally, indeed, where there is room for doubt whether any positive crime has been committed. As far as I have heard, it is impossible for me to say whether the present case is an instance of crime or not, but the course of events is certainly among the most singular that I have ever listened to. Perhaps, Mr. Wilson, you would have the great kindness to recommence your narrative. I ask you not merely because my friend Dr. Watson has not heard the opening part but also because the peculiar nature of the story makes me anxious to have every possible detail from your lips. As a rule, when I have heard some slight indication of the course of events, I am able to guide myself by the thousands of other similar cases which occur to my memory. In the present instance I am forced to admit that the facts are, to the best of my belief, unique."

The portly client puffed out his chest with an appearance of some little pride and pulled a dirty and wrinkled newspaper from the inside pocket of his greatcoat. As he glanced down the advertisement column, with his head thrust forward and the paper flattened out upon his knee, I took a good look at the man and endeavoured, after the fashion of my companion, to read the indications which might be presented by his dress or appearance.

I did not gain very much, however, by my inspection. Our visitor bore every mark of being an average commonplace British tradesman, obese, pompous, and slow. He wore rather baggy grey shepherd's check trousers, a not over-clean black frock-coat, unbuttoned in the front, and a drab waistcoat with a heavy brassy Albert chain, and a square pierced bit of metal dangling down as an ornament. A frayed top-hat and a faded brown overcoat with a wrinkled velvet collar lay upon a chair beside him. Altogether, look as I would, there was nothing remarkable about the man save his blazing red head, and the expression of extreme chagrin and discontent upon his features.

Sherlock Holmes' quick eye took in my occupation, and he shook his head with a smile as he noticed my questioning glances. "Beyond the obvious facts that he has at some time done manual labour, that he takes snuff, that he is a Freemason, that he has been in China, and that he has done a considerable amount of writing lately, I can deduce nothing else."

Mr. Jabez Wilson started up in his chair, with his forefinger upon the paper, but his eyes upon my companion.

"How, in the name of good-fortune, did you know all that, Mr. Holmes?" he asked. "How did you know, for example, that I did manual labour. It's as true as gospel, for I began as a ship's carpenter."

"Your hands, my dear sir. Your right hand is quite a size larger than your left. You have worked with it, and the muscles are more developed."

"Well, the snuff, then, and the Freemasonry?"

"I won't insult your intelligence by telling you how I read that, especially as, rather against the strict rules of your order, you use an arc-and-compass breastpin."

"Ah, of course, I forgot that. But the writing?"

"What else can be indicated by that right cuff so very shiny for five inches, and the left one with the smooth patch near the elbow where you rest it upon the desk?"

"Well, but China?"

"The fish that you have tattooed immediately above your right wrist could only have been done in China. I have made a small study of tattoo marks and have even contributed to the literature of the subject. That trick of staining the fishes' scales of a delicate pink is quite peculiar to China. When, in addition, I see a Chinese coin hanging from your watch-chain, the matter becomes even more simple."

Mr. Jabez Wilson laughed heavily. "Well, I never!" said he. "I thought at first that you had done something clever, but I see that there was nothing in it after all."

"I begin to think, Watson," said Holmes, "that I make a mistake in explaining. 'Omne ignotum pro magnifico,' you know, and my poor little reputation, such as it is, will suffer shipwreck if I am so candid. Can you not find the advertisement, Mr. Wilson?"

"Yes, I have got it now," he answered with his thick red finger planted halfway down the column. "Here it is. This is what began it all. You just read it for yourself, sir."

I took the paper from him and read as follows:

"TO THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE: On account of the bequest of the late Ezekiah Hopkins, of Lebanon, Pennsylvania, U. S. A., there is now another vacancy open which entitles a member of the League to a salary of $4 a week for purely nominal services. All red-headed men who are sound in body and mind and above the age of twenty-one years, are eligible. Apply in person on Monday, at eleven o'clock, to Duncan Ross, at the offices of the League, 7 Pope's Court, Fleet Street."

"What on earth does this mean?" I ejaculated after I had twice read over the extraordinary announcement.

Holmes chuckled and wriggled in his chair, as was his habit when in high spirits. "It is a little off the beaten track, isn't it?" said he. "And now, Mr. Wilson, off you go at scratch and tell us all about yourself, your household, and the effect which this advertisement had upon your fortunes. You will first make a note, Doctor, of the paper and the date."

"It is The Morning Chronicle of April 27, 1890. Just two months ago."

"Very good. Now, Mr. Wilson?"

"Well, it is just as I have been telling you, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said Jabez Wilson, mopping his forehead; "I have a small pawnbroker's business at Coburg Square, near the City. It's not a very large affair, and of late years it has not done more than just give me a living. I used to be able to keep two assistants, but now I only keep one; and I would have a job to pay him but that he is willing to come for half wages so as to learn the business."

"What is the name of this obliging youth?" asked Sherlock Holmes.

"His name is Vincent Spaulding, and he's not such a youth, either. It's hard to say his age. I should not wish a smarter assistant, Mr. Holmes; and I know very well that he could better himself and earn twice what I am able to give him. But, after all, if he is satisfied, why should I put ideas in his head?"

"Why, indeed? You seem most fortunate in having an employe who comes under the full market price. It is not a common experience among employers in this age. I don't know that your assistant is not as remarkable as your advertisement."

"Oh, he has his faults, too," said Mr. Wilson. "Never was such a fellow for photography. Snapping away with a camera when he ought to be improving his mind, and then diving down into the cellar like a rabbit into its hole to develop his pictures. That is his main fault, but on the whole he's a good worker. There's no vice in him."

"He is still with you, I presume?"

"Yes, sir. He and a girl of fourteen, who does a bit of simple cooking and keeps the place clean--that's all I have in the house, for I am a widower and never had any family. We live very quietly, sir, the three of us; and we keep a roof over our heads and pay our debts, if we do nothing more.

"The first thing that put us out was that advertisement. Spaulding, he came down into the office just this day eight weeks, with this very paper in his hand, and he says:

" 'I wish to the Lord, Mr. Wilson, that I was a red-headed man.'

" 'Why that?' I asks.

" 'Why,' says he, 'here's another vacancy on the League of the Red-headed Men. It's worth quite a little fortune to any man who gets it, and I understand that there are more vacancies than there are men, so that the trustees are at their wits' end what to do with the money. If my hair would only change colour, here's a nice little crib all ready for me to step into.'

" 'Why, what is it, then?' I asked. You see, Mr. Holmes, I am a very stay-at-home man, and as my business came to me instead of my having to go to it, I was often weeks on end without putting my foot over the door-mat. In that way I didn't know much of what was going on outside, and I was always glad of a bit of news.

" 'Have you never heard of the League of the Red-headed Men?' he asked with his eyes open.

" 'Never.'

" 'Why, I wonder at that, for you are eligible yourself for one of the vacancies.'

" 'And what are they worth?' I asked.

" 'Oh, merely a couple of hundred a year, but the work is slight, and it need not interfere very much with one's other occupations.'

"Well, you can easily think that that made me prick up my ears, for the business has not been over good for some years, and an extra couple of hundred would have been very handy.

" 'Tell me all about it,' said I.

" 'Well,' said he, showing me the advertisement, 'you can see for yourself that the League has a vacancy, and there is the address where you should apply for particulars. As far as I can make out, the League was founded by an American millionaire, Ezekiah Hopkins, who was very peculiar in his ways. He was himself red-headed, and he had a great sympathy for all red-headed men; so, when he died, it was found that he had left his enormous fortune in the hands of trustees, with instructions to apply the interest to the providing of easy berths to men whose hair is of that colour. From all I hear it is splendid pay and very little to do.'

" 'But,' said I, 'there would be millions of red-headed men who would apply.'

" 'Not so many as you might think,' he answered. 'You see it is really confined to Londoners, and to grown men. This American had started from London when he was young, and he wanted to do the old town a good turn. Then, again, I have heard it is no use your applying if your hair is light red, or dark red, or anything but real bright, blazing, fiery red. Now, if you cared to apply, Mr. Wilson, you would just walk in; but perhaps it would hardly be worth your while to put yourself out of the way for the sake of a few hundred pounds.'

"Now, it is a fact, gentlemen, as you may see for yourselves, that my hair is of a very full and rich tint, so that it seemed to me that if there was to be any competition in the matter I stood as good a chance as any man that I had ever met. Vincent Spaulding seemed to know so much about it that I thought he might prove useful, so I just ordered him to put up the shutters for the day and to come right away with me. He was very willing to have a holiday, so we shut the business up and started off for the address that was given us in the advertisement.

"I never hope to see such a sight as that again, Mr. Holmes. From north, south, east, and west every man who had a shade of red in his hair had tramped into the city to answer the advertisement. Fleet Street was choked with red-headed folk, and Pope's Court looked like a coster's orange barrow. I should not have thought there were so many in the whole country as were brought together by that single advertisement. Every shade of colour they were--straw, lemon, orange, brick, Irish-setter, liver, clay; but, as Spaulding said, there were not many who had the real vivid flame-coloured tint. When I saw how many were waiting, I would have given it up in despair; but Spaulding would not hear of it. How he did it I could not imagine, but he pushed and pulled and butted until he got me through the crowd, and right up to the steps which led to the office. There was a double stream upon the stair, some going up in hope, and some coming back dejected; but we wedged in as well as we could and soon found ourselves in the office."

"Your experience has been a most entertaining one," remarked Holmes as his client paused and refreshed his memory with a huge pinch of snuff. "Pray continue your very interesting statement."

"There was nothing in the office but a couple of wooden chairs and a deal table, behind which sat a small man with a head that was even redder than mine. He said a few words to each candidate as he came up, and then he always managed to find some fault in them which would disqualify them. Getting a vacancy did not seem to be such a very easy matter, after all. However, when our turn came the little man was much more favourable to me than to any of the others, and he closed the door as we entered, so that he might have a private word with us.

" 'This is Mr. Jabez Wilson,' said my assistant, 'and he is willing to fill a vacancy in the League.'

" 'And he is admirably suited for it,' the other answered. 'He has every requirement. I cannot recall when I have seen anything so fine.' He took a step backward, cocked his head on one side, and gazed at my hair until I felt quite bashful. Then suddenly he plunged forward, wrung my hand, and congratulated me warmly on my success.

" 'It would be injustice to hesitate,' said he. 'You will, however, I am sure, excuse me for taking an obvious precaution.' With that he seized my hair in both his hands, and tugged until I yelled with the pain. 'There is water in your eyes,' said he as he released me. 'I perceive that all is as it should be. But we have to be careful, for we have twice been deceived by wigs and once by paint. I could tell you tales of cobbler's wax which would disgust you with human nature.' He stepped over to the window and shouted through it at the top of his voice that the vacancy was filled. A groan of disappointment came up from below, and the folk all trooped away in different directions until there was not a red-head to be seen except my own and that of the manager.

" 'My name,' said he, 'is Mr. Duncan Ross, and I am myself one of the pensioners upon the fund left by our noble benefactor. Are you a married man, Mr. Wilson? Have you a family?'

"I answered that I had not.

"His face fell immediately.

" 'Dear me!' he said gravely, 'that is very serious indeed! I am sorry to hear you say that. The fund was, of course, for the propagation and spread of the red-heads as well as for their maintenance. It is exceedingly unfortunate that you should be a bachelor.'

"My face lengthened at this, Mr. Holmes, for I thought that I was not to have the vacancy after all; but after thinking it over for a few minutes he said that it would be all right.

" 'In the case of another,' said he, 'the objection might be fatal, but we must stretch a point in favour of a man with such a head of hair as yours. When shall you be able to enter upon your new duties?'

" 'Well, it is a little awkward, for I have a business already,' said I.

" 'Oh, never mind about that, Mr. Wilson!' said Vincent Spaulding. 'I should be able to look after that for you.'

" 'What would be the hours?' I asked.

" 'Ten to two.'

"Now a pawnbroker's business is mostly done of an evening, Mr. Holmes, especially Thursday and Friday evening, which is just before pay-day; so it would suit me very well to earn a little in the mornings. Besides, I knew that my assistant was a good man, and that he would see to anything that turned up.

" 'That would suit me very well,' said I. 'And the pay?'

" 'Is $4 a week.'

" 'And the work?'

" 'Is purely nominal.'

" 'What do you call purely nominal?'

" 'Well, you have to be in the office, or at least in the building, the whole time. If you leave, you forfeit your whole position forever. The will is very clear upon that point. You don't comply with the conditions if you budge from the office during that time.'

" 'It's only four hours a day, and I should not think of leaving,' said I.

" 'No excuse will avail,' said Mr. Duncan Ross; 'neither sickness nor business nor anything else. There you must stay, or you lose your billet.'

" 'And the work?'

" 'Is to copy out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. There is the first volume of it in that press. You must find your own ink, pens, and blotting-paper, but we provide this table and chair. Will you be ready to-morrow?'

" 'Certainly,' I answered.

" 'Then, good-bye, Mr. Jabez Wilson, and let me congratulate you once more on the important position which you have been fortunate enough to gain.' He bowed me out of the room and I went home with my assistant, hardly knowing what to say or do, I was so pleased at my own good fortune.

"Well, I thought over the matter all day, and by evening I was in low spirits again; for I had quite persuaded myself that the whole affair must be some great hoax or fraud, though what its object might be I could not imagine. It seemed altogether past belief that anyone could make such a will, or that they would pay such a sum for doing anything so simple as copying out the Encyclopaedia Britannica. Vincent Spaulding did what he could to cheer me up, but by bedtime I had reasoned myself out of the whole thing. However, in the morning I determined to have a look at it anyhow, so I bought a penny bottle of ink, and with a quill-pen, and seven sheets of foolscap paper, I started off for Pope's Court.

"Well, to my surprise and delight, everything was as right as possible. The table was set out ready for me, and Mr. Duncan Ross was there to see that I got fairly to work. He started me off upon the letter A, and then he left me; but he would drop in from time to time to see that all was right with me. At two o'clock he bade me good-day, complimented me upon the amount that I had written, and locked the door of the office after me.

"This went on day after day, Mr. Holmes, and on Saturday the manager came in and planked down four golden sovereigns for my week's work. It was the same next week, and the same the week after. Every morning I was there at ten, and every afternoon I left at two. By degrees Mr. Duncan Ross took to coming in only once of a morning, and then, after a time, he did not come in at all. Still, of course, I never dared to leave the room for an instant, for I was not sure when he might come, and the billet was such a good one, and suited me so well, that I would not risk the loss of it.

"Eight weeks passed away like this, and I had written about Abbots and Archery and Armour and Architecture and Attica, and hoped with diligence that I might get on to the B's before very long. It cost me something in foolscap, and I had pretty nearly filled a shelf with my writings. And then suddenly the whole business came to an end."

"To an end?"

"Yes, sir. And no later than this morning. I went to my work as usual at ten o'clock, but the door was shut and locked, with a little square of cardboard hammered on to the middle of the panel with a tack. Here it is, and you can read for yourself."

He held up a piece of white cardboard about the size of a sheet of note-paper. It read in this fashion:


THE RED-HEADED LEAGUE

IS

DISSOLVED.

October 9, 1890.


Sherlock Holmes and I surveyed this curt announcement and the rueful face behind it, until the comical side of the affair so completely overtopped every other consideration that we both burst out into a roar of laughter.

"I cannot see that there is anything very funny," cried our client, flushing up to the roots of his flaming head. "If you can do nothing better than laugh at me, I can go elsewhere."

"No, no," cried Holmes, shoving him back into the chair from which he had half risen. "I really wouldn't miss your case for the world. It is most refreshingly unusual. But there is, if you will excuse my saying so, something just a little funny about it. Pray what steps did you take when you found the card upon the door?"

"I was staggered, sir. I did not know what to do. Then I called at the offices round, but none of them seemed to know anything about it. Finally, I went to the landlord, who is an accountant living on the ground floor, and I asked him if he could tell me what had become of the Red-headed League. He said that he had never heard of any such body. Then I asked him who Mr. Duncan Ross was. He answered that the name was new to him.

" 'Well,' said I, 'the gentleman at No. 4.'

" 'What, the red-headed man?'

" 'Yes.'

" 'Oh,' said he, 'his name was William Morris. He was a solicitor and was using my room as a temporary convenience until his new premises were ready. He moved out yesterday.'

" 'Where could I find him?'

" 'Oh, at his new offices. He did tell me the address. Yes, 17 King Edward Street, near St. Paul's.'

"I started off, Mr. Holmes, but when I got to that address it was a manufactory of artificial knee-caps, and no one in it had ever heard of either Mr. William Morris or Mr. Duncan Ross."

"And what did you do then?" asked Holmes.

"I went home to Saxe-Coburg Square, and I took the advice of my assistant. But he could not help me in any way. He could only say that if I waited I should hear by post. But that was not quite good enough, Mr. Holmes. I did not wish to lose such a place without a struggle, so, as I had heard that you were good enough to give advice to poor folk who were in need of it, I came right away to you."

"And you did very wisely," said Holmes. "Your case is an exceedingly remarkable one, and I shall be happy to look into it. From what you have told me I think that it is possible that graver issues hang from it than might at first sight appear."

"Grave enough!" said Mr. Jabez Wilson. "Why, I have lost four pound a week."

"As far as you are personally concerned," remarked Holmes, "I do not see that you have any grievance against this extraordinary league. On the contrary, you are, as I understand, richer by some $30, to say nothing of the minute knowledge which you have gained on every subject which comes under the letter A. You have lost nothing by them."

"No, sir. But I want to find out about them, and who they are, and what their object was in playing this prank--if it was a prank--upon me. It was a pretty expensive joke for them, for it cost them two and thirty pounds."

"We shall endeavour to clear up these points for you. And, first, one or two questions, Mr. Wilson. This assistant of yours who first called your attention to the advertisement--how long had he been with you?"

"About a month then."

"How did he come?"

"In answer to an advertisement."

"Was he the only applicant?"

"No, I had a dozen."

"Why did you pick him?"

"Because he was handy and would come cheap."

"At half wages, in fact."

"Yes."

"What is he like, this Vincent Spaulding?"

"Small, stout-built, very quick in his ways, no hair on his face, though he's not short of thirty. Has a white splash of acid upon his forehead."

Holmes sat up in his chair in considerable excitement. "I thought as much," said he. "Have you ever observed that his ears are pierced for earrings?"

"Yes, sir. He told me that a gipsy had done it for him when he was a lad."

"Hum!" said Holmes, sinking back in deep thought. "He is still with you?"

"Oh, yes, sir; I have only just left him."

"And has your business been attended to in your absence?"

"Nothing to complain of, sir. There's never very much to do of a morning."

"That will do, Mr. Wilson. I shall be happy to give you an opinion upon the subject in the course of a day or two. To-day is Saturday, and I hope that by Monday we may come to a conclusion."

"Well, Watson," said Holmes when our visitor had left us, "what do you make of it all?"

"I make nothing of it," I answered frankly. "It is a most mysterious business."

"As a rule," said Holmes, "the more bizarre a thing is the less mysterious it proves to be. It is your commonplace, featureless crimes which are really puzzling, just as a commonplace face is the most difficult to identify. But I must be prompt over this matter."

"What are you going to do, then?" I asked.

"To smoke," he answered. "It is quite a three pipe problem, and I beg that you won't speak to me for fifty minutes." He curled himself up in his chair, with his thin knees drawn up to his hawk-like nose, and there he sat with his eyes closed and his black clay pipe thrusting out like the bill of some strange bird. I had come to the conclusion that he had dropped asleep, and indeed was nodding myself, when he suddenly sprang out of his chair with the gesture of a man who has made up his mind and put his pipe down upon the mantelpiece.

"Sarasate plays at the St. James's Hall this afternoon," he remarked. "What do you think, Watson? Could your patients spare you for a few hours?"

"I have nothing to do to-day. My practice is never very absorbing."

"Then put on your hat and come. I am going through the City first, and we can have some lunch on the way. I observe that there is a good deal of German music on the programme, which is rather more to my taste than Italian or French. It is introspective, and I want to introspect. Come along!"

We travelled by the Underground as far as Aldersgate; and a short walk took us to Saxe-Coburg Square, the scene of the singular story which we had listened to in the morning. It was a poky, little, shabby-genteel place, where four lines of dingy two-storied brick houses looked out into a small railed-in enclosure, where a lawn of weedy grass and a few clumps of faded laurel bushes made a hard fight against a smoke-laden and uncongenial atmosphere. Three gilt balls and a brown board with "JABEZ WILSON" in white letters, upon a corner house, announced the place where our red-headed client carried on his business. Sherlock Holmes stopped in front of it with his head on one side and looked it all over, with his eyes shining brightly between puckered lids. Then he walked slowly up the street, and then down again to the corner, still looking keenly at the houses. Finally he returned to the pawnbroker's, and, having thumped vigorously upon the pavement with his stick two or three times, he went up to the door and knocked. It was instantly opened by a bright-looking, clean-shaven young fellow, who asked him to step in.

"Thank you," said Holmes, "I only wished to ask you how you would go from here to the Strand."

"Third right, fourth left," answered the assistant promptly, closing the door.

"Smart fellow, that," observed Holmes as we walked away. "He is, in my judgment, the fourth smartest man in London, and for daring I am not sure that he has not a claim to be third. I have known something of him before."

"Evidently," said I, "Mr. Wilson's assistant counts for a good deal in this mystery of the Red-headed League. I am sure that you inquired your way merely in order that you might see him."

"Not him."

"What then?"

"The knees of his trousers."

"And what did you see?"

"What I expected to see."

"Why did you beat the pavement?"

"My dear doctor, this is a time for observation, not for talk. We are spies in an enemy's country. We know something of Saxe-Coburg Square. Let us now explore the parts which lie behind it."

The road in which we found ourselves as we turned round the corner from the retired Saxe-Coburg Square presented as great a contrast to it as the front of a picture does to the back. It was one of the main arteries which conveyed the traffic of the City to the north and west. The roadway was blocked with the immense stream of commerce flowing in a double tide inward and outward, while the footpaths were black with the hurrying swarm of pedestrians. It was difficult to realise as we looked at the line of fine shops and stately business premises that they really abutted on the other side upon the faded and stagnant square which we had just quitted.

"Let me see," said Holmes, standing at the corner and glancing along the line, "I should like just to remember the order of the houses here. It is a hobby of mine to have an exact knowledge of London. There is Mortimer's, the tobacconist, the little newspaper shop, the Coburg branch of the City and Suburban Bank, the Vegetarian Restaurant, and McFarlane's carriage-building depot. That carries us right on to the other block. And now, Doctor, we've done our work, so it's time we had some play. A sandwich and a cup of coffee, and then off to violin-land, where all is sweetness and delicacy and harmony, and there are no red-headed clients to vex us with their conundrums."

My friend was an enthusiastic musician, being himself not only a very capable performer but a composer of no ordinary merit. All the afternoon he sat in the stalls wrapped in the most perfect happiness, gently waving his long, thin fingers in time to the music, while his gently smiling face and his languid, dreamy eyes were as unlike those of Holmes the sleuth-hound, Holmes the relentless, keen-witted, ready-handed criminal agent, as it was possible to conceive. In his singular character the dual nature alternately asserted itself, and his extreme exactness and astuteness represented, as I have often thought, the reaction against the poetic and contemplative mood which occasionally predominated in him. The swing of his nature took him from extreme languor to devouring energy; and, as I knew well, he was never so truly formidable as when, for days on end, he had been lounging in his armchair amid his improvisations and his black-letter editions. Then it was that the lust of the chase would suddenly come upon him, and that his brilliant reasoning power would rise to the level of intuition, until those who were unacquainted with his methods would look askance at him as on a man whose knowledge was not that of other mortals. When I saw him that afternoon so enwrapped in the music at St. James's Hall I felt that an evil time might be coming upon those whom he had set himself to hunt down.

"You want to go home, no doubt, Doctor," he remarked as we emerged.

"Yes, it would be as well."

"And I have some business to do which will take some hours. This business at Coburg Square is serious."

"Why serious?"

"A considerable crime is in contemplation. I have every reason to believe that we shall be in time to stop it. But to-day being Saturday rather complicates matters. I shall want your help to-night."

"At what time?"

"Ten will be early enough."

"I shall be at Baker Street at ten."

"Very well. And, I say, Doctor, there may be some little danger, so kindly put your army revolver in your pocket." He waved his hand, turned on his heel, and disappeared in an instant among the crowd.

I trust that I am not more dense than my neighbours, but I was always oppressed with a sense of my own stupidity in my dealings with Sherlock Holmes. Here I had heard what he had heard, I had seen what he had seen, and yet from his words it was evident that he saw clearly not only what had happened but what was about to happen, while to me the whole business was still confused and grotesque. As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thought over it all, from the extraordinary story of the red-headed copier of the Encyclopaedia down to the visit to Saxe-Coburg Square, and the ominous words with which he had parted from me. What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? Where were we going, and what were we to do? I had the hint from Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbroker's assistant was a formidable man--a man who might play a deep game. I tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in despair and set the matter aside until night should bring an explanation.

It was a quarter-past nine when I started from home and made my way across the Park, and so through Oxford Street to Baker Street. Two hansoms were standing at the door, and as I entered the passage I heard the sound of voices from above. On entering his room, I found Holmes in animated conversation with two men, one of whom I recognised as Peter Jones, the official police agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad-faced man, with a very shiny hat and oppressively respectable frock-coat.

"Ha! Our party is complete," said Holmes, buttoning up his pea-jacket and taking his heavy hunting crop from the rack. "Watson, I think you know Mr. Jones, of Scotland Yard? Let me introduce you to Mr. Merryweather, who is to be our companion in to-night's adventure."

"We're hunting in couples again, Doctor, you see," said Jones in his consequential way. "Our friend here is a wonderful man for starting a chase. All he wants is an old dog to help him to do the running down."

"I hope a wild goose may not prove to be the end of our chase," observed Mr. Merryweather gloomily.

"You may place considerable confidence in Mr. Holmes, sir," said the police agent loftily. "He has his own little methods, which are, if he won't mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical and fantastic, but he has the makings of a detective in him. It is not too much to say that once or twice, as in that business of the Sholto murder and the Agra treasure, he has been more nearly correct than the official force."

"Oh, if you say so, Mr. Jones, it is all right," said the stranger with deference. "Still, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is the first Saturday night for seven-and-twenty years that I have not had my rubber."

"I think you will find," said Sherlock Holmes, "that you will play for a higher stake to-night than you have ever done yet, and that the play will be more exciting. For you, Mr. Merryweather, the stake will be some $30,000; and for you, Jones, it will be the man upon whom you wish to lay your hands."

"John Clay, the murderer, thief, smasher, and forger. He's a young man, Mr. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, and I would rather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London. He's a remarkable man, is young John Clay. His grandfather was a royal duke, and he himself has been to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers, and though we meet signs of him at every turn, we never know where to find the man himself. He'll crack a crib in Scotland one week, and be raising money to build an orphanage in Cornwall the next. I've been on his track for years and have never set eyes on him yet."

"I hope that I may have the pleasure of introducing you to-night. I've had one or two little turns also with Mr. John Clay, and I agree with you that he is at the head of his profession. It is past ten, however, and quite time that we started. If you two will take the first hansom, Watson and I will follow in the second."

Sherlock Holmes was not very communicative during the long drive and lay back in the cab humming the tunes which he had heard in the afternoon. We rattled through an endless labyrinth of gas-lit streets until we emerged into Farrington Street.

"We are close there now," my friend remarked. "This fellow Merryweather is a bank director, and personally interested in the matter. I thought it as well to have Jones with us also. He is not a bad fellow, though an absolute imbecile in his profession. He has one positive virtue. He is as brave as a bulldog and as tenacious as a lobster if he gets his claws upon anyone. Here we are, and they are waiting for us."

We had reached the same crowded thoroughfare in which we had found ourselves in the morning. Our cabs were dismissed, and, following the guidance of Mr. Merryweather, we passed down a narrow passage and through a side door, which he opened for us. Within there was a small corridor, which ended in a very massive iron gate. This also was opened, and led down a flight of winding stone steps, which terminated at another formidable gate. Mr. Merryweather stopped to light a lantern, and then conducted us down a dark, earth-smelling passage, and so, after opening a third door, into a huge vault or cellar, which was piled all round with crates and massive boxes.

"You are not very vulnerable from above," Holmes remarked as he held up the lantern and gazed about him.

"Nor from below," said Mr. Merryweather, striking his stick upon the flags which lined the floor. "Why, dear me, it sounds quite hollow!" he remarked, looking up in surprise.

"I must really ask you to be a little more quiet!" said Holmes severely. "You have already imperilled the whole success of our expedition. Might I beg that you would have the goodness to sit down upon one of those boxes, and not to interfere?"

The solemn Mr. Merryweather perched himself upon a crate, with a very injured expression upon his face, while Holmes fell upon his knees upon the floor and, with the lantern and a magnifying lens, began to examine minutely the cracks between the stones. A few seconds sufficed to satisfy him, for he sprang to his feet again and put his glass in his pocket.

"We have at least an hour before us," he remarked, "for they can hardly take any steps until the good pawnbroker is safely in bed. Then they will not lose a minute, for the sooner they do their work the longer time they will have for their escape. We are at present, Doctor--as no doubt you have divined--in the cellar of the City branch of one of the principal London banks. Mr. Merryweather is the chairman of directors, and he will explain to you that there are reasons why the more daring criminals of London should take a considerable interest in this cellar at present."

"It is our French gold," whispered the director. "We have had several warnings that an attempt might be made upon it."

"Your French gold?"

"Yes. We had occasion some months ago to strengthen our resources and borrowed for that purpose 30,000 napoleons from the Bank of France. It has become known that we have never had occasion to unpack the money, and that it is still lying in our cellar. The crate upon which I sit contains 2,000 napoleons packed between layers of lead foil. Our reserve of bullion is much larger at present than is usually kept in a single branch office, and the directors have had misgivings upon the subject."

"Which were very well justified," observed Holmes. "And now it is time that we arranged our little plans. I expect that within an hour matters will come to a head. In the meantime Mr. Merryweather, we must put the screen over that dark lantern."

"And sit in the dark?"

"I am afraid so. I had brought a pack of cards in my pocket, and I thought that, as we were a partie carree, you might have your rubber after all. But I see that the enemy's preparations have gone so far that we cannot risk the presence of a light. And, first of all, we must choose our positions. These are daring men, and though we shall take them at a disadvantage, they may do us some harm unless we are careful. I shall stand behind this crate, and do you conceal yourselves behind those. Then, when I flash a light upon them, close in swiftly. If they fire, Watson, have no compunction about shooting them down."

I placed my revolver, cocked, upon the top of the wooden case behind which I crouched. Holmes shot the slide across the front of his lantern and left us in pitch darkness--such an absolute darkness as I have never before experienced. The smell of hot metal remained to assure us that the light was still there, ready to flash out at a moment's notice. To me, with my nerves worked up to a pitch of expectancy, there was something depressing and subduing in the sudden gloom, and in the cold dank air of the vault.

"They have but one retreat," whispered Holmes. "That is back through the house into Saxe-Coburg Square. I hope that you have done what I asked you, Jones?"

"I have an inspector and two officers waiting at the front door."

"Then we have stopped all the holes. And now we must be silent and wait."

What a time it seemed! From comparing notes afterwards it was but an hour and a quarter, yet it appeared to me that the night must have almost gone, and the dawn be breaking above us. My limbs were weary and stiff, for I feared to change my position; yet my nerves were worked up to the highest pitch of tension, and my hearing was so acute that I could not only hear the gentle breathing of my companions, but I could distinguish the deeper, heavier in-breath of the bulky Jones from the thin, sighing note of the bank director. From my position I could look over the case in the direction of the floor. Suddenly my eyes caught the glint of a light.

At first it was but a lurid spark upon the stone pavement. Then it lengthened out until it became a yellow line, and then, without any warning or sound, a gash seemed to open and a hand appeared, a white, almost womanly hand, which felt about in the centre of the little area of light. For a minute or more the hand, with its writhing fingers, protruded out of the floor. Then it was withdrawn as suddenly as it appeared, and all was dark again save the single lurid spark which marked a chink between the stones.

Its disappearance, however, was but momentary. With a rending, tearing sound, one of the broad, white stones turned over upon its side and left a square, gaping hole, through which streamed the light of a lantern. Over the edge there peeped a clean-cut, boyish face, which looked keenly about it, and then, with a hand on either side of the aperture, drew itself shoulder-high and waist-high, until one knee rested upon the edge. In another instant he stood at the side of the hole and was hauling after him a companion, lithe and small like himself, with a pale face and a shock of very red hair.

"It's all clear," he whispered. "Have you the chisel and the bags? Great Scott! Jump, Archie, jump, and I'll swing for it!"

Sherlock Holmes had sprung out and seized the intruder by the collar. The other dived down the hole, and I heard the sound of rending cloth as Jones clutched at his skirts. The light flashed upon the barrel of a revolver, but Holmes' hunting crop came down on the man's wrist, and the pistol clinked upon the stone floor.

"It's no use, John Clay," said Holmes blandly. "You have no chance at all."

"So I see," the other answered with the utmost coolness. "I fancy that my pal is all right, though I see you have got his coat-tails."

"There are three men waiting for him at the door," said Holmes.

"Oh, indeed! You seem to have done the thing very completely. I must compliment you."

"And I you," Holmes answered. "Your red-headed idea was very new and effective."

"You'll see your pal again presently," said Jones. "He's quicker at climbing down holes than I am. Just hold out while I fix the derbies."

"I beg that you will not touch me with your filthy hands," remarked our prisoner as the handcuffs clattered upon his wrists. "You may not be aware that I have royal blood in my veins. Have the goodness, also, when you address me always to say 'sir' and 'please.' "

"All right," said Jones with a stare and a snigger. "Well, would you please, sir, march upstairs, where we can get a cab to carry your Highness to the police-station?"

"That is better," said John Clay serenely. He made a sweeping bow to the three of us and walked quietly off in the custody of the detective.

"Really, Mr. Holmes," said Mr. Merryweather as we followed them from the cellar, "I do not know how the bank can thank you or repay you. There is no doubt that you have detected and defeated in the most complete manner one of the most determined attempts at bank robbery that have ever come within my experience."

"I have had one or two little scores of my own to settle with Mr. John Clay," said Holmes. "I have been at some small expense over this matter, which I shall expect the bank to refund, but beyond that I am amply repaid by having had an experience which is in many ways unique, and by hearing the very remarkable narrative of the Red-headed League."

"You see, Watson," he explained in the early hours of the morning as we sat over a glass of whisky and soda in Baker Street, "it was perfectly obvious from the first that the only possible object of this rather fantastic business of the advertisement of the League, and the copying of the Encyclopaedia, must be to get this not over-bright pawnbroker out of the way for a number of hours every day. It was a curious way of managing it, but, really, it would be difficult to suggest a better. The method was no doubt suggested to Clay's ingenious mind by the colour of his accomplice's hair. The $4 a week was a lure which must draw him, and what was it to them, who were playing for thousands? They put in the advertisement, one rogue has the temporary office, the other rogue incites the man to apply for it, and together they manage to secure his absence every morning in the week. From the time that I heard of the assistant having come for half wages, it was obvious to me that he had some strong motive for securing the situation."

"But how could you guess what the motive was?"

"Had there been women in the house, I should have suspected a mere vulgar intrigue. That, however, was out of the question. The man's business was a small one, and there was nothing in his house which could account for such elaborate preparations, and such an expenditure as they were at. It must, then, be something out of the house. What could it be? I thought of the assistant's fondness for photography, and his trick of vanishing into the cellar. The cellar! There was the end of this tangled clue. Then I made inquiries as to this mysterious assistant and found that I had to deal with one of the coolest and most daring criminals in London. He was doing something in the cellar--something which took many hours a day for months on end. What could it be, once more? I could think of nothing save that he was running a tunnel to some other building.

"So far I had got when we went to visit the scene of action. I surprised you by beating upon the pavement with my stick. I was ascertaining whether the cellar stretched out in front or behind. It was not in front. Then I rang the bell, and, as I hoped, the assistant answered it. We have had some skirmishes, but we had never set eyes upon each other before. I hardly looked at his face. His knees were what I wished to see. You must yourself have remarked how worn, wrinkled, and stained they were. They spoke of those hours of burrowing. The only remaining point was what they were burrowing for. I walked round the corner, saw the City and Suburban Bank abutted on our friend's premises, and felt that I had solved my problem. When you drove home after the concert I called upon Scotland Yard and upon the chairman of the bank directors, with the result that you have seen."

"And how could you tell that they would make their attempt to-night?" I asked.

"Well, when they closed their League offices that was a sign that they cared no longer about Mr. Jabez Wilson's presence--in other words, that they had completed their tunnel. But it was essential that they should use it soon, as it might be discovered, or the bullion might be removed. Saturday would suit them better than any other day, as it would give them two days for their escape. For all these reasons I expected them to come to-night."

"You reasoned it out beautifully," I exclaimed in unfeigned admiration. "It is so long a chain, and yet every link rings true."

"It saved me from ennui," he answered, yawning. "Alas! I already feel it closing in upon me. My life is spent in one long effort to escape from the commonplaces of existence. These little problems help me to do so."

"And you are a benefactor of the race," said I.

He shrugged his shoulders. "Well, perhaps, after all, it is of some little use," he remarked. " 'L'homme c'est rien--l'oeuvre c'est tout,' as Gustave Flaubert wrote to George Sand."

ADVENTURE  III.  A CASE OF IDENTITY


"My dear fellow," said Sherlock Holmes as we sat on either side of the fire in his lodgings at Baker Street, "life is infinitely stranger than anything which the mind of man could invent. We would not dare to conceive the things which are really mere commonplaces of existence. If we could fly out of that window hand in hand, hover over this great city, gently remove the roofs, and peep in at the queer things which are going on, the strange coincidences, the plannings, the cross-purposes, the wonderful chains of events, working through generations, and leading to the most outre results, it would make all fiction with its conventionalities and foreseen conclusions most stale and unprofitable."

"And yet I am not convinced of it," I answered. "The cases which come to light in the papers are, as a rule, bald enough, and vulgar enough. We have in our police reports realism pushed to its extreme limits, and yet the result is, it must be confessed, neither fascinating nor artistic."

"A certain selection and discretion must be used in producing a realistic effect," remarked Holmes. "This is wanting in the police report, where more stress is laid, perhaps, upon the platitudes of the magistrate than upon the details, which to an observer contain the vital essence of the whole matter. Depend upon it, there is nothing so unnatural as the commonplace."

I smiled and shook my head. "I can quite understand your thinking so." I said. "Of course, in your position of unofficial adviser and helper to everybody who is absolutely puzzled, throughout three continents, you are brought in contact with all that is strange and bizarre. But here"--I picked up the morning paper from the ground--"let us put it to a practical test. Here is the first heading upon which I come. 'A husband's cruelty to his wife.' There is half a column of print, but I know without reading it that it is all perfectly familiar to me. There is, of course, the other woman, the drink, the push, the blow, the bruise, the sympathetic sister or landlady. The crudest of writers could invent nothing more crude."

"Indeed, your example is an unfortunate one for your argument," said Holmes, taking the paper and glancing his eye down it. "This is the Dundas separation case, and, as it happens, I was engaged in clearing up some small points in connection with it. The husband was a teetotaler, there was no other woman, and the conduct complained of was that he had drifted into the habit of winding up every meal by taking out his false teeth and hurling them at his wife, which, you will allow, is not an action likely to occur to the imagination of the average story-teller. Take a pinch of snuff, Doctor, and acknowledge that I have scored over you in your example."

He held out his snuffbox of old gold, with a great amethyst in the centre of the lid. Its splendour was in such contrast to his homely ways and simple life that I could not help commenting upon it.

"Ah," said he, "I forgot that I had not seen you for some weeks. It is a little souvenir from the King of Bohemia in return for my assistance in the case of the Irene Adler papers."

"And the ring?" I asked, glancing at a remarkable brilliant which sparkled upon his finger.

"It was from the reigning family of Holland, though the matter in which I served them was of such delicacy that I cannot confide it even to you, who have been good enough to chronicle one or two of my little problems."

"And have you any on hand just now?" I asked with interest.

"Some ten or twelve, but none which present any feature of interest. They are important, you understand, without being interesting. Indeed, I have found that it is usually in unimportant matters that there is a field for the observation, and for the quick analysis of cause and effect which gives the charm to an investigation. The larger crimes are apt to be the simpler, for the bigger the crime the more obvious, as a rule, is the motive. In these cases, save for one rather intricate matter which has been referred to me from Marseilles, there is nothing which presents any features of interest. It is possible, however, that I may have something better before very many minutes are over, for this is one of my clients, or I am much mistaken."

He had risen from his chair and was standing between the parted blinds gazing down into the dull neutral-tinted London street. Looking over his shoulder, I saw that on the pavement opposite there stood a large woman with a heavy fur boa round her neck, and a large curling red feather in a broad-brimmed hat which was tilted in a coquettish Duchess of Devonshire fashion over her ear. From under this great panoply she peeped up in a nervous, hesitating fashion at our windows, while her body oscillated backward and forward, and her fingers fidgeted with her glove buttons. Suddenly, with a plunge, as of the swimmer who leaves the bank, she hurried across the road, and we heard the sharp clang of the bell.

"I have seen those symptoms before," said Holmes, throwing his cigarette into the fire. "Oscillation upon the pavement always means an affaire de coeur. She would like advice, but is not sure that the matter is not too delicate for communication. And yet even here we may discriminate. When a woman has been seriously wronged by a man she no longer oscillates, and the usual symptom is a broken bell wire. Here we may take it that there is a love matter, but that the maiden is not so much angry as perplexed, or grieved. But here she comes in person to resolve our doubts."

As he spoke there was a tap at the door, and the boy in buttons entered to announce Miss Mary Sutherland, while the lady herself loomed behind his small black figure like a full-sailed merchant-man behind a tiny pilot boat. Sherlock Holmes welcomed her with the easy courtesy for which he was remarkable, and, having closed the door and bowed her into an armchair, he looked her over in the minute and yet abstracted fashion which was peculiar to him.

"Do you not find," he said, "that with your short sight it is a little trying to do so much typewriting?"

"I did at first," she answered, "but now I know where the letters are without looking." Then, suddenly realising the full purport of his words, she gave a violent start and looked up, with fear and astonishment upon her broad, good-humoured face. "You've heard about me, Mr. Holmes," she cried, "else how could you know all that?"

"Never mind," said Holmes, laughing; "it is my business to know things. Perhaps I have trained myself to see what others overlook. If not, why should you come to consult me?"

"I came to you, sir, because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege, whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyone had given him up for dead. Oh, Mr. Holmes, I wish you would do as much for me. I'm not rich, but still I have a hundred a year in my own right, besides the little that I make by the machine, and I would give it all to know what has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel."

"Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry?" asked Sherlock Holmes, with his finger-tips together and his eyes to the ceiling.

Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous face of Miss Mary Sutherland. "Yes, I did bang out of the house," she said, "for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr. Windibank--that is, my father--took it all. He would not go to the police, and he would not go to you, and so at last, as he would do nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done, it made me mad, and I just on with my things and came right away to you."

"Your father," said Holmes, "your stepfather, surely, since the name is different."

"Yes, my stepfather. I call him father, though it sounds funny, too, for he is only five years and two months older than myself."

"And your mother is alive?"

"Oh, yes, mother is alive and well. I wasn't best pleased, Mr. Holmes, when she married again so soon after father's death, and a man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself. Father was a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road, and he left a tidy business behind him, which mother carried on with Mr. Hardy, the foreman; but when Mr. Windibank came he made her sell the business, for he was very superior, being a traveller in wines. They got $4700 for the goodwill and interest, which wasn't near as much as father could have got if he had been alive."

I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under this rambling and inconsequential narrative, but, on the contrary, he had listened with the greatest concentration of attention.

"Your own little income," he asked, "does it come out of the business?"

"Oh, no, sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncle Ned in Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock, paying 4 1/4 per cent. Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount, but I can only touch the interest."

"You interest me extremely," said Holmes. "And since you draw so large a sum as a hundred a year, with what you earn into the bargain, you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in every way. I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely upon an income of about $60."

"I could do with much less than that, Mr. Holmes, but you understand that as long as I live at home I don't wish to be a burden to them, and so they have the use of the money just while I am staying with them. Of course, that is only just for the time. Mr. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it over to mother, and I find that I can do pretty well with what I earn at typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet, and I can often do from fifteen to twenty sheets in a day."

"You have made your position very clear to me," said Holmes. "This is my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Kindly tell us now all about your connection with Mr. Hosmer Angel."

A flush stole over Miss Sutherland's face, and she picked nervously at the fringe of her jacket. "I met him first at the gasfitters' ball," she said. "They used to send father tickets when he was alive, and then afterwards they remembered us, and sent them to mother. Mr. Windibank did not wish us to go. He never did wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time I was set on going, and I would go; for what right had he to prevent? He said the folk were not fit for us to know, when all father's friends were to be there. And he said that I had nothing fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so much as taken out of the drawer. At last, when nothing else would do, he went off to France upon the business of the firm, but we went, mother and I, with Mr. Hardy, who used to be our foreman, and it was there I met Mr. Hosmer Angel."

"I suppose," said Holmes, "that when Mr. Windibank came back from France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball."

"Oh, well, he was very good about it. He laughed, I remember, and shrugged his shoulders, and said there was no use denying anything to a woman, for she would have her way."

"I see. Then at the gasfitters' ball you met, as I understand, a gentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel."

"Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he called next day to ask if we had got home all safe, and after that we met him--that is to say, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but after that father came back again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the house any more."

"No?"

"Well, you know father didn't like anything of the sort. He wouldn't have any visitors if he could help it, and he used to say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle. But then, as I used to say to mother, a woman wants her own circle to begin with, and I had not got mine yet."

"But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see you?"

"Well, father was going off to France again in a week, and Hosmer wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each other until he had gone. We could write in the meantime, and he used to write every day. I took the letters in in the morning, so there was no need for father to know."

"Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?"

"Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that we took. Hosmer--Mr. Angel--was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall Street--and--"

"What office?"

"That's the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don't know."

"Where did he live, then?"

"He slept on the premises."

"And you don't know his address?"

"No--except that it was Leadenhall Street."

"Where did you address your letters, then?"

"To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called for. He said that if they were sent to the office he would be chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady, so I offered to typewrite them, like he did his, but he wouldn't have that, for he said that when I wrote them they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten he always felt that the machine had come between us. That will just show you how fond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would think of."

"It was most suggestive," said Holmes. "It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?"

"He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me in the evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to be conspicuous. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice was gentle. He'd had the quinsy and swollen glands when he was young, he told me, and it had left him with a weak throat, and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech. He was always well dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes were weak, just as mine are, and he wore tinted glasses against the glare."

"Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, returned to France?"

"Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest and made me swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I would always be true to him. Mother said he was quite right to make me swear, and that it was a sign of his passion. Mother was all in his favour from the first and was even fonder of him than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about father; but they both said never to mind about father, but just to tell him afterwards, and mother said she would make it all right with him. I didn't quite like that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his leave, as he was only a few years older than me; but I didn't want to do anything on the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where the company has its French offices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the wedding."

"It missed him, then?"

"Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived."

"Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for the Friday. Was it to be in church?"

"Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour's, near King's Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were two of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a four-wheeler, which happened to be the only other cab in the street. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, and when the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no one there! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had become of him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That was last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything since then to throw any light upon what became of him."

"It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated," said Holmes.

"Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it."

"Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?"

"Yes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened."

"But you have no notion as to what it could have been?"

"None."

"One more question. How did your mother take the matter?"

"She was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again."

"And your father? Did you tell him?"

"Yes; and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my money, or if he had married me and got my money settled on him, there might be some reason, but Hosmer was very independent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me half-mad to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink at night." She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff and began to sob heavily into it.

"I shall glance into the case for you," said Holmes, rising, "and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life."

"Then you don't think I'll see him again?"

"I fear not."

"Then what has happened to him?"

"You will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate description of him and any letters of his which you can spare."

"I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle," said she. "Here is the slip and here are four letters from him."

"Thank you. And your address?"

"No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell."

"Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is your father's place of business?"

"He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers of Fenchurch Street."

"Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect your life."

"You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back."

For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. She laid her little bundle of papers upon the table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever she might be summoned.

Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips still pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his gaze directed upward to the ceiling. Then he took down from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a counsellor, and, having lit it, he leaned back in his chair, with the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from him, and a look of infinite languor in his face.

"Quite an interesting study, that maiden," he observed. "I found her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, in Andover in '77, and there was something of the sort at The Hague last year. Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which were new to me. But the maiden herself was most instructive."

"You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible to me," I remarked.

"Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. Now, what did you gather from that woman's appearance? Describe it."

"Well, she had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a feather of a brickish red. Her jacket was black, with black beads sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. Her dress was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a little purple plush at the neck and sleeves. Her gloves were greyish and were worn through at the right forefinger. Her boots I didn't observe. She had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a general air of being fairly well-to-do in a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way."

Sherlock Holmes clapped his hands softly together and chuckled.

" 'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and you have a quick eye for colour. Never trust to general impressions, my boy, but concentrate yourself upon details. My first glance is always at a woman's sleeve. In a man it is perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As you observe, this woman had plush upon her sleeves, which is a most useful material for showing traces. The double line a little above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type, leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at her face, and, observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of her nose, I ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed to surprise her."

"It surprised me."

"But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots which she was wearing were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and the other a plain one. One was buttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and fifth. Now, when you see that a young lady, otherwise neatly dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, it is no great deduction to say that she came away in a hurry."

"And what else?" I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by my friend's incisive reasoning.

"I noted, in passing, that she had written a note before leaving home but after being fully dressed. You observed that her right glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. She had written in a hurry and dipped her pen too deep. It must have been this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger. All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go back to business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the advertised description of Mr. Hosmer Angel?"

I held the little printed slip to the light.

"Missing," it said, "on the morning of the fourteenth, a gentleman named Hosmer Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height; strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair, a little bald in the centre, bushy, black side-whiskers and moustache; tinted glasses, slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen, in black frock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and grey Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over elastic-sided boots. Known to have been employed in an office in Leadenhall Street. Anybody bringing--"

"That will do," said Holmes. "As to the letters," he continued, glancing over them, "they are very commonplace. Absolutely no clue in them to Mr. Angel, save that he quotes Balzac once. There is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike you."

"They are typewritten," I remarked.

"Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the neat little 'Hosmer Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, you see, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague. The point about the signature is very suggestive--in fact, we may call it conclusive."

"Of what?"

"My dear fellow, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears upon the case?"

"I cannot say that I do unless it were that he wished to be able to deny his signature if an action for breach of promise were instituted."

"No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters, which should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the other is to the young lady's stepfather, Mr. Windibank, asking him whether he could meet us here at six o'clock to-morrow evening. It is just as well that we should do business with the male relatives. And now, Doctor, we can do nothing until the answers to those letters come, so we may put our little problem upon the shelf for the interim."

I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powers of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that he must have some solid grounds for the assured and easy demeanour with which he treated the singular mystery which he had been called upon to fathom. Once only had I known him to fail, in the case of the King of Bohemia and of the Irene Adler photograph; but when I looked back to the weird business of the Sign of Four, and the extraordinary circumstances connected with the Study in Scarlet, I felt that it would be a strange tangle indeed which he could not unravel.

I left him then, still puffing at his black clay pipe, with the conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would find that he held in his hands all the clues which would lead up to the identity of the disappearing bridegroom of Miss Mary Sutherland.

A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention at the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon six o'clock that I found myself free and was able to spring into a hansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be too late to assist at the denouement of the little mystery. I found Sherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with his long, thin form curled up in the recesses of his armchair. A formidable array of bottles and test-tubes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that he had spent his day in the chemical work which was so dear to him.

"Well, have you solved it?" I asked as I entered.

"Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta."

"No, no, the mystery!" I cried.

"Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said yesterday, some of the details are of interest. The only drawback is that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel."

"Who was he, then, and what was his object in deserting Miss Sutherland?"

The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet opened his lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the passage and a tap at the door.

"This is the girl's stepfather, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "He has written to me to say that he would be here at six. Come in!"

The man who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized fellow, some thirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a bland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating grey eyes. He shot a questioning glance at each of us, placed his shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a slight bow sidled down into the nearest chair.

"Good-evening, Mr. James Windibank," said Holmes. "I think that this typewritten letter is from you, in which you made an appointment with me for six o'clock?"

"Yes, sir. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite my own master, you know. I am sorry that Miss Sutherland has troubled you about this little matter, for I think it is far better not to wash linen of the sort in public. It was quite against my wishes that she came, but she is a very excitable, impulsive girl, as you may have noticed, and she is not easily controlled when she has made up her mind on a point. Of course, I did not mind you so much, as you are not connected with the official police, but it is not pleasant to have a family misfortune like this noised abroad. Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could you possibly find this Hosmer Angel?"

"On the contrary," said Holmes quietly; "I have every reason to believe that I will succeed in discovering Mr. Hosmer Angel."

Mr. Windibank gave a violent start and dropped his gloves. "I am delighted to hear it," he said.

"It is a curious thing," remarked Holmes, "that a typewriter has really quite as much individuality as a man's handwriting. Unless they are quite new, no two of them write exactly alike. Some letters get more worn than others, and some wear only on one side. Now, you remark in this note of yours, Mr. Windibank, that in every case there is some little slurring over of the 'e,' and a slight defect in the tail of the 'r.' There are fourteen other characteristics, but those are the more obvious."

"We do all our correspondence with this machine at the office, and no doubt it is a little worn," our visitor answered, glancing keenly at Holmes with his bright little eyes.

"And now I will show you what is really a very interesting study, Mr. Windibank," Holmes continued. "I think of writing another little monograph some of these days on the typewriter and its relation to crime. It is a subject to which I have devoted some little attention. I have here four letters which purport to come from the missing man. They are all typewritten. In each case, not only are the 'e's' slurred and the 'r's' tailless, but you will observe, if you care to use my magnifying lens, that the fourteen other characteristics to which I have alluded are there as well."

Mr. Windibank sprang out of his chair and picked up his hat. "I cannot waste time over this sort of fantastic talk, Mr. Holmes," he said. "If you can catch the man, catch him, and let me know when you have done it."

"Certainly," said Holmes, stepping over and turning the key in the door. "I let you know, then, that I have caught him!"

"What! where?" shouted Mr. Windibank, turning white to his lips and glancing about him like a rat in a trap.

"Oh, it won't do--really it won't," said Holmes suavely. "There is no possible getting out of it, Mr. Windibank. It is quite too transparent, and it was a very bad compliment when you said that it was impossible for me to solve so simple a question. That's right! Sit down and let us talk it over."

Our visitor collapsed into a chair, with a ghastly face and a glitter of moisture on his brow. "It--it's not actionable," he stammered.

"I am very much afraid that it is not. But between ourselves, Windibank, it was as cruel and selfish and heartless a trick in a petty way as ever came before me. Now, let me just run over the course of events, and you will contradict me if I go wrong."

The man sat huddled up in his chair, with his head sunk upon his breast, like one who is utterly crushed. Holmes stuck his feet up on the corner of the mantelpiece and, leaning back with his hands in his pockets, began talking, rather to himself, as it seemed, than to us.

"The man married a woman very much older than himself for her money," said he, "and he enjoyed the use of the money of the daughter as long as she lived with them. It was a considerable sum, for people in their position, and the loss of it would have made a serious difference. It was worth an effort to preserve it. The daughter was of a good, amiable disposition, but affectionate and warm-hearted in her ways, so that it was evident that with her fair personal advantages, and her little income, she would not be allowed to remain single long. Now her marriage would mean, of course, the loss of a hundred a year, so what does her stepfather do to prevent it? He takes the obvious course of keeping her at home and forbidding her to seek the company of people of her own age. But soon he found that that would not answer forever. She became restive, insisted upon her rights, and finally announced her positive intention of going to a certain ball. What does her clever stepfather do then? He conceives an idea more creditable to his head than to his heart. With the connivance and assistance of his wife he disguised himself, covered those keen eyes with tinted glasses, masked the face with a moustache and a pair of bushy whiskers, sunk that clear voice into an insinuating whisper, and doubly secure on account of the girl's short sight, he appears as Mr. Hosmer Angel, and keeps off other lovers by making love himself."

"It was only a joke at first," groaned our visitor. "We never thought that she would have been so carried away."

"Very likely not. However that may be, the young lady was very decidedly carried away, and, having quite made up her mind that her stepfather was in France, the suspicion of treachery never for an instant entered her mind. She was flattered by the gentleman's attentions, and the effect was increased by the loudly expressed admiration of her mother. Then Mr. Angel began to call, for it was obvious that the matter should be pushed as far as it would go if a real effect were to be produced. There were meetings, and an engagement, which would finally secure the girl's affections from turning towards anyone else. But the deception could not be kept up forever. These pretended journeys to France were rather cumbrous. The thing to do was clearly to bring the business to an end in such a dramatic manner that it would leave a permanent impression upon the young lady's mind and prevent her from looking upon any other suitor for some time to come. Hence those vows of fidelity exacted upon a Testament, and hence also the allusions to a possibility of something happening on the very morning of the wedding. James Windibank wished Miss Sutherland to be so bound to Hosmer Angel, and so uncertain as to his fate, that for ten years to come, at any rate, she would not listen to another man. As far as the church door he brought her, and then, as he could go no farther, he conveniently vanished away by the old trick of stepping in at one door of a four-wheeler and out at the other. I think that was the chain of events, Mr. Windibank!"

Our visitor had recovered something of his assurance while Holmes had been talking, and he rose from his chair now with a cold sneer upon his pale face.

"It may be so, or it may not, Mr. Holmes," said he, "but if you are so very sharp you ought to be sharp enough to know that it is you who are breaking the law now, and not me. I have done nothing actionable from the first, but as long as you keep that door locked you lay yourself open to an action for assault and illegal constraint."

"The law cannot, as you say, touch you," said Holmes, unlocking and throwing open the door, "yet there never was a man who deserved punishment more. If the young lady has a brother or a friend, he ought to lay a whip across your shoulders. By Jove!" he continued, flushing up at the sight of the bitter sneer upon the man's face, "it is not part of my duties to my client, but here's a hunting crop handy, and I think I shall just treat myself to--" He took two swift steps to the whip, but before he could grasp it there was a wild clatter of steps upon the stairs, the heavy hall door banged, and from the window we could see Mr. James Windibank running at the top of his speed down the road.

"There's a cold-blooded scoundrel!" said Holmes, laughing, as he threw himself down into his chair once more. "That fellow will rise from crime to crime until he does something very bad, and ends on a gallows. The case has, in some respects, been not entirely devoid of interest."

"I cannot now entirely see all the steps of your reasoning," I remarked.

"Well, of course it was obvious from the first that this Mr. Hosmer Angel must have some strong object for his curious conduct, and it was equally clear that the only man who really profited by the incident, as far as we could see, was the stepfather. Then the fact that the two men were never together, but that the one always appeared when the other was away, was suggestive. So were the tinted spectacles and the curious voice, which both hinted at a disguise, as did the bushy whiskers. My suspicions were all confirmed by his peculiar action in typewriting his signature, which, of course, inferred that his handwriting was so familiar to her that she would recognise even the smallest sample of it. You see all these isolated facts, together with many minor ones, all pointed in the same direction."

"And how did you verify them?"

"Having once spotted my man, it was easy to get corroboration. I knew the firm for which this man worked. Having taken the printed description. I eliminated everything from it which could be the result of a disguise--the whiskers, the glasses, the voice, and I sent it to the firm, with a request that they would inform me whether it answered to the description of any of their travellers. I had already noticed the peculiarities of the typewriter, and I wrote to the man himself at his business address asking him if he would come here. As I expected, his reply was typewritten and revealed the same trivial but characteristic defects. The same post brought me a letter from Westhouse & Marbank, of Fenchurch Street, to say that the description tallied in every respect with that of their employe, James Windibank. Voila tout!"

"And Miss Sutherland?"

"If I tell her she will not believe me. You may remember the old Persian saying, 'There is danger for him who taketh the tiger cub, and danger also for whoso snatches a delusion from a woman.' There is as much sense in Hafiz as in Horace, and as much knowledge of the world."

ADVENTURE IV. THE BOSCOMBE VALLEY MYSTERY


We were seated at breakfast one morning, my wife and I, when the maid brought in a telegram. It was from Sherlock Holmes and ran in this way:

"Have you a couple of days to spare? Have just been wired for from the west of England in connection with Boscombe Valley tragedy. Shall be glad if you will come with me. Air and scenery perfect. Leave Paddington by the 11:15."

"What do you say, dear?" said my wife, looking across at me. "Will you go?"

"I really don't know what to say. I have a fairly long list at present."

"Oh, Anstruther would do your work for you. You have been looking a little pale lately. I think that the change would do you good, and you are always so interested in Mr. Sherlock Holmes' cases."

"I should be ungrateful if I were not, seeing what I gained through one of them," I answered. "But if I am to go, I must pack at once, for I have only half an hour."

My experience of camp life in Afghanistan had at least had the effect of making me a prompt and ready traveller. My wants were few and simple, so that in less than the time stated I was in a cab with my valise, rattling away to Paddington Station. Sherlock Holmes was pacing up and down the platform, his tall, gaunt figure made even gaunter and taller by his long grey travelling-cloak and close-fitting cloth cap.

"It is really very good of you to come, Watson," said he. "It makes a considerable difference to me, having someone with me on whom I can thoroughly rely. Local aid is always either worthless or else biassed. If you will keep the two corner seats I shall get the tickets."

We had the carriage to ourselves save for an immense litter of papers which Holmes had brought with him. Among these he rummaged and read, with intervals of note-taking and of meditation, until we were past Reading. Then he suddenly rolled them all into a gigantic ball and tossed them up onto the rack.

"Have you heard anything of the case?" he asked.

"Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days."

"The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just been looking through all the recent papers in order to master the particulars. It seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so extremely difficult."

"That sounds a little paradoxical."

"But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. The more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring it home. In this case, however, they have established a very serious case against the son of the murdered man."

"It is a murder, then?"

"Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted until I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will explain the state of things to you, as far as I have been able to understand it, in a very few words.

"Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner, who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago to the old country. One of the farms which he held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to settle down they should do so as near each other as possible. Turner was apparently the richer man, so McCarthy became his tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of perfect equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same age, but neither of them had wives living. They appear to have avoided the society of the neighbouring English families and to have led retired lives, though both the McCarthys were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of the neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants--a man and a girl. Turner had a considerable household, some half-dozen at the least. That is as much as I have been able to gather about the families. Now for the facts.

"On June 3rd, that is, on Monday last, McCarthy left his house at Hatherley about three in the afternoon and walked down to the Boscombe Pool, which is a small lake formed by the spreading out of the stream which runs down the Boscombe Valley. He had been out with his serving-man in the morning at Ross, and he had told the man that he must hurry, as he had an appointment of importance to keep at three. From that appointment he never came back alive.

"From Hatherley Farmhouse to the Boscombe Pool is a quarter of a mile, and two people saw him as he passed over this ground. One was an old woman, whose name is not mentioned, and the other was William Crowder, a game-keeper in the employ of Mr. Turner. Both these witnesses depose that Mr. McCarthy was walking alone. The game-keeper adds that within a few minutes of his seeing Mr. McCarthy pass he had seen his son, Mr. James McCarthy, going the same way with a gun under his arm. To the best of his belief, the father was actually in sight at the time, and the son was following him. He thought no more of the matter until he heard in the evening of the tragedy that had occurred.

"The two McCarthys were seen after the time when William Crowder, the game-keeper, lost sight of them. The Boscombe Pool is thickly wooded round, with just a fringe of grass and of reeds round the edge. A girl of fourteen, Patience Moran, who is the daughter of the lodge-keeper of the Boscombe Valley estate, was in one of the woods picking flowers. She states that while she was there she saw, at the border of the wood and close by the lake, Mr. McCarthy and his son, and that they appeared to be having a violent quarrel. She heard Mr. McCarthy the elder using very strong language to his son, and she saw the latter raise up his hand as if to strike his father. She was so frightened by their violence that she ran away and told her mother when she reached home that she had left the two McCarthys quarrelling near Boscombe Pool, and that she was afraid that they were going to fight. She had hardly said the words when young Mr. McCarthy came running up to the lodge to say that he had found his father dead in the wood, and to ask for the help of the lodge-keeper. He was much excited, without either his gun or his hat, and his right hand and sleeve were observed to be stained with fresh blood. On following him they found the dead body stretched out upon the grass beside the pool. The head had been beaten in by repeated blows of some heavy and blunt weapon. The injuries were such as might very well have been inflicted by the butt-end of his son's gun, which was found lying on the grass within a few paces of the body. Under these circumstances the young man was instantly arrested, and a verdict of 'wilful murder' having been returned at the inquest on Tuesday, he was on Wednesday brought before the magistrates at Ross, who have referred the case to the next Assizes. Those are the main facts of the case as they came out before the coroner and the police-court."

"I could hardly imagine a more damning case," I remarked. "If ever circumstantial evidence pointed to a criminal it does so here."

"Circumstantial evidence is a very tricky thing," answered Holmes thoughtfully. "It may seem to point very straight to one thing, but if you shift your own point of view a little, you may find it pointing in an equally uncompromising manner to something entirely different. It must be confessed, however, that the case looks exceedingly grave against the young man, and it is very possible that he is indeed the culprit. There are several people in the neighbourhood, however, and among them Miss Turner, the daughter of the neighbouring landowner, who believe in his innocence, and who have retained Lestrade, whom you may recollect in connection with the Study in Scarlet, to work out the case in his interest. Lestrade, being rather puzzled, has referred the case to me, and hence it is that two middle-aged gentlemen are flying westward at fifty miles an hour instead of quietly digesting their breakfasts at home."

"I am afraid," said I, "that the facts are so obvious that you will find little credit to be gained out of this case."

"There is nothing more deceptive than an obvious fact," he answered, laughing. "Besides, we may chance to hit upon some other obvious facts which may have been by no means obvious to Mr. Lestrade. You know me too well to think that I am boasting when I say that I shall either confirm or destroy his theory by means which he is quite incapable of employing, or even of understanding. To take the first example to hand, I very clearly perceive that in your bedroom the window is upon the right-hand side, and yet I question whether Mr. Lestrade would have noted even so self-evident a thing as that."

"How on earth--"

"My dear fellow, I know you well. I know the military neatness which characterises you. You shave every morning, and in this season you shave by the sunlight; but since your shaving is less and less complete as we get farther back on the left side, until it becomes positively slovenly as we get round the angle of the jaw, it is surely very clear that that side is less illuminated than the other. I could not imagine a man of your habits looking at himself in an equal light and being satisfied with such a result. I only quote this as a trivial example of observation and inference. Therein lies my metier, and it is just possible that it may be of some service in the investigation which lies before us. There are one or two minor points which were brought out in the inquest, and which are worth considering."

"What are they?"

"It appears that his arrest did not take place at once, but after the return to Hatherley Farm. On the inspector of constabulary informing him that he was a prisoner, he remarked that he was not surprised to hear it, and that it was no more than his deserts. This observation of his had the natural effect of removing any traces of doubt which might have remained in the minds of the coroner's jury."

"It was a confession," I ejaculated.

"No, for it was followed by a protestation of innocence."

"Coming on the top of such a damning series of events, it was at least a most suspicious remark."

"On the contrary," said Holmes, "it is the brightest rift which I can at present see in the clouds. However innocent he might be, he could not be such an absolute imbecile as not to see that the circumstances were very black against him. Had he appeared surprised at his own arrest, or feigned indignation at it, I should have looked upon it as highly suspicious, because such surprise or anger would not be natural under the circumstances, and yet might appear to be the best policy to a scheming man. His frank acceptance of the situation marks him as either an innocent man, or else as a man of considerable self-restraint and firmness. As to his remark about his deserts, it was also not unnatural if you consider that he stood beside the dead body of his father, and that there is no doubt that he had that very day so far forgotten his filial duty as to bandy words with him, and even, according to the little girl whose evidence is so important, to raise his hand as if to strike him. The self-reproach and contrition which are displayed in his remark appear to me to be the signs of a healthy mind rather than of a guilty one."

I shook my head. "Many men have been hanged on far slighter evidence," I remarked.

"So they have. And many men have been wrongfully hanged."

"What is the young man's own account of the matter?"

"It is, I am afraid, not very encouraging to his supporters, though there are one or two points in it which are suggestive. You will find it here, and may read it for yourself."

He picked out from his bundle a copy of the local Herefordshire paper, and having turned down the sheet he pointed out the paragraph in which the unfortunate young man had given his own statement of what had occurred. I settled myself down in the corner of the carriage and read it very carefully. It ran in this way:

"Mr. James McCarthy, the only son of the deceased, was then called and gave evidence as follows: 'I had been away from home for three days at Bristol, and had only just returned upon the morning of last Monday, the 3rd. My father was absent from home at the time of my arrival, and I was informed by the maid that he had driven over to Ross with John Cobb, the groom. Shortly after my return I heard the wheels of his trap in the yard, and, looking out of my window, I saw him get out and walk rapidly out of the yard, though I was not aware in which direction he was going. I then took my gun and strolled out in the direction of the Boscombe Pool, with the intention of visiting the rabbit warren which is upon the other side. On my way I saw William Crowder, the game-keeper, as he had stated in his evidence; but he is mistaken in thinking that I was following my father. I had no idea that he was in front of me. When about a hundred yards from the pool I heard a cry of "Cooee!" which was a usual signal between my father and myself. I then hurried forward, and found him standing by the pool. He appeared to be much surprised at seeing me and asked me rather roughly what I was doing there. A conversation ensued which led to high words and almost to blows, for my father was a man of a very violent temper. Seeing that his passion was becoming ungovernable, I left him and returned towards Hatherley Farm. I had not gone more than 150 yards, however, when I heard a hideous outcry behind me, which caused me to run back again. I found my father expiring upon the ground, with his head terribly injured. I dropped my gun and held him in my arms, but he almost instantly expired. I knelt beside him for some minutes, and then made my way to Mr. Turner's lodge-keeper, his house being the nearest, to ask for assistance. I saw no one near my father when I returned, and I have no idea how he came by his injuries. He was not a popular man, being somewhat cold and forbidding in his manners, but he had, as far as I know, no active enemies. I know nothing further of the matter.'

"The Coroner: Did your father make any statement to you before he died?

"Witness: He mumbled a few words, but I could only catch some allusion to a rat.

"The Coroner: What did you understand by that?

"Witness: It conveyed no meaning to me. I thought that he was delirious.

"The Coroner: What was the point upon which you and your father had this final quarrel?

"Witness: I should prefer not to answer.

"The Coroner: I am afraid that I must press it.

"Witness: It is really impossible for me to tell you. I can assure you that it has nothing to do with the sad tragedy which followed.

"The Coroner: That is for the court to decide. I need not point out to you that your refusal to answer will prejudice your case considerably in any future proceedings which may arise.

"Witness: I must still refuse.

"The Coroner: I understand that the cry of 'Cooee' was a common signal between you and your father?

"Witness: It was.

"The Coroner: How was it, then, that he uttered it before he saw you, and before he even knew that you had returned from Bristol?

"Witness (with considerable confusion): I do not know.

"A Juryman: Did you see nothing which aroused your suspicions when you returned on hearing the cry and found your father fatally injured?

"Witness: Nothing definite.

"The Coroner: What do you mean?

"Witness: I was so disturbed and excited as I rushed out into the open, that I could think of nothing except of my father. Yet I have a vague impression that as I ran forward something lay upon the ground to the left of me. It seemed to me to be something grey in colour, a coat of some sort, or a plaid perhaps. When I rose from my father I looked round for it, but it was gone.

" 'Do you mean that it disappeared before you went for help?'

" 'Yes, it was gone.'

" 'You cannot say what it was?'

" 'No, I had a feeling something was there.'

" 'How far from the body?'

" 'A dozen yards or so.'

" 'And how far from the edge of the wood?'

" 'About the same.'

" 'Then if it was removed it was while you were within a dozen yards of it?'

" 'Yes, but with my back towards it.'

"This concluded the examination of the witness."

"I see," said I as I glanced down the column, "that the coroner in his concluding remarks was rather severe upon young McCarthy. He calls attention, and with reason, to the discrepancy about his father having signalled to him before seeing him, also to his refusal to give details of his conversation with his father, and his singular account of his father's dying words. They are all, as he remarks, very much against the son."

Holmes laughed softly to himself and stretched himself out upon the cushioned seat. "Both you and the coroner have been at some pains," said he, "to single out the very strongest points in the young man's favour. Don't you see that you alternately give him credit for having too much imagination and too little? Too little, if he could not invent a cause of quarrel which would give him the sympathy of the jury; too much, if he evolved from his own inner consciousness anything so outre as a dying reference to a rat, and the incident of the vanishing cloth. No, sir, I shall approach this case from the point of view that what this young man says is true, and we shall see whither that hypothesis will lead us. And now here is my pocket Petrarch, and not another word shall I say of this case until we are on the scene of action. We lunch at Swindon, and I see that we shall be there in twenty minutes."

It was nearly four o'clock when we at last, after passing through the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn, found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A lean, ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for us upon the platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and leather-leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade, of Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a room had already been engaged for us.

"I have ordered a carriage," said Lestrade as we sat over a cup of tea. "I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be happy until you had been on the scene of the crime."

"It was very nice and complimentary of you," Holmes answered. "It is entirely a question of barometric pressure."

Lestrade looked startled. "I do not quite follow," he said.

"How is the glass? Twenty-nine, I see. No wind, and not a cloud in the sky. I have a caseful of cigarettes here which need smoking, and the sofa is very much superior to the usual country hotel abomination. I do not think that it is probable that I shall use the carriage to-night."

Lestrade laughed indulgently. "You have, no doubt, already formed your conclusions from the newspapers," he said. "The case is as plain as a pikestaff, and the more one goes into it the plainer it becomes. Still, of course, one can't refuse a lady, and such a very positive one, too. She has heard of you, and would have your opinion, though I repeatedly told her that there was nothing which you could do which I had not already done. Why, bless my soul! here is her carriage at the door."

He had hardly spoken before there rushed into the room one of the most lovely young women that I have ever seen in my life. Her violet eyes shining, her lips parted, a pink flush upon her cheeks, all thought of her natural reserve lost in her overpowering excitement and concern.

"Oh, Mr. Sherlock Holmes!" she cried, glancing from one to the other of us, and finally, with a woman's quick intuition, fastening upon my companion, "I am so glad that you have come. I have driven down to tell you so. I know that James didn't do it. I know it, and I want you to start upon your work knowing it, too. Never let yourself doubt upon that point. We have known each other since we were little children, and I know his faults as no one else does; but he is too tender-hearted to hurt a fly. Such a charge is absurd to anyone who really knows him."

"I hope we may clear him, Miss Turner," said Sherlock Holmes. "You may rely upon my doing all that I can."

"But you have read the evidence. You have formed some conclusion? Do you not see some loophole, some flaw? Do you not yourself think that he is innocent?"

"I think that it is very probable."

"There, now!" she cried, throwing back her head and looking defiantly at Lestrade. "You hear! He gives me hopes."

Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am afraid that my colleague has been a little quick in forming his conclusions," he said.

"But he is right. Oh! I know that he is right. James never did it. And about his quarrel with his father, I am sure that the reason why he would not speak about it to the coroner was because I was concerned in it."

"In what way?" asked Holmes.

"It is no time for me to hide anything. James and his father had many disagreements about me. Mr. McCarthy was very anxious that there should be a marriage between us. James and I have always loved each other as brother and sister; but of course he is young and has seen very little of life yet, and--and--well, he naturally did not wish to do anything like that yet. So there were quarrels, and this, I am sure, was one of them."

"And your father?" asked Holmes. "Was he in favour of such a union?"

"No, he was averse to it also. No one but Mr. McCarthy was in favour of it." A quick blush passed over her fresh young face as Holmes shot one of his keen, questioning glances at her.

"Thank you for this information," said he. "May I see your father if I call to-morrow?"

"I am afraid the doctor won't allow it."

"The doctor?"

"Yes, have you not heard? Poor father has never been strong for years back, but this has broken him down completely. He has taken to his bed, and Dr. Willows says that he is a wreck and that his nervous system is shattered. Mr. McCarthy was the only man alive who had known dad in the old days in Victoria."

"Ha! In Victoria! That is important."

"Yes, at the mines."

"Quite so; at the gold-mines, where, as I understand, Mr. Turner made his money."

"Yes, certainly."

"Thank you, Miss Turner. You have been of material assistance to me."

"You will tell me if you have any news to-morrow. No doubt you will go to the prison to see James. Oh, if you do, Mr. Holmes, do tell him that I know him to be innocent."

"I will, Miss Turner."

"I must go home now, for dad is very ill, and he misses me so if I leave him. Good-bye, and God help you in your undertaking." She hurried from the room as impulsively as she had entered, and we heard the wheels of her carriage rattle off down the street.

"I am ashamed of you, Holmes," said Lestrade with dignity after a few minutes' silence. "Why should you raise up hopes which you are bound to disappoint? I am not over-tender of heart, but I call it cruel."

"I think that I see my way to clearing James McCarthy," said Holmes. "Have you an order to see him in prison?"

"Yes, but only for you and me."

"Then I shall reconsider my resolution about going out. We have still time to take a train to Hereford and see him to-night?"

"Ample."

"Then let us do so. Watson, I fear that you will find it very slow, but I shall only be away a couple of hours."

I walked down to the station with them, and then wandered through the streets of the little town, finally returning to the hotel, where I lay upon the sofa and tried to interest myself in a yellow-backed novel. The puny plot of the story was so thin, however, when compared to the deep mystery through which we were groping, and I found my attention wander so continually from the action to the fact, that I at last flung it across the room and gave myself up entirely to a consideration of the events of the day. Supposing that this unhappy young man's story were absolutely true, then what hellish thing, what absolutely unforeseen and extraordinary calamity could have occurred between the time when he parted from his father, and the moment when, drawn back by his screams, he rushed into the glade? It was something terrible and deadly. What could it be? Might not the nature of the injuries reveal something to my medical instincts? I rang the bell and called for the weekly county paper, which contained a verbatim account of the inquest. In the surgeon's deposition it was stated that the posterior third of the left parietal bone and the left half of the occipital bone had been shattered by a heavy blow from a blunt weapon. I marked the spot upon my own head. Clearly such a blow must have been struck from behind. That was to some extent in favour of the accused, as when seen quarrelling he was face to face with his father. Still, it did not go for very much, for the older man might have turned his back before the blow fell. Still, it might be worth while to call Holmes' attention to it. Then there was the peculiar dying reference to a rat. What could that mean? It could not be delirium. A man dying from a sudden blow does not commonly become delirious. No, it was more likely to be an attempt to explain how he met his fate. But what could it indicate? I cudgelled my brains to find some possible explanation. And then the incident of the grey cloth seen by young McCarthy. If that were true the murderer must have dropped some part of his dress, presumably his overcoat, in his flight, and must have had the hardihood to return and to carry it away at the instant when the son was kneeling with his back turned not a dozen paces off. What a tissue of mysteries and improbabilities the whole thing was! I did not wonder at Lestrade's opinion, and yet I had so much faith in Sherlock Holmes' insight that I could not lose hope as long as every fresh fact seemed to strengthen his conviction of young McCarthy's innocence.

It was late before Sherlock Holmes returned. He came back alone, for Lestrade was staying in lodgings in the town.

"The glass still keeps very high," he remarked as he sat down. "It is of importance that it should not rain before we are able to go over the ground. On the other hand, a man should be at his very best and keenest for such nice work as that, and I did not wish to do it when fagged by a long journey. I have seen young McCarthy."

"And what did you learn from him?"

"Nothing."

"Could he throw no light?"

"None at all. I was inclined to think at one time that he knew who had done it and was screening him or her, but I am convinced now that he is as puzzled as everyone else. He is not a very quick-witted youth, though comely to look at and, I should think, sound at heart."

"I cannot admire his taste," I remarked, "if it is indeed a fact that he was averse to a marriage with so charming a young lady as this Miss Turner."

"Ah, thereby hangs a rather painful tale. This fellow is madly, insanely, in love with her, but some two years ago, when he was only a lad, and before he really knew her, for she had been away five years at a boarding-school, what does the idiot do but get into the clutches of a barmaid in Bristol and marry her at a registry office? No one knows a word of the matter, but you can imagine how maddening it must be to him to be upbraided for not doing what he would give his very eyes to do, but what he knows to be absolutely impossible. It was sheer frenzy of this sort which made him throw his hands up into the air when his father, at their last interview, was goading him on to propose to Miss Turner. On the other hand, he had no means of supporting himself, and his father, who was by all accounts a very hard man, would have thrown him over utterly had he known the truth. It was with his barmaid wife that he had spent the last three days in Bristol, and his father did not know where he was. Mark that point. It is of importance. Good has come out of evil, however, for the barmaid, finding from the papers that he is in serious trouble and likely to be hanged, has thrown him over utterly and has written to him to say that she has a husband already in the Bermuda Dockyard, so that there is really no tie between them. I think that that bit of news has consoled young McCarthy for all that he has suffered."

"But if he is innocent, who has done it?"

"Ah! who? I would call your attention very particularly to two points. One is that the murdered man had an appointment with someone at the pool, and that the someone could not have been his son, for his son was away, and he did not know when he would return. The second is that the murdered man was heard to cry 'Cooee!' before he knew that his son had returned. Those are the crucial points upon which the case depends. And now let us talk about George Meredith, if you please, and we shall leave all minor matters until to-morrow."

There was no rain, as Holmes had foretold, and the morning broke bright and cloudless. At nine o'clock Lestrade called for us with the carriage, and we set off for Hatherley Farm and the Boscombe Pool.

"There is serious news this morning," Lestrade observed. "It is said that Mr. Turner, of the Hall, is so ill that his life is despaired of."

"An elderly man, I presume?" said Holmes.

"About sixty; but his constitution has been shattered by his life abroad, and he has been in failing health for some time. This business has had a very bad effect upon him. He was an old friend of McCarthy's, and, I may add, a great benefactor to him, for I have learned that he gave him Hatherley Farm rent free."

"Indeed! That is interesting," said Holmes.

"Oh, yes! In a hundred other ways he has helped him. Everybody about here speaks of his kindness to him."

"Really! Does it not strike you as a little singular that this McCarthy, who appears to have had little of his own, and to have been under such obligations to Turner, should still talk of marrying his son to Turner's daughter, who is, presumably, heiress to the estate, and that in such a very cocksure manner, as if it were merely a case of a proposal and all else would follow? It is the more strange, since we know that Turner himself was averse to the idea. The daughter told us as much. Do you not deduce something from that?"

"We have got to the deductions and the inferences," said Lestrade, winking at me. "I find it hard enough to tackle facts, Holmes, without flying away after theories and fancies."

"You are right," said Holmes demurely; "you do find it very hard to tackle the facts."

"Anyhow, I have grasped one fact which you seem to find it difficult to get hold of," replied Lestrade with some warmth.

"And that is--"

"That McCarthy senior met his death from McCarthy junior and that all theories to the contrary are the merest moonshine."

"Well, moonshine is a brighter thing than fog," said Holmes, laughing. "But I am very much mistaken if this is not Hatherley Farm upon the left."

"Yes, that is it." It was a widespread, comfortable-looking building, two-storied, slate-roofed, with great yellow blotches of lichen upon the grey walls. The drawn blinds and the smokeless chimneys, however, gave it a stricken look, as though the weight of this horror still lay heavy upon it. We called at the door, when the maid, at Holmes' request, showed us the boots which her master wore at the time of his death, and also a pair of the son's, though not the pair which he had then had. Having measured these very carefully from seven or eight different points, Holmes desired to be led to the court-yard, from which we all followed the winding track which led to Boscombe Pool.

Sherlock Holmes was transformed when he was hot upon such a scent as this. Men who had only known the quiet thinker and logician of Baker Street would have failed to recognise him. His face flushed and darkened. His brows were drawn into two hard black lines, while his eyes shone out from beneath them with a steely glitter. His face was bent downward, his shoulders bowed, his lips compressed, and the veins stood out like whipcord in his long, sinewy neck. His nostrils seemed to dilate with a purely animal lust for the chase, and his mind was so absolutely concentrated upon the matter before him that a question or remark fell unheeded upon his ears, or, at the most, only provoked a quick, impatient snarl in reply. Swiftly and silently he made his way along the track which ran through the meadows, and so by way of the woods to the Boscombe Pool. It was damp, marshy ground, as is all that district, and there were marks of many feet, both upon the path and amid the short grass which bounded it on either side. Sometimes Holmes would hurry on, sometimes stop dead, and once he made quite a little detour into the meadow. Lestrade and I walked behind him, the detective indifferent and contemptuous, while I watched my friend with the interest which sprang from the conviction that every one of his actions was directed towards a definite end.

The Boscombe Pool, which is a little reed-girt sheet of water some fifty yards across, is situated at the boundary between the Hatherley Farm and the private park of the wealthy Mr. Turner. Above the woods which lined it upon the farther side we could see the red, jutting pinnacles which marked the site of the rich landowner's dwelling. On the Hatherley side of the pool the woods grew very thick, and there was a narrow belt of sodden grass twenty paces across between the edge of the trees and the reeds which lined the lake. Lestrade showed us the exact spot at which the body had been found, and, indeed, so moist was the ground, that I could plainly see the traces which had been left by the fall of the stricken man. To Holmes, as I could see by his eager face and peering eyes, very many other things were to be read upon the trampled grass. He ran round, like a dog who is picking up a scent, and then turned upon my companion.

"What did you go into the pool for?" he asked.

"I fished about with a rake. I thought there might be some weapon or other trace. But how on earth--"

"Oh, tut, tut! I have no time! That left foot of yours with its inward twist is all over the place. A mole could trace it, and there it vanishes among the reeds. Oh, how simple it would all have been had I been here before they came like a herd of buffalo and wallowed all over it. Here is where the party with the lodge-keeper came, and they have covered all tracks for six or eight feet round the body. But here are three separate tracks of the same feet." He drew out a lens and lay down upon his waterproof to have a better view, talking all the time rather to himself than to us. "These are young McCarthy's feet. Twice he was walking, and once he ran swiftly, so that the soles are deeply marked and the heels hardly visible. That bears out his story. He ran when he saw his father on the ground. Then here are the father's feet as he paced up and down. What is this, then? It is the butt-end of the gun as the son stood listening. And this? Ha, ha! What have we here? Tiptoes! tiptoes! Square, too, quite unusual boots! They come, they go, they come again--of course that was for the cloak. Now where did they come from?" He ran up and down, sometimes losing, sometimes finding the track until we were well within the edge of the wood and under the shadow of a great beech, the largest tree in the neighbourhood. Holmes traced his way to the farther side of this and lay down once more upon his face with a little cry of satisfaction. For a long time he remained there, turning over the leaves and dried sticks, gathering up what seemed to me to be dust into an envelope and examining with his lens not only the ground but even the bark of the tree as far as he could reach. A jagged stone was lying among the moss, and this also he carefully examined and retained. Then he followed a pathway through the wood until he came to the highroad, where all traces were lost.

"It has been a case of considerable interest," he remarked, returning to his natural manner. "I fancy that this grey house on the right must be the lodge. I think that I will go in and have a word with Moran, and perhaps write a little note. Having done that, we may drive back to our luncheon. You may walk to the cab, and I shall be with you presently."

It was about ten minutes before we regained our cab and drove back into Ross, Holmes still carrying with him the stone which he had picked up in the wood.

"This may interest you, Lestrade," he remarked, holding it out. "The murder was done with it."

"I see no marks."

"There are none."

"How do you know, then?"

"The grass was growing under it. It had only lain there a few days. There was no sign of a place whence it had been taken. It corresponds with the injuries. There is no sign of any other weapon."

"And the murderer?"

"Is a tall man, left-handed, limps with the right leg, wears thick-soled shooting-boots and a grey cloak, smokes Indian cigars, uses a cigar-holder, and carries a blunt pen-knife in his pocket. There are several other indications, but these may be enough to aid us in our search."

Lestrade laughed. "I am afraid that I am still a sceptic," he said. "Theories are all very well, but we have to deal with a hard-headed British jury."

"Nous verrons," answered Holmes calmly. "You work your own method, and I shall work mine. I shall be busy this afternoon, and shall probably return to London by the evening train."

"And leave your case unfinished?"

"No, finished."

"But the mystery?"

"It is solved."

"Who was the criminal, then?"

"The gentleman I describe."

"But who is he?"

"Surely it would not be difficult to find out. This is not such a populous neighbourhood."

Lestrade shrugged his shoulders. "I am a practical man," he said, "and I really cannot undertake to go about the country looking for a left-handed gentleman with a game leg. I should become the laughing-stock of Scotland Yard."

"All right," said Holmes quietly. "I have given you the chance. Here are your lodgings. Good-bye. I shall drop you a line before I leave."

Having left Lestrade at his rooms, we drove to our hotel, where we found lunch upon the table. Holmes was silent and buried in thought with a pained expression upon his face, as one who finds himself in a perplexing position.

"Look here, Watson," he said when the cloth was cleared "just sit down in this chair and let me preach to you for a little. I don't know quite what to do, and I should value your advice. Light a cigar and let me expound."

"Pray do so."

"Well, now, in considering this case there are two points about young McCarthy's narrative which struck us both instantly, although they impressed me in his favour and you against him. One was the fact that his father should, according to his account, cry 'Cooee!' before seeing him. The other was his singular dying reference to a rat. He mumbled several words, you understand, but that was all that caught the son's ear. Now from this double point our research must commence, and we will begin it by presuming that what the lad says is absolutely true."

"What of this 'Cooee!' then?"

"Well, obviously it could not have been meant for the son. The son, as far as he knew, was in Bristol. It was mere chance that he was within earshot. The 'Cooee!' was meant to attract the attention of whoever it was that he had the appointment with. But 'Cooee' is a distinctly Australian cry, and one which is used between Australians. There is a strong presumption that the person whom McCarthy expected to meet him at Boscombe Pool was someone who had been in Australia."

"What of the rat, then?"

Sherlock Holmes took a folded paper from his pocket and flattened it out on the table. "This is a map of the Colony of Victoria," he said. "I wired to Bristol for it last night." He put his hand over part of the map. "What do you read?"

"ARAT," I read.

"And now?" He raised his hand.

"BALLARAT."

"Quite so. That was the word the man uttered, and of which his son only caught the last two syllables. He was trying to utter the name of his murderer. So and so, of Ballarat."

"It is wonderful!" I exclaimed.

"It is obvious. And now, you see, I had narrowed the field down considerably. The possession of a grey garment was a third point which, granting the son's statement to be correct, was a certainty. We have come now out of mere vagueness to the definite conception of an Australian from Ballarat with a grey cloak."

"Certainly."

"And one who was at home in the district, for the pool can only be approached by the farm or by the estate, where strangers could hardly wander."

"Quite so."

"Then comes our expedition of to-day. By an examination of the ground I gained the trifling details which I gave to that imbecile Lestrade, as to the personality of the criminal."

"But how did you gain them?"

"You know my method. It is founded upon the observation of trifles."

"His height I know that you might roughly judge from the length of his stride. His boots, too, might be told from their traces."

"Yes, they were peculiar boots."

"But his lameness?"

"The impression of his right foot was always less distinct than his left. He put less weight upon it. Why? Because he limped--he was lame."

"But his left-handedness."

"You were yourself struck by the nature of the injury as recorded by the surgeon at the inquest. The blow was struck from immediately behind, and yet was upon the left side. Now, how can that be unless it were by a left-handed man? He had stood behind that tree during the interview between the father and son. He had even smoked there. I found the ash of a cigar, which my special knowledge of tobacco ashes enables me to pronounce as an Indian cigar. I have, as you know, devoted some attention to this, and written a little monograph on the ashes of 140 different varieties of pipe, cigar, and cigarette tobacco. Having found the ash, I then looked round and discovered the stump among the moss where he had tossed it. It was an Indian cigar, of the variety which are rolled in Rotterdam."

"And the cigar-holder?"

"I could see that the end had not been in his mouth. Therefore he used a holder. The tip had been cut off, not bitten off, but the cut was not a clean one, so I deduced a blunt pen-knife."

"Holmes," I said, "you have drawn a net round this man from which he cannot escape, and you have saved an innocent human life as truly as if you had cut the cord which was hanging him. I see the direction in which all this points. The culprit is--"

"Mr. John Turner," cried the hotel waiter, opening the door of our sitting-room, and ushering in a visitor.

The man who entered was a strange and impressive figure. His slow, limping step and bowed shoulders gave the appearance of decrepitude, and yet his hard, deep-lined, craggy features, and his enormous limbs showed that he was possessed of unusual strength of body and of character. His tangled beard, grizzled hair, and outstanding, drooping eyebrows combined to give an air of dignity and power to his appearance, but his face was of an ashen white, while his lips and the corners of his nostrils were tinged with a shade of blue. It was clear to me at a glance that he was in the grip of some deadly and chronic disease.

"Pray sit down on the sofa," said Holmes gently. "You had my note?"

"Yes, the lodge-keeper brought it up. You said that you wished to see me here to avoid scandal."

"I thought people would talk if I went to the Hall."

"And why did you wish to see me?" He looked across at my companion with despair in his weary eyes, as though his question was already answered.

"Yes," said Holmes, answering the look rather than the words. "It is so. I know all about McCarthy."

The old man sank his face in his hands. "God help me!" he cried. "But I would not have let the young man come to harm. I give you my word that I would have spoken out if it went against him at the Assizes."

"I am glad to hear you say so," said Holmes gravely.

"I would have spoken now had it not been for my dear girl. It would break her heart--it will break her heart when she hears that I am arrested."

"It may not come to that," said Holmes.

"What?"

"I am no official agent. I understand that it was your daughter who required my presence here, and I am acting in her interests. Young McCarthy must be got off, however."

"I am a dying man," said old Turner. "I have had diabetes for years. My doctor says it is a question whether I shall live a month. Yet I would rather die under my own roof than in a gaol."

Holmes rose and sat down at the table with his pen in his hand and a bundle of paper before him. "Just tell us the truth," he said. "I shall jot down the facts. You will sign it, and Watson here can witness it. Then I could produce your confession at the last extremity to save young McCarthy. I promise you that I shall not use it unless it is absolutely needed."

"It's as well," said the old man; "it's a question whether I shall live to the Assizes, so it matters little to me, but I should wish to spare Alice the shock. And now I will make the thing clear to you; it has been a long time in the acting, but will not take me long to tell.

"You didn't know this dead man, McCarthy. He was a devil incarnate. I tell you that. God keep you out of the clutches of such a man as he. His grip has been upon me these twenty years, and he has blasted my life. I'll tell you first how I came to be in his power.

"It was in the early '60's at the diggings. I was a young chap then, hot-blooded and reckless, ready to turn my hand at anything; I got among bad companions, took to drink, had no luck with my claim, took to the bush, and in a word became what you would call over here a highway robber. There were six of us, and we had a wild, free life of it, sticking up a station from time to time, or stopping the wagons on the road to the diggings. Black Jack of Ballarat was the name I went under, and our party is still remembered in the colony as the Ballarat Gang.

"One day a gold convoy came down from Ballarat to Melbourne, and we lay in wait for it and attacked it. There were six troopers and six of us, so it was a close thing, but we emptied four of their saddles at the first volley. Three of our boys were killed, however, before we got the swag. I put my pistol to the head of the wagon-driver, who was this very man McCarthy. I wish to the Lord that I had shot him then, but I spared him, though I saw his wicked little eyes fixed on my face, as though to remember every feature. We got away with the gold, became wealthy men, and made our way over to England without being suspected. There I parted from my old pals and determined to settle down to a quiet and respectable life. I bought this estate, which chanced to be in the market, and I set myself to do a little good with my money, to make up for the way in which I had earned it. I married, too, and though my wife died young she left me my dear little Alice. Even when she was just a baby her wee hand seemed to lead me down the right path as nothing else had ever done. In a word, I turned over a new leaf and did my best to make up for the past. All was going well when McCarthy laid his grip upon me.

"I had gone up to town about an investment, and I met him in Regent Street with hardly a coat to his back or a boot to his foot.

" 'Here we are, Jack,' says he, touching me on the arm; 'we'll be as good as a family to you. There's two of us, me and my son, and you can have the keeping of us. If you don't--it's a fine, law-abiding country is England, and there's always a policeman within hail.'

"Well, down they came to the west country, there was no shaking them off, and there they have lived rent free on my best land ever since. There was no rest for me, no peace, no forgetfulness; turn where I would, there was his cunning, grinning face at my elbow. It grew worse as Alice grew up, for he soon saw I was more afraid of her knowing my past than of the police. Whatever he wanted he must have, and whatever it was I gave him without question, land, money, houses, until at last he asked a thing which I could not give. He asked for Alice.

"His son, you see, had grown up, and so had my girl, and as I was known to be in weak health, it seemed a fine stroke to him that his lad should step into the whole property. But there I was firm. I would not have his cursed stock mixed with mine; not that I had any dislike to the lad, but his blood was in him, and that was enough. I stood firm. McCarthy threatened. I braved him to do his worst. We were to meet at the pool midway between our houses to talk it over.

"When I went down there I found him talking with his son, so I smoked a cigar and waited behind a tree until he should be alone. But as I listened to his talk all that was black and bitter in me seemed to come uppermost. He was urging his son to marry my daughter with as little regard for what she might think as if she were a slut from off the streets. It drove me mad to think that I and all that I held most dear should be in the power of such a man as this. Could I not snap the bond? I was already a dying and a desperate man. Though clear of mind and fairly strong of limb, I knew that my own fate was sealed. But my memory and my girl! Both could be saved if I could but silence that foul tongue. I did it, Mr. Holmes. I would do it again. Deeply as I have sinned, I have led a life of martyrdom to atone for it. But that my girl should be entangled in the same meshes which held me was more than I could suffer. I struck him down with no more compunction than if he had been some foul and venomous beast. His cry brought back his son; but I had gained the cover of the wood, though I was forced to go back to fetch the cloak which I had dropped in my flight. That is the true story, gentlemen, of all that occurred."

"Well, it is not for me to judge you," said Holmes as the old man signed the statement which had been drawn out. "I pray that we may never be exposed to such a temptation."

"I pray not, sir. And what do you intend to do?"

"In view of your health, nothing. You are yourself aware that you will soon have to answer for your deed at a higher court than the Assizes. I will keep your confession, and if McCarthy is condemned I shall be forced to use it. If not, it shall never be seen by mortal eye; and your secret, whether you be alive or dead, shall be safe with us."

"Farewell, then," said the old man solemnly. "Your own deathbeds, when they come, will be the easier for the thought of the peace which you have given to mine." Tottering and shaking in all his giant frame, he stumbled slowly from the room.

"God help us!" said Holmes after a long silence. "Why does fate play such tricks with poor, helpless worms? I never hear of such a case as this that I do not think of Baxter's words, and say, 'There, but for the grace of God, goes Sherlock Holmes.' "

James McCarthy was acquitted at the Assizes on the strength of a number of objections which had been drawn out by Holmes and submitted to the defending counsel. Old Turner lived for seven months after our interview, but he is now dead; and there is every prospect that the son and daughter may come to live happily together in ignorance of the black cloud which rests upon their past.

ADVENTURE  V.  THE FIVE ORANGE PIPS


When I glance over my notes and records of the Sherlock Holmes cases between the years '82 and '90, I am faced by so many which present strange and interesting features that it is no easy matter to know which to choose and which to leave. Some, however, have already gained publicity through the papers, and others have not offered a field for those peculiar qualities which my friend possessed in so high a degree, and which it is the object of these papers to illustrate. Some, too, have baffled his analytical skill, and would be, as narratives, beginnings without an ending, while others have been but partially cleared up, and have their explanations founded rather upon conjecture and surmise than on that absolute logical proof which was so dear to him. There is, however, one of these last which was so remarkable in its details and so startling in its results that I am tempted to give some account of it in spite of the fact that there are points in connection with it which never have been, and probably never will be, entirely cleared up.

The year '87 furnished us with a long series of cases of greater or less interest, of which I retain the records. Among my headings under this one twelve months I find an account of the adventure of the Paradol Chamber, of the Amateur Mendicant Society, who held a luxurious club in the lower vault of a furniture warehouse, of the facts connected with the loss of the British barque Sophy Anderson, of the singular adventures of the Grice Patersons in the island of Uffa, and finally of the Camberwell poisoning case. In the latter, as may be remembered, Sherlock Holmes was able, by winding up the dead man's watch, to prove that it had been wound up two hours before, and that therefore the deceased had gone to bed within that time--a deduction which was of the greatest importance in clearing up the case. All these I may sketch out at some future date, but none of them present such singular features as the strange train of circumstances which I have now taken up my pen to describe.

It was in the latter days of September, and the equinoctial gales had set in with exceptional violence. All day the wind had screamed and the rain had beaten against the windows, so that even here in the heart of great, hand-made London we were forced to raise our minds for the instant from the routine of life and to recognise the presence of those great elemental forces which shriek at mankind through the bars of his civilisation, like untamed beasts in a cage. As evening drew in, the storm grew higher and louder, and the wind cried and sobbed like a child in the chimney. Sherlock Holmes sat moodily at one side of the fireplace cross-indexing his records of crime, while I at the other was deep in one of Clark Russell's fine sea-stories until the howl of the gale from without seemed to blend with the text, and the splash of the rain to lengthen out into the long swash of the sea waves. My wife was on a visit to her mother's, and for a few days I was a dweller once more in my old quarters at Baker Street.

"Why," said I, glancing up at my companion, "that was surely the bell. Who could come to-night? Some friend of yours, perhaps?"

"Except yourself I have none," he answered. "I do not encourage visitors."

"A client, then?"

"If so, it is a serious case. Nothing less would bring a man out on such a day and at such an hour. But I take it that it is more likely to be some crony of the landlady's."

Sherlock Holmes was wrong in his conjecture, however, for there came a step in the passage and a tapping at the door. He stretched out his long arm to turn the lamp away from himself and towards the vacant chair upon which a newcomer must sit.

"Come in!" said he.

The man who entered was young, some two-and-twenty at the outside, well-groomed and trimly clad, with something of refinement and delicacy in his bearing. The streaming umbrella which he held in his hand, and his long shining waterproof told of the fierce weather through which he had come. He looked about him anxiously in the glare of the lamp, and I could see that his face was pale and his eyes heavy, like those of a man who is weighed down with some great anxiety.

"I owe you an apology," he said, raising his golden pince-nez to his eyes. "I trust that I am not intruding. I fear that I have brought some traces of the storm and rain into your snug chamber."

"Give me your coat and umbrella," said Holmes. "They may rest here on the hook and will be dry presently. You have come up from the south-west, I see."

"Yes, from Horsham."

"That clay and chalk mixture which I see upon your toe caps is quite distinctive."

"I have come for advice."

"That is easily got."

"And help."

"That is not always so easy."

"I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes. I heard from Major Prendergast how you saved him in the Tankerville Club scandal."

"Ah, of course. He was wrongfully accused of cheating at cards."

"He said that you could solve anything."

"He said too much."

"That you are never beaten."

"I have been beaten four times--three times by men, and once by a woman."

"But what is that compared with the number of your successes?"

"It is true that I have been generally successful."

"Then you may be so with me."

"I beg that you will draw your chair up to the fire and favour me with some details as to your case."

"It is no ordinary one."

"None of those which come to me are. I am the last court of appeal."

"And yet I question, sir, whether, in all your experience, you have ever listened to a more mysterious and inexplicable chain of events than those which have happened in my own family."

"You fill me with interest," said Holmes. "Pray give us the essential facts from the commencement, and I can afterwards question you as to those details which seem to me to be most important."

The young man pulled his chair up and pushed his wet feet out towards the blaze.

"My name," said he, "is John Openshaw, but my own affairs have, as far as I can understand, little to do with this awful business. It is a hereditary matter; so in order to give you an idea of the facts, I must go back to the commencement of the affair.

"You must know that my grandfather had two sons--my uncle Elias and my father Joseph. My father had a small factory at Coventry, which he enlarged at the time of the invention of bicycling. He was a patentee of the Openshaw unbreakable tire, and his business met with such success that he was able to sell it and to retire upon a handsome competence.

"My uncle Elias emigrated to America when he was a young man and became a planter in Florida, where he was reported to have done very well. At the time of the war he fought in Jackson's army, and afterwards under Hood, where he rose to be a colonel. When Lee laid down his arms my uncle returned to his plantation, where he remained for three or four years. About 1869 or 1870 he came back to Europe and took a small estate in Sussex, near Horsham. He had made a very considerable fortune in the States, and his reason for leaving them was his aversion to the negroes, and his dislike of the Republican policy in extending the franchise to them. He was a singular man, fierce and quick-tempered, very foul-mouthed when he was angry, and of a most retiring disposition. During all the years that he lived at Horsham, I doubt if ever he set foot in the town. He had a garden and two or three fields round his house, and there he would take his exercise, though very often for weeks on end he would never leave his room. He drank a great deal of brandy and smoked very heavily, but he would see no society and did not want any friends, not even his own brother.

"He didn't mind me; in fact, he took a fancy to me, for at the time when he saw me first I was a youngster of twelve or so. This would be in the year 1878, after he had been eight or nine years in England. He begged my father to let me live with him and he was very kind to me in his way. When he was sober he used to be fond of playing backgammon and draughts with me, and he would make me his representative both with the servants and with the tradespeople, so that by the time that I was sixteen I was quite master of the house. I kept all the keys and could go where I liked and do what I liked, so long as I did not disturb him in his privacy. There was one singular exception, however, for he had a single room, a lumber-room up among the attics, which was invariably locked, and which he would never permit either me or anyone else to enter. With a boy's curiosity I have peeped through the keyhole, but I was never able to see more than such a collection of old trunks and bundles as would be expected in such a room.

"One day--it was in March, 1883--a letter with a foreign stamp lay upon the table in front of the colonel's plate. It was not a common thing for him to receive letters, for his bills were all paid in ready money, and he had no friends of any sort. 'From India!' said he as he took it up, 'Pondicherry postmark! What can this be?' Opening it hurriedly, out there jumped five little dried orange pips, which pattered down upon his plate. I began to laugh at this, but the laugh was struck from my lips at the sight of his face. His lip had fallen, his eyes were protruding, his skin the colour of putty, and he glared at the envelope which he still held in his trembling hand, 'K. K. K.!' he shrieked, and then, 'My God, my God, my sins have overtaken me!'

" 'What is it, uncle?' I cried.

" 'Death,' said he, and rising from the table he retired to his room, leaving me palpitating with horror. I took up the envelope and saw scrawled in red ink upon the inner flap, just above the gum, the letter K three times repeated. There was nothing else save the five dried pips. What could be the reason of his overpowering terror? I left the breakfast-table, and as I ascended the stair I met him coming down with an old rusty key, which must have belonged to the attic, in one hand, and a small brass box, like a cashbox, in the other.

" 'They may do what they like, but I'll checkmate them still,' said he with an oath. 'Tell Mary that I shall want a fire in my room to-day, and send down to Fordham, the Horsham lawyer.'

"I did as he ordered, and when the lawyer arrived I was asked to step up to the room. The fire was burning brightly, and in the grate there was a mass of black, fluffy ashes, as of burned paper, while the brass box stood open and empty beside it. As I glanced at the box I noticed, with a start, that upon the lid was printed the treble K which I had read in the morning upon the envelope.

" 'I wish you, John,' said my uncle, 'to witness my will. I leave my estate, with all its advantages and all its disadvantages, to my brother, your father, whence it will, no doubt, descend to you. If you can enjoy it in peace, well and good! If you find you cannot, take my advice, my boy, and leave it to your deadliest enemy. I am sorry to give you such a two-edged thing, but I can't say what turn things are going to take. Kindly sign the paper where Mr. Fordham shows you.'

"I signed the paper as directed, and the lawyer took it away with him. The singular incident made, as you may think, the deepest impression upon me, and I pondered over it and turned it every way in my mind without being able to make anything of it. Yet I could not shake off the vague feeling of dread which it left behind, though the sensation grew less keen as the weeks passed and nothing happened to disturb the usual routine of our lives. I could see a change in my uncle, however. He drank more than ever, and he was less inclined for any sort of society. Most of his time he would spend in his room, with the door locked upon the inside, but sometimes he would emerge in a sort of drunken frenzy and would burst out of the house and tear about the garden with a revolver in his hand, screaming out that he was afraid of no man, and that he was not to be cooped up, like a sheep in a pen, by man or devil. When these hot fits were over, however, he would rush tumultuously in at the door and lock and bar it behind him, like a man who can brazen it out no longer against the terror which lies at the roots of his soul. At such times I have seen his face, even on a cold day, glisten with moisture, as though it were new raised from a basin.

"Well, to come to an end of the matter, Mr. Holmes, and not to abuse your patience, there came a night when he made one of those drunken sallies from which he never came back. We found him, when we went to search for him, face downward in a little green-scummed pool, which lay at the foot of the garden. There was no sign of any violence, and the water was but two feet deep, so that the jury, having regard to his known eccentricity, brought in a verdict of 'suicide.' But I, who knew how he winced from the very thought of death, had much ado to persuade myself that he had gone out of his way to meet it. The matter passed, however, and my father entered into possession of the estate, and of some $14,000, which lay to his credit at the bank."

"One moment," Holmes interposed, "your statement is, I foresee, one of the most remarkable to which I have ever listened. Let me have the date of the reception by your uncle of the letter, and the date of his supposed suicide."

"The letter arrived on March 10, 1883. His death was seven weeks later, upon the night of May 2nd."

"Thank you. Pray proceed."

"When my father took over the Horsham property, he, at my request, made a careful examination of the attic, which had been always locked up. We found the brass box there, although its contents had been destroyed. On the inside of the cover was a paper label, with the initials of K. K. K. repeated upon it, and 'Letters, memoranda, receipts, and a register' written beneath. These, we presume, indicated the nature of the papers which had been destroyed by Colonel Openshaw. For the rest, there was nothing of much importance in the attic save a great many scattered papers and note-books bearing upon my uncle's life in America. Some of them were of the war time and showed that he had done his duty well and had borne the repute of a brave soldier. Others were of a date during the reconstruction of the Southern states, and were mostly concerned with politics, for he had evidently taken a strong part in opposing the carpet-bag politicians who had been sent down from the North.

"Well, it was the beginning of '84 when my father came to live at Horsham, and all went as well as possible with us until the January of '85. On the fourth day after the new year I heard my father give a sharp cry of surprise as we sat together at the breakfast-table. There he was, sitting with a newly opened envelope in one hand and five dried orange pips in the outstretched palm of the other one. He had always laughed at what he called my cock-and-bull story about the colonel, but he looked very scared and puzzled now that the same thing had come upon himself.

" 'Why, what on earth does this mean, John?' he stammered.

"My heart had turned to lead. 'It is K. K. K.,' said I.

"He looked inside the envelope. 'So it is,' he cried. 'Here are the very letters. But what is this written above them?'

" 'Put the papers on the sundial,' I read, peeping over his shoulder.

" 'What papers? What sundial?' he asked.

" 'The sundial in the garden. There is no other,' said I; 'but the papers must be those that are destroyed.'

" 'Pooh!' said he, gripping hard at his courage. 'We are in a civilised land here, and we can't have tomfoolery of this kind. Where does the thing come from?'

" 'From Dundee,' I answered, glancing at the postmark.

" 'Some preposterous practical joke,' said he. 'What have I to do with sundials and papers? I shall take no notice of such nonsense.'

" 'I should certainly speak to the police,' I said.

" 'And be laughed at for my pains. Nothing of the sort.'

" 'Then let me do so?'

" 'No, I forbid you. I won't have a fuss made about such nonsense.'

"It was in vain to argue with him, for he was a very obstinate man. I went about, however, with a heart which was full of forebodings.

"On the third day after the coming of the letter my father went from home to visit an old friend of his, Major Freebody, who is in command of one of the forts upon Portsdown Hill. I was glad that he should go, for it seemed to me that he was farther from danger when he was away from home. In that, however, I was in error. Upon the second day of his absence I received a telegram from the major, imploring me to come at once. My father had fallen over one of the deep chalk-pits which abound in the neighbourhood, and was lying senseless, with a shattered skull. I hurried to him, but he passed away without having ever recovered his consciousness. He had, as it appears, been returning from Fareham in the twilight, and as the country was unknown to him, and the chalk-pit unfenced, the jury had no hesitation in bringing in a verdict of 'death from accidental causes.' Carefully as I examined every fact connected with his death, I was unable to find anything which could suggest the idea of murder. There were no signs of violence, no footmarks, no robbery, no record of strangers having been seen upon the roads. And yet I need not tell you that my mind was far from at ease, and that I was well-nigh certain that some foul plot had been woven round him.

"In this sinister way I came into my inheritance. You will ask me why I did not dispose of it? I answer, because I was well convinced that our troubles were in some way dependent upon an incident in my uncle's life, and that the danger would be as pressing in one house as in another.

"It was in January, '85, that my poor father met his end, and two years and eight months have elapsed since then. During that time I have lived happily at Horsham, and I had begun to hope that this curse had passed away from the family, and that it had ended with the last generation. I had begun to take comfort too soon, however; yesterday morning the blow fell in the very shape in which it had come upon my father."

The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and turning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange pips.

"This is the envelope," he continued. "The postmark is London--eastern division. Within are the very words which were upon my father's last message: 'K. K. K.'; and then 'Put the papers on the sundial.' "

"What have you done?" asked Holmes.

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"To tell the truth"--he sank his face into his thin, white hands--"I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions can guard against."

"Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, man, or you are lost. Nothing but energy can save you. This is no time for despair."

"I have seen the police."

"Ah!"

"But they listened to my story with a smile. I am convinced that the inspector has formed the opinion that the letters are all practical jokes, and that the deaths of my relations were really accidents, as the jury stated, and were not to be connected with the warnings."

Holmes shook his clenched hands in the air. "Incredible imbecility!" he cried.

"They have, however, allowed me a policeman, who may remain in the house with me."

"Has he come with you to-night?"

"No. His orders were to stay in the house."

Again Holmes raved in the air.

"Why did you come to me," he cried, "and, above all, why did you not come at once?"

"I did not know. It was only to-day that I spoke to Major Prendergast about my troubles and was advised by him to come to you."

"It is really two days since you had the letter. We should have acted before this. You have no further evidence, I suppose, than that which you have placed before us--no suggestive detail which might help us?"

"There is one thing," said John Openshaw. He rummaged in his coat pocket, and, drawing out a piece of discoloured, blue-tinted paper, he laid it out upon the table. "I have some remembrance," said he, "that on the day when my uncle burned the papers I observed that the small, unburned margins which lay amid the ashes were of this particular colour. I found this single sheet upon the floor of his room, and I am inclined to think that it may be one of the papers which has, perhaps, fluttered out from among the others, and in that way has escaped destruction. Beyond the mention of pips, I do not see that it helps us much. I think myself that it is a page from some private diary. The writing is undoubtedly my uncle's."

Holmes moved the lamp, and we both bent over the sheet of paper, which showed by its ragged edge that it had indeed been torn from a book. It was headed, "March, 1869," and beneath were the following enigmatical notices:

"4th. Hudson came. Same old platform.

"7th. Set the pips on McCauley, Paramore, and

        John Swain, of St. Augustine.

"9th. McCauley cleared.

"10th. John Swain cleared.

"12th. Visited Paramore. All well."

"Thank you!" said Holmes, folding up the paper and returning it to our visitor. "And now you must on no account lose another instant. We cannot spare time even to discuss what you have told me. You must get home instantly and act."

"What shall I do?"

"There is but one thing to do. It must be done at once. You must put this piece of paper which you have shown us into the brass box which you have described. You must also put in a note to say that all the other papers were burned by your uncle, and that this is the only one which remains. You must assert that in such words as will carry conviction with them. Having done this, you must at once put the box out upon the sundial, as directed. Do you understand?"

"Entirely."

"Do not think of revenge, or anything of the sort, at present. I think that we may gain that by means of the law; but we have our web to weave, while theirs is already woven. The first consideration is to remove the pressing danger which threatens you. The second is to clear up the mystery and to punish the guilty parties."

"I thank you," said the young man, rising and pulling on his overcoat. "You have given me fresh life and hope. I shall certainly do as you advise."

"Do not lose an instant. And, above all, take care of yourself in the meanwhile, for I do not think that there can be a doubt that you are threatened by a very real and imminent danger. How do you go back?"

"By train from Waterloo."

"It is not yet nine. The streets will be crowded, so I trust that you may be in safety. And yet you cannot guard yourself too closely."

"I am armed."

"That is well. To-morrow I shall set to work upon your case."

"I shall see you at Horsham, then?"

"No, your secret lies in London. It is there that I shall seek it."

"Then I shall call upon you in a day, or in two days, with news as to the box and the papers. I shall take your advice in every particular." He shook hands with us and took his leave. Outside the wind still screamed and the rain splashed and pattered against the windows. This strange, wild story seemed to have come to us from amid the mad elements--blown in upon us like a sheet of sea-weed in a gale--and now to have been reabsorbed by them once more.

Sherlock Holmes sat for some time in silence, with his head sunk forward and his eyes bent upon the red glow of the fire. Then he lit his pipe, and leaning back in his chair he watched the blue smoke-rings as they chased each other up to the ceiling.

"I think, Watson," he remarked at last, "that of all our cases we have had none more fantastic than this."

"Save, perhaps, the Sign of Four."

"Well, yes. Save, perhaps, that. And yet this John Openshaw seems to me to be walking amid even greater perils than did the Sholtos."

"But have you," I asked, "formed any definite conception as to what these perils are?"

"There can be no question as to their nature," he answered.

"Then what are they? Who is this K. K. K., and why does he pursue this unhappy family?"

Sherlock Holmes closed his eyes and placed his elbows upon the arms of his chair, with his finger-tips together. "The ideal reasoner," he remarked, "would, when he had once been shown a single fact in all its bearings, deduce from it not only all the chain of events which led up to it but also all the results which would follow from it. As Cuvier could correctly describe a whole animal by the contemplation of a single bone, so the observer who has thoroughly understood one link in a series of incidents should be able to accurately state all the other ones, both before and after. We have not yet grasped the results which the reason alone can attain to. Problems may be solved in the study which have baffled all those who have sought a solution by the aid of their senses. To carry the art, however, to its highest pitch, it is necessary that the reasoner should be able to utilise all the facts which have come to his knowledge; and this in itself implies, as you will readily see, a possession of all knowledge, which, even in these days of free education and encyclopaedias, is a somewhat rare accomplishment. It is not so impossible, however, that a man should possess all knowledge which is likely to be useful to him in his work, and this I have endeavoured in my case to do. If I remember rightly, you on one occasion, in the early days of our friendship, defined my limits in a very precise fashion."

"Yes," I answered, laughing. "It was a singular document. Philosophy, astronomy, and politics were marked at zero, I remember. Botany variable, geology profound as regards the mud-stains from any region within fifty miles of town, chemistry eccentric, anatomy unsystematic, sensational literature and crime records unique, violin-player, boxer, swordsman, lawyer, and self-poisoner by cocaine and tobacco. Those, I think, were the main points of my analysis."

Holmes grinned at the last item. "Well," he said, "I say now, as I said then, that a man should keep his little brain-attic stocked with all the furniture that he is likely to use, and the rest he can put away in the lumber-room of his library, where he can get it if he wants it. Now, for such a case as the one which has been submitted to us to-night, we need certainly to muster all our resources. Kindly hand me down the letter K of the American Encyclopaedia which stands upon the shelf beside you. Thank you. Now let us consider the situation and see what may be deduced from it. In the first place, we may start with a strong presumption that Colonel Openshaw had some very strong reason for leaving America. Men at his time of life do not change all their habits and exchange willingly the charming climate of Florida for the lonely life of an English provincial town. His extreme love of solitude in England suggests the idea that he was in fear of someone or something, so we may assume as a working hypothesis that it was fear of someone or something which drove him from America. As to what it was he feared, we can only deduce that by considering the formidable letters which were received by himself and his successors. Did you remark the postmarks of those letters?"

"The first was from Pondicherry, the second from Dundee, and the third from London."

"From East London. What do you deduce from that?"

"They are all seaports. That the writer was on board of a ship."

"Excellent. We have already a clue. There can be no doubt that the probability--the strong probability--is that the writer was on board of a ship. And now let us consider another point. In the case of Pondicherry, seven weeks elapsed between the threat and its fulfilment, in Dundee it was only some three or four days. Does that suggest anything?"

"A greater distance to travel."

"But the letter had also a greater distance to come."

"Then I do not see the point."

"There is at least a presumption that the vessel in which the man or men are is a sailing-ship. It looks as if they always send their singular warning or token before them when starting upon their mission. You see how quickly the deed followed the sign when it came from Dundee. If they had come from Pondicherry in a steamer they would have arrived almost as soon as their letter. But, as a matter of fact, seven weeks elapsed. I think that those seven weeks represented the difference between the mail-boat which brought the letter and the sailing vessel which brought the writer."

"It is possible."

"More than that. It is probable. And now you see the deadly urgency of this new case, and why I urged young Openshaw to caution. The blow has always fallen at the end of the time which it would take the senders to travel the distance. But this one comes from London, and therefore we cannot count upon delay."

"Good God!" I cried. "What can it mean, this relentless persecution?"

"The papers which Openshaw carried are obviously of vital importance to the person or persons in the sailing-ship. I think that it is quite clear that there must be more than one of them. A single man could not have carried out two deaths in such a way as to deceive a coroner's jury. There must have been several in it, and they must have been men of resource and determination. Their papers they mean to have, be the holder of them who it may. In this way you see K. K. K. ceases to be the initials of an individual and becomes the badge of a society."

"But of what society?"

"Have you never--" said Sherlock Holmes, bending forward and sinking his voice--"have you never heard of the Ku Klux Klan?"

"I never have."

Holmes turned over the leaves of the book upon his knee. "Here it is," said he presently:

" 'Ku Klux Klan. A name derived from the fanciful resemblance to the sound produced by cocking a rifle. This terrible secret society was formed by some ex-Confederate soldiers in the Southern states after the Civil War, and it rapidly formed local branches in different parts of the country, notably in Tennessee, Louisiana, the Carolinas, Georgia, and Florida. Its power was used for political purposes, principally for the terrorising of the negro voters and the murdering and driving from the country of those who were opposed to its views. Its outrages were usually preceded by a warning sent to the marked man in some fantastic but generally recognised shape--a sprig of oak-leaves in some parts, melon seeds or orange pips in others. On receiving this the victim might either openly abjure his former ways, or might fly from the country. If he braved the matter out, death would unfailingly come upon him, and usually in some strange and unforeseen manner. So perfect was the organisation of the society, and so systematic its methods, that there is hardly a case upon record where any man succeeded in braving it with impunity, or in which any of its outrages were traced home to the perpetrators. For some years the organisation flourished in spite of the efforts of the United States government and of the better classes of the community in the South. Eventually, in the year 1869, the movement rather suddenly collapsed, although there have been sporadic outbreaks of the same sort since that date.'

"You will observe," said Holmes, laying down the volume, "that the sudden breaking up of the society was coincident with the disappearance of Openshaw from America with their papers. It may well have been cause and effect. It is no wonder that he and his family have some of the more implacable spirits upon their track. You can understand that this register and diary may implicate some of the first men in the South, and that there may be many who will not sleep easy at night until it is recovered."

"Then the page we have seen--"

"Is such as we might expect. It ran, if I remember right, 'sent the pips to A, B, and C'--that is, sent the society's warning to them. Then there are successive entries that A and B cleared, or left the country, and finally that C was visited, with, I fear, a sinister result for C. Well, I think, Doctor, that we may let some light into this dark place, and I believe that the only chance young Openshaw has in the meantime is to do what I have told him. There is nothing more to be said or to be done to-night, so hand me over my violin and let us try to forget for half an hour the miserable weather and the still more miserable ways of our fellow men."

It had cleared in the morning, and the sun was shining with a subdued brightness through the dim veil which hangs over the great city. Sherlock Holmes was already at breakfast when I came down.

"You will excuse me for not waiting for you," said he; "I have, I foresee, a very busy day before me in looking into this case of young Openshaw's."

"What steps will you take?" I asked.

"It will very much depend upon the results of my first inquiries. I may have to go down to Horsham, after all."

"You will not go there first?"

"No, I shall commence with the City. Just ring the bell and the maid will bring up your coffee."

As I waited, I lifted the unopened newspaper from the table and glanced my eye over it. It rested upon a heading which sent a chill to my heart.

"Holmes," I cried, "you are too late."

"Ah!" said he, laying down his cup, "I feared as much. How was it done?" He spoke calmly, but I could see that he was deeply moved.

"My eye caught the name of Openshaw, and the heading 'Tragedy Near Waterloo Bridge.' Here is the account:

" 'Between nine and ten last night Police-Constable Cook, of the H Division, on duty near Waterloo Bridge, heard a cry for help and a splash in the water. The night, however, was extremely dark and stormy, so that, in spite of the help of several passers-by, it was quite impossible to effect a rescue. The alarm, however, was given, and, by the aid of the water-police, the body was eventually recovered. It proved to be that of a young gentleman whose name, as it appears from an envelope which was found in his pocket, was John Openshaw, and whose residence is near Horsham. It is conjectured that he may have been hurrying down to catch the last train from Waterloo Station, and that in his haste and the extreme darkness he missed his path and walked over the edge of one of the small landing-places for river steamboats. The body exhibited no traces of violence, and there can be no doubt that the deceased had been the victim of an unfortunate accident, which should have the effect of calling the attention of the authorities to the condition of the riverside landing-stages.' "

We sat in silence for some minutes, Holmes more depressed and shaken than I had ever seen him.

"That hurts my pride, Watson," he said at last. "It is a petty feeling, no doubt, but it hurts my pride. It becomes a personal matter with me now, and, if God sends me health, I shall set my hand upon this gang. That he should come to me for help, and that I should send him away to his death--!" He sprang from his chair and paced about the room in uncontrollable agitation, with a flush upon his sallow cheeks and a nervous clasping and unclasping of his long thin hands.

"They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last. "How could they have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the direct line to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too crowded, even on such a night, for their purpose. Well, Watson, we shall see who will win in the long run. I am going out now!"

"To the police?"

"No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may take the flies, but not before."

All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in the evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes had not come back yet. It was nearly ten o'clock before he entered, looking pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard, and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously, washing it down with a long draught of water.

"You are hungry," I remarked.

"Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing since breakfast."

"Nothing?"

"Not a bite. I had no time to think of it."

"And how have you succeeded?"

"Well."

"You have a clue?"

"I have them in the hollow of my hand. Young Openshaw shall not long remain unavenged. Why, Watson, let us put their own devilish trade-mark upon them. It is well thought of!"

"What do you mean?"

He took an orange from the cupboard, and tearing it to pieces he squeezed out the pips upon the table. Of these he took five and thrust them into an envelope. On the inside of the flap he wrote "S. H. for J. O." Then he sealed it and addressed it to "Captain James Calhoun, Barque Lone Star, Savannah, Georgia."

"That will await him when he enters port," said he, chuckling. "It may give him a sleepless night. He will find it as sure a precursor of his fate as Openshaw did before him."

"And who is this Captain Calhoun?"

"The leader of the gang. I shall have the others, but he first."

"How did you trace it, then?"

He took a large sheet of paper from his pocket, all covered with dates and names.

"I have spent the whole day," said he, "over Lloyd's registers and files of the old papers, following the future career of every vessel which touched at Pondicherry in January and February in '83. There were thirty-six ships of fair tonnage which were reported there during those months. Of these, one, the Lone Star, instantly attracted my attention, since, although it was reported as having cleared from London, the name is that which is given to one of the states of the Union."

"Texas, I think."

"I was not and am not sure which; but I knew that the ship must have an American origin."

"What then?"

"I searched the Dundee records, and when I found that the barque Lone Star was there in January, '85, my suspicion became a certainty. I then inquired as to the vessels which lay at present in the port of London."

"Yes?"

"The Lone Star had arrived here last week. I went down to the Albert Dock and found that she had been taken down the river by the early tide this morning, homeward bound to Savannah. I wired to Gravesend and learned that she had passed some time ago, and as the wind is easterly I have no doubt that she is now past the Goodwins and not very far from the Isle of Wight."

"What will you do, then?"

"Oh, I have my hand upon him. He and the two mates, are as I learn, the only native-born Americans in the ship. The others are Finns and Germans. I know, also, that they were all three away from the ship last night. I had it from the stevedore who has been loading their cargo. By the time that their sailing-ship reaches Savannah the mail-boat will have carried this letter, and the cable will have informed the police of Savannah that these three gentlemen are badly wanted here upon a charge of murder."

There is ever a flaw, however, in the best laid of human plans, and the murderers of John Openshaw were never to receive the orange pips which would show them that another, as cunning and as resolute as themselves, was upon their track. Very long and very severe were the equinoctial gales that year. We waited long for news of the Lone Star of Savannah, but none ever reached us. We did at last hear that somewhere far out in the Atlantic a shattered stern-post of a boat was seen swinging in the trough of a wave, with the letters "L. S." carved upon it, and that is all which we shall ever know of the fate of the Lone Star.

ADVENTURE  VI.  THE MAN WITH THE TWISTED LIP


Isa Whitney, brother of the late Elias Whitney, D.D., Principal of the Theological College of St. George's, was much addicted to opium. The habit grew upon him, as I understand, from some foolish freak when he was at college; for having read De Quincey's description of his dreams and sensations, he had drenched his tobacco with laudanum in an attempt to produce the same effects. He found, as so many more have done, that the practice is easier to attain than to get rid of, and for many years he continued to be a slave to the drug, an object of mingled horror and pity to his friends and relatives. I can see him now, with yellow, pasty face, drooping lids, and pin-point pupils, all huddled in a chair, the wreck and ruin of a noble man.

One night--it was in June, '89--there came a ring to my bell, about the hour when a man gives his first yawn and glances at the clock. I sat up in my chair, and my wife laid her needle-work down in her lap and made a little face of disappointment.

"A patient!" said she. "You'll have to go out."

I groaned, for I was newly come back from a weary day.

We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps upon the linoleum. Our own door flew open, and a lady, clad in some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room.

"You will excuse my calling so late," she began, and then, suddenly losing her self-control, she ran forward, threw her arms about my wife's neck, and sobbed upon her shoulder. "Oh, I'm in such trouble!" she cried; "I do so want a little help."

"Why," said my wife, pulling up her veil, "it is Kate Whitney. How you startled me, Kate! I had not an idea who you were when you came in."

"I didn't know what to do, so I came straight to you." That was always the way. Folk who were in grief came to my wife like birds to a light-house.

"It was very sweet of you to come. Now, you must have some wine and water, and sit here comfortably and tell us all about it. Or should you rather that I sent James off to bed?"

"Oh, no, no! I want the doctor's advice and help, too. It's about Isa. He has not been home for two days. I am so frightened about him!"

It was not the first time that she had spoken to us of her husband's trouble, to me as a doctor, to my wife as an old friend and school companion. We soothed and comforted her by such words as we could find. Did she know where her husband was? Was it possible that we could bring him back to her?

It seems that it was. She had the surest information that of late he had, when the fit was on him, made use of an opium den in the farthest east of the City. Hitherto his orgies had always been confined to one day, and he had come back, twitching and shattered, in the evening. But now the spell had been upon him eight-and-forty hours, and he lay there, doubtless among the dregs of the docks, breathing in the poison or sleeping off the effects. There he was to be found, she was sure of it, at the Bar of Gold, in Upper Swandam Lane. But what was she to do? How could she, a young and timid woman, make her way into such a place and pluck her husband out from among the ruffians who surrounded him?

There was the case, and of course there was but one way out of it. Might I not escort her to this place? And then, as a second thought, why should she come at all? I was Isa Whitney's medical adviser, and as such I had influence over him. I could manage it better if I were alone. I promised her on my word that I would send him home in a cab within two hours if he were indeed at the address which she had given me. And so in ten minutes I had left my armchair and cheery sitting-room behind me, and was speeding eastward in a hansom on a strange errand, as it seemed to me at the time, though the future only could show how strange it was to be.

But there was no great difficulty in the first stage of my adventure. Upper Swandam Lane is a vile alley lurking behind the high wharves which line the north side of the river to the east of London Bridge. Between a slop-shop and a gin-shop, approached by a steep flight of steps leading down to a black gap like the mouth of a cave, I found the den of which I was in search. Ordering my cab to wait, I passed down the steps, worn hollow in the centre by the ceaseless tread of drunken feet; and by the light of a flickering oil-lamp above the door I found the latch and made my way into a long, low room, thick and heavy with the brown opium smoke, and terraced with wooden berths, like the forecastle of an emigrant ship.

Through the gloom one could dimly catch a glimpse of bodies lying in strange fantastic poses, bowed shoulders, bent knees, heads thrown back, and chins pointing upward, with here and there a dark, lack-lustre eye turned upon the newcomer. Out of the black shadows there glimmered little red circles of light, now bright, now faint, as the burning poison waxed or waned in the bowls of the metal pipes. The most lay silent, but some muttered to themselves, and others talked together in a strange, low, monotonous voice, their conversation coming in gushes, and then suddenly tailing off into silence, each mumbling out his own thoughts and paying little heed to the words of his neighbour. At the farther end was a small brazier of burning charcoal, beside which on a three-legged wooden stool there sat a tall, thin old man, with his jaw resting upon his two fists, and his elbows upon his knees, staring into the fire.

As I entered, a sallow Malay attendant had hurried up with a pipe for me and a supply of the drug, beckoning me to an empty berth.

"Thank you. I have not come to stay," said I. "There is a friend of mine here, Mr. Isa Whitney, and I wish to speak with him."

There was a movement and an exclamation from my right, and peering through the gloom, I saw Whitney, pale, haggard, and unkempt, staring out at me.

"My God! It's Watson," said he. He was in a pitiable state of reaction, with every nerve in a twitter. "I say, Watson, what o'clock is it?"

"Nearly eleven."

"Of what day?"

"Of Friday, June 19th."

"Good heavens! I thought it was Wednesday. It is Wednesday. What d'you want to frighten a chap for?" He sank his face onto his arms and began to sob in a high treble key.

"I tell you that it is Friday, man. Your wife has been waiting this two days for you. You should be ashamed of yourself!"

"So I am. But you've got mixed, Watson, for I have only been here a few hours, three pipes, four pipes--I forget how many. But I'll go home with you. I wouldn't frighten Kate--poor little Kate. Give me your hand! Have you a cab?"

"Yes, I have one waiting."

"Then I shall go in it. But I must owe something. Find what I owe, Watson. I am all off colour. I can do nothing for myself."

I walked down the narrow passage between the double row of sleepers, holding my breath to keep out the vile, stupefying fumes of the drug, and looking about for the manager. As I passed the tall man who sat by the brazier I felt a sudden pluck at my skirt, and a low voice whispered, "Walk past me, and then look back at me." The words fell quite distinctly upon my ear. I glanced down. They could only have come from the old man at my side, and yet he sat now as absorbed as ever, very thin, very wrinkled, bent with age, an opium pipe dangling down from between his knees, as though it had dropped in sheer lassitude from his fingers. I took two steps forward and looked back. It took all my self-control to prevent me from breaking out into a cry of astonishment. He had turned his back so that none could see him but I. His form had filled out, his wrinkles were gone, the dull eyes had regained their fire, and there, sitting by the fire and grinning at my surprise, was none other than Sherlock Holmes. He made a slight motion to me to approach him, and instantly, as he turned his face half round to the company once more, subsided into a doddering, loose-lipped senility.

"Holmes!" I whispered, "what on earth are you doing in this den?"

"As low as you can," he answered; "I have excellent ears. If you would have the great kindness to get rid of that sottish friend of yours I should be exceedingly glad to have a little talk with you."

"I have a cab outside."

"Then pray send him home in it. You may safely trust him, for he appears to be too limp to get into any mischief. I should recommend you also to send a note by the cabman to your wife to say that you have thrown in your lot with me. If you will wait outside, I shall be with you in five minutes."

It was difficult to refuse any of Sherlock Holmes' requests, for they were always so exceedingly definite, and put forward with such a quiet air of mastery. I felt, however, that when Whitney was once confined in the cab my mission was practically accomplished; and for the rest, I could not wish anything better than to be associated with my friend in one of those singular adventures which were the normal condition of his existence. In a few minutes I had written my note, paid Whitney's bill, led him out to the cab, and seen him driven through the darkness. In a very short time a decrepit figure had emerged from the opium den, and I was walking down the street with Sherlock Holmes. For two streets he shuffled along with a bent back and an uncertain foot. Then, glancing quickly round, he straightened himself out and burst into a hearty fit of laughter.

"I suppose, Watson," said he, "that you imagine that I have added opium-smoking to cocaine injections, and all the other little weaknesses on which you have favoured me with your medical views."

"I was certainly surprised to find you there."

"But not more so than I to find you."

"I came to find a friend."

"And I to find an enemy."

"An enemy?"

"Yes; one of my natural enemies, or, shall I say, my natural prey. Briefly, Watson, I am in the midst of a very remarkable inquiry, and I have hoped to find a clue in the incoherent ramblings of these sots, as I have done before now. Had I been recognised in that den my life would not have been worth an hour's purchase; for I have used it before now for my own purposes, and the rascally Lascar who runs it has sworn to have vengeance upon me. There is a trap-door at the back of that building, near the corner of Paul's Wharf, which could tell some strange tales of what has passed through it upon the moonless nights."

"What! You do not mean bodies?"

"Ay, bodies, Watson. We should be rich men if we had $1000 for every poor devil who has been done to death in that den. It is the vilest murder-trap on the whole riverside, and I fear that Neville St. Clair has entered it never to leave it more. But our trap should be here." He put his two forefingers between his teeth and whistled shrilly--a signal which was answered by a similar whistle from the distance, followed shortly by the rattle of wheels and the clink of horses' hoofs.

"Now, Watson," said Holmes, as a tall dog-cart dashed up through the gloom, throwing out two golden tunnels of yellow light from its side lanterns. "You'll come with me, won't you?"

"If I can be of use."

"Oh, a trusty comrade is always of use; and a chronicler still more so. My room at The Cedars is a double-bedded one."

"The Cedars?"

"Yes; that is Mr. St. Clair's house. I am staying there while I conduct the inquiry."

"Where is it, then?"

"Near Lee, in Kent. We have a seven-mile drive before us."

"But I am all in the dark."

"Of course you are. You'll know all about it presently. Jump up here. All right, John; we shall not need you. Here's half a crown. Look out for me to-morrow, about eleven. Give her her head. So long, then!"

He flicked the horse with his whip, and we dashed away through the endless succession of sombre and deserted streets, which widened gradually, until we were flying across a broad balustraded bridge, with the murky river flowing sluggishly beneath us. Beyond lay another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar, its silence broken only by the heavy, regular footfall of the policeman, or the songs and shouts of some belated party of revellers. A dull wrack was drifting slowly across the sky, and a star or two twinkled dimly here and there through the rifts of the clouds. Holmes drove in silence, with his head sunk upon his breast, and the air of a man who is lost in thought, while I sat beside him, curious to learn what this new quest might be which seemed to tax his powers so sorely, and yet afraid to break in upon the current of his thoughts. We had driven several miles, and were beginning to get to the fringe of the belt of suburban villas, when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders, and lit up his pipe with the air of a man who has satisfied himself that he is acting for the best.

"You have a grand gift of silence, Watson," said he. "It makes you quite invaluable as a companion. 'Pon my word, it is a great thing for me to have someone to talk to, for my own thoughts are not over-pleasant. I was wondering what I should say to this dear little woman to-night when she meets me at the door."

"You forget that I know nothing about it."

"I shall just have time to tell you the facts of the case before we get to Lee. It seems absurdly simple, and yet, somehow I can get nothing to go upon. There's plenty of thread, no doubt, but I can't get the end of it into my hand. Now, I'll state the case clearly and concisely to you, Watson, and maybe you can see a spark where all is dark to me."

"Proceed, then."

"Some years ago--to be definite, in May, 1884--there came to Lee a gentleman, Neville St. Clair by name, who appeared to have plenty of money. He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely, and lived generally in good style. By degrees he made friends in the neighbourhood, and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer, by whom he now has two children. He had no occupation, but was interested in several companies and went into town as a rule in the morning, returning by the 5:14 from Cannon Street every night. Mr. St. Clair is now thirty-seven years of age, is a man of temperate habits, a good husband, a very affectionate father, and a man who is popular with all who know him. I may add that his whole debts at the present moment, as far as we have been able to ascertain, amount to $88 10s., while he has $220 standing to his credit in the Capital and Counties Bank. There is no reason, therefore, to think that money troubles have been weighing upon his mind.

"Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier than usual, remarking before he started that he had two important commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy home a box of bricks. Now, by the merest chance, his wife received a telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly after his departure, to the effect that a small parcel of considerable value which she had been expecting was waiting for her at the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping Company. Now, if you are well up in your London, you will know that the office of the company is in Fresno Street, which branches out of Upper Swandam Lane, where you found me to-night. Mrs. St. Clair had her lunch, started for the City, did some shopping, proceeded to the company's office, got her packet, and found herself at exactly 4:35 walking through Swandam Lane on her way back to the station. Have you followed me so far?"

"It is very clear."

"If you remember, Monday was an exceedingly hot day, and Mrs. St. Clair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab, as she did not like the neighbourhood in which she found herself. While she was walking in this way down Swandam Lane, she suddenly heard an ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold to see her husband looking down at her and, as it seemed to her, beckoning to her from a second-floor window. The window was open, and she distinctly saw his face, which she describes as being terribly agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her, and then vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that he had been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind. One singular point which struck her quick feminine eye was that although he wore some dark coat, such as he had started to town in, he had on neither collar nor necktie.

"Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down the steps--for the house was none other than the opium den in which you found me to-night--and running through the front room she attempted to ascend the stairs which led to the first floor. At the foot of the stairs, however, she met this Lascar scoundrel of whom I have spoken, who thrust her back and, aided by a Dane, who acts as assistant there, pushed her out into the street. Filled with the most maddening doubts and fears, she rushed down the lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in Fresno Street a number of constables with an inspector, all on their way to their beat. The inspector and two men accompanied her back, and in spite of the continued resistance of the proprietor, they made their way to the room in which Mr. St. Clair had last been seen. There was no sign of him there. In fact, in the whole of that floor there was no one to be found save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect, who, it seems, made his home there. Both he and the Lascar stoutly swore that no one else had been in the front room during the afternoon. So determined was their denial that the inspector was staggered, and had almost come to believe that Mrs. St. Clair had been deluded when, with a cry, she sprang at a small deal box which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it. Out there fell a cascade of children's bricks. It was the toy which he had promised to bring home.

"This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple showed, made the inspector realise that the matter was serious. The rooms were carefully examined, and results all pointed to an abominable crime. The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting-room and led into a small bedroom, which looked out upon the back of one of the wharves. Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low tide but is covered at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water. The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below. On examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the windowsill, and several scattered drops were visible upon the wooden floor of the bedroom. Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were all the clothes of Mr. Neville St. Clair, with the exception of his coat. His boots, his socks, his hat, and his watch--all were there. There were no signs of violence upon any of these garments, and there were no other traces of Mr. Neville St. Clair. Out of the window he must apparently have gone for no other exit could be discovered, and the ominous bloodstains upon the sill gave little promise that he could save himself by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of the tragedy.

"And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated in the matter. The Lascar was known to be a man of the vilest antecedents, but as, by Mrs. St. Clair's story, he was known to have been at the foot of the stair within a very few seconds of her husband's appearance at the window, he could hardly have been more than an accessory to the crime. His defence was one of absolute ignorance, and he protested that he had no knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his lodger, and that he could not account in any way for the presence of the missing gentleman's clothes.

"So much for the Lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who lives upon the second floor of the opium den, and who was certainly the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St. Clair. His name is Hugh Boone, and his hideous face is one which is familiar to every man who goes much to the City. He is a professional beggar, though in order to avoid the police regulations he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas. Some little distance down Threadneedle Street, upon the left-hand side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall. Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat, cross-legged with his tiny stock of matches on his lap, and as he is a piteous spectacle a small rain of charity descends into the greasy leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him. I have watched the fellow more than once before ever I thought of making his professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time. His appearance, you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass him without observing him. A shock of orange hair, a pale face disfigured by a horrible scar, which, by its contraction, has turned up the outer edge of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes, which present a singular contrast to the colour of his hair, all mark him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants and so, too, does his wit, for he is ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which may be thrown at him by the passers-by. This is the man whom we now learn to have been the lodger at the opium den, and to have been the last man to see the gentleman of whom we are in quest."

"But a cripple!" said I. "What could he have done single-handed against a man in the prime of life?"

"He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but in other respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured man. Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson, that weakness in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional strength in the others."

"Pray continue your narrative."

"Mrs. St. Clair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the window, and she was escorted home in a cab by the police, as her presence could be of no help to them in their investigations. Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case, made a very careful examination of the premises, but without finding anything which threw any light upon the matter. One mistake had been made in not arresting Boone instantly, as he was allowed some few minutes during which he might have communicated with his friend the Lascar, but this fault was soon remedied, and he was seized and searched, without anything being found which could incriminate him. There were, it is true, some blood-stains upon his right shirt-sleeve, but he pointed to his ring-finger, which had been cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding came from there, adding that he had been to the window not long before, and that the stains which had been observed there came doubtless from the same source. He denied strenuously having ever seen Mr. Neville St. Clair and swore that the presence of the clothes in his room was as much a mystery to him as to the police. As to Mrs. St. Clair's assertion that she had actually seen her husband at the window, he declared that she must have been either mad or dreaming. He was removed, loudly protesting, to the police-station, while the inspector remained upon the premises in the hope that the ebbing tide might afford some fresh clue.

"And it did, though they hardly found upon the mud-bank what they had feared to find. It was Neville St. Clair's coat, and not Neville St. Clair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded. And what do you think they found in the pockets?"

"I cannot imagine."

"No, I don't think you would guess. Every pocket stuffed with pennies and half-pennies--421 pennies and 270 half-pennies. It was no wonder that it had not been swept away by the tide. But a human body is a different matter. There is a fierce eddy between the wharf and the house. It seemed likely enough that the weighted coat had remained when the stripped body had been sucked away into the river."

"But I understand that all the other clothes were found in the room. Would the body be dressed in a coat alone?"

"No, sir, but the facts might be met speciously enough. Suppose that this man Boone had thrust Neville St. Clair through the window, there is no human eye which could have seen the deed. What would he do then? It would of course instantly strike him that he must get rid of the tell-tale garments. He would seize the coat, then, and be in the act of throwing it out, when it would occur to him that it would swim and not sink. He has little time, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when the wife tried to force her way up, and perhaps he has already heard from his Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street. There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret hoard, where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the pockets to make sure of the coat's sinking. He throws it out, and would have done the same with the other garments had not he heard the rush of steps below, and only just had time to close the window when the police appeared."

"It certainly sounds feasible."

"Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better. Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the station, but it could not be shown that there had ever before been anything against him. He had for years been known as a professional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a very quiet and innocent one. There the matter stands at present, and the questions which have to be solved--what Neville St. Clair was doing in the opium den, what happened to him when there, where is he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his disappearance--are all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I cannot recall any case within my experience which looked at the first glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties."

While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great town until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled along with a country hedge upon either side of us. Just as he finished, however, we drove through two scattered villages, where a few  still glimmered in the windows.

"We are on the outskirts of Lee," said my companion. "We have touched on three English counties in our short drive, starting in Middlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. See that light among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already, I have little doubt, caught the clink of our horse's feet."

"But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?" I asked.

"Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for my friend and colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have no news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!"

We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse's head, and springing down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding gravel-drive which led to the house. As we approached, the door flew open, and a little blonde woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort of light mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with her figure outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon the door, one half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her head and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing question.

"Well?" she cried, "well?" And then, seeing that there were two of us, she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw that my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.

"No good news?"

"None."

"No bad?"

"No."

"Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have had a long day."

"This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to me in several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it possible for me to bring him out and associate him with this investigation."

"I am delighted to see you," said she, pressing my hand warmly. "You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so suddenly upon us."

"My dear madam," said I, "I am an old campaigner, and if I were not I can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of any assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be indeed happy."

"Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the lady as we entered a well-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had been laid out, "I should very much like to ask you one or two plain questions, to which I beg that you will give a plain answer."

"Certainly, madam."

"Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given to fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion."

"Upon what point?"

"In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?"

Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. "Frankly, now!" she repeated, standing upon the rug and looking keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket-chair.

"Frankly, then, madam, I do not."

"You think that he is dead?"

"I do."

"Murdered?"

"I don't say that. Perhaps."

"And on what day did he meet his death?"

"On Monday."

"Then perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how it is that I have received a letter from him to-day."

Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been galvanised.

"What!" he roared.

"Yes, to-day." She stood smiling, holding up a little slip of paper in the air.

"May I see it?"

"Certainly."

He snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out upon the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently. I had left my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend postmark and with the date of that very day, or rather of the day before, for it was considerably after midnight.

"Coarse writing," murmured Holmes. "Surely this is not your husband's writing, madam."

"No, but the enclosure is."

"I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go and inquire as to the address."

"How can you tell that?"

"The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried itself. The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that blotting-paper has been used. If it had been written straight off, and then blotted, none would be of a deep black shade. This man has written the name, and there has then been a pause before he wrote the address, which can only mean that he was not familiar with it. It is, of course, a trifle, but there is nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha! there has been an enclosure here!"

"Yes, there was a ring. His signet-ring."

"And you are sure that this is your husband's hand?"

"One of his hands."

"One?"

"His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual writing, and yet I know it well."

" 'Dearest do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a huge error which it may take some little time to rectify. Wait in patience.--NEVILLE.' Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf of a book, octavo size, no water-mark. Hum! Posted to-day in Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. Ha! And the flap has been gummed, if I am not very much in error, by a person who had been chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt that it is your husband's hand, madam?"

"None. Neville wrote those words."

"And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, the clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that the danger is over."

"But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes."

"Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. The ring, after all, proves nothing. It may have been taken from him."

"No, no; it is, it is his very own writing!"

"Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only posted to-day."

"That is possible."

"If so, much may have happened between."

"Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is well with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I should know if evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him last he cut himself in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that something had happened. Do you think that I would respond to such a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?"

"I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may be more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner. And in this letter you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence to corroborate your view. But if your husband is alive and able to write letters, why should he remain away from you?"

"I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable."

"And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you?"

"No."

"And you were surprised to see him in Swandam Lane?"

"Very much so."

"Was the window open?"

"Yes."

"Then he might have called to you?"

"He might."

"He only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?"

"Yes."

"A call for help, you thought?"

"Yes. He waved his hands."

"But it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at the unexpected sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands?"

"It is possible."

"And you thought he was pulled back?"

"He disappeared so suddenly."

"He might have leaped back. You did not see anyone else in the room?"

"No, but this horrible man confessed to having been there, and the Lascar was at the foot of the stairs."

"Quite so. Your husband, as far as you could see, had his ordinary clothes on?"

"But without his collar or tie. I distinctly saw his bare throat."

"Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?"

"Never."

"Had he ever showed any signs of having taken opium?"

"Never."

"Thank you, Mrs. St. Clair. Those are the principal points about which I wished to be absolutely clear. We shall now have a little supper and then retire, for we may have a very busy day to-morrow."

A large and comfortable double-bedded room had been placed at our disposal, and I was quickly between the sheets, for I was weary after my night of adventure. Sherlock Holmes was a man, however, who, when he had an unsolved problem upon his mind, would go for days, and even for a week, without rest, turning it over, rearranging his facts, looking at it from every point of view until he had either fathomed it or convinced himself that his data were insufficient. It was soon evident to me that he was now preparing for an all-night sitting. He took off his coat and waistcoat, put on a large blue dressing-gown, and then wandered about the room collecting pillows from his bed and cushions from the sofa and armchairs. With these he constructed a sort of Eastern divan, upon which he perched himself cross-legged, with an ounce of shag tobacco and a box of matches laid out in front of him. In the dim light of the lamp I saw him sitting there, an old briar pipe between his lips, his eyes fixed vacantly upon the corner of the ceiling, the blue smoke curling up from him, silent, motionless, with the light shining upon his strong-set aquiline features. So he sat as I dropped off to sleep, and so he sat when a sudden ejaculation caused me to wake up, and I found the summer sun shining into the apartment. The pipe was still between his lips, the smoke still curled upward, and the room was full of a dense tobacco haze, but nothing remained of the heap of shag which I had seen upon the previous night.

"Awake, Watson?" he asked.

"Yes."

"Game for a morning drive?"

"Certainly."

"Then dress. No one is stirring yet, but I know where the stable-boy sleeps, and we shall soon have the trap out." He chuckled to himself as he spoke, his eyes twinkled, and he seemed a different man to the sombre thinker of the previous night.

As I dressed I glanced at my watch. It was no wonder that no one was stirring. It was twenty-five minutes past four. I had hardly finished when Holmes returned with the news that the boy was putting in the horse.

"I want to test a little theory of mine," said he, pulling on his boots. "I think, Watson, that you are now standing in the presence of one of the most absolute fools in Europe. I deserve to be kicked from here to Charing Cross. But I think I have the key of the affair now."

"And where is it?" I asked, smiling.

"In the bathroom," he answered. "Oh, yes, I am not joking," he continued, seeing my look of incredulity. "I have just been there, and I have taken it out, and I have got it in this Gladstone bag. Come on, my boy, and we shall see whether it will not fit the lock."

We made our way downstairs as quietly as possible, and out into the bright morning sunshine. In the road stood our horse and trap, with the half-clad stable-boy waiting at the head. We both sprang in, and away we dashed down the London Road. A few country carts were stirring, bearing in vegetables to the metropolis, but the lines of villas on either side were as silent and lifeless as some city in a dream.

"It has been in some points a singular case," said Holmes, flicking the horse on into a gallop. "I confess that I have been as blind as a mole, but it is better to learn wisdom late than never to learn it at all."

In town the earliest risers were just beginning to look sleepily from their windows as we drove through the streets of the Surrey side. Passing down the Waterloo Bridge Road we crossed over the river, and dashing up Wellington Street wheeled sharply to the right and found ourselves in Bow Street. Sherlock Holmes was well known to the force, and the two constables at the door saluted him. One of them held the horse's head while the other led us in.

"Who is on duty?" asked Holmes.

"Inspector Bradstreet, sir."

"Ah, Bradstreet, how are you?" A tall, stout official had come down the stone-flagged passage, in a peaked cap and frogged jacket. "I wish to have a quiet word with you, Bradstreet." "Certainly, Mr. Holmes. Step into my room here." It was a small, office-like room, with a huge ledger upon the table, and a telephone projecting from the wall. The inspector sat down at his desk.

"What can I do for you, Mr. Holmes?"

"I called about that beggarman, Boone--the one who was charged with being concerned in the disappearance of Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee."

"Yes. He was brought up and remanded for further inquiries."

"So I heard. You have him here?"

"In the cells."

"Is he quiet?"

"Oh, he gives no trouble. But he is a dirty scoundrel."

"Dirty?"

"Yes, it is all we can do to make him wash his hands, and his face is as black as a tinker's. Well, when once his case has been settled, he will have a regular prison bath; and I think, if you saw him, you would agree with me that he needed it."

"I should like to see him very much."

"Would you? That is easily done. Come this way. You can leave your bag."

"No, I think that I'll take it."

"Very good. Come this way, if you please." He led us down a passage, opened a barred door, passed down a winding stair, and brought us to a whitewashed corridor with a line of doors on each side.

"The third on the right is his," said the inspector. "Here it is!" He quietly shot back a panel in the upper part of the door and glanced through.

"He is asleep," said he. "You can see him very well."

We both put our eyes to the grating. The prisoner lay with his face towards us, in a very deep sleep, breathing slowly and heavily. He was a middle-sized man, coarsely clad as became his calling, with a coloured shirt protruding through the rent in his tattered coat. He was, as the inspector had said, extremely dirty, but the grime which covered his face could not conceal its repulsive ugliness. A broad wheal from an old scar ran right across it from eye to chin, and by its contraction had turned up one side of the upper lip, so that three teeth were exposed in a perpetual snarl. A shock of very bright red hair grew low over his eyes and forehead.

"He's a beauty, isn't he?" said the inspector.

"He certainly needs a wash," remarked Holmes. "I had an idea that he might, and I took the liberty of bringing the tools with me." He opened the Gladstone bag as he spoke, and took out, to my astonishment, a very large bath-sponge.

"He! he! You are a funny one," chuckled the inspector.

"Now, if you will have the great goodness to open that door very quietly, we will soon make him cut a much more respectable figure."

"Well, I don't know why not," said the inspector. "He doesn't look a credit to the Bow Street cells, does he?" He slipped his key into the lock, and we all very quietly entered the cell. The sleeper half turned, and then settled down once more into a deep slumber. Holmes stooped to the water-jug, moistened his sponge, and then rubbed it twice vigorously across and down the prisoner's face.

"Let me introduce you," he shouted, "to Mr. Neville St. Clair, of Lee, in the county of Kent."

Never in my life have I seen such a sight. The man's face peeled off under the sponge like the bark from a tree. Gone was the coarse brown tint! Gone, too, was the horrid scar which had seamed it across, and the twisted lip which had given the repulsive sneer to the face! A twitch brought away the tangled red hair, and there, sitting up in his bed, was a pale, sad-faced, refined-looking man, black-haired and smooth-skinned, rubbing his eyes and staring about him with sleepy bewilderment. Then suddenly realising the exposure, he broke into a scream and threw himself down with his face to the pillow.

"Great heavens!" cried the inspector, "it is, indeed, the missing man. I know him from the photograph."

The prisoner turned with the reckless air of a man who abandons himself to his destiny. "Be it so," said he. "And pray what am I charged with?"

"With making away with Mr. Neville St.-- Oh, come, you can't be charged with that unless they make a case of attempted suicide of it," said the inspector with a grin. "Well, I have been twenty-seven years in the force, but this really takes the cake."

"If I am Mr. Neville St. Clair, then it is obvious that no crime has been committed, and that, therefore, I am illegally detained."

"No crime, but a very great error has been committed," said Holmes. "You would have done better to have trusted you wife."

"It was not the wife; it was the children," groaned the prisoner. "God help me, I would not have them ashamed of their father. My God! What an exposure! What can I do?"

Sherlock Holmes sat down beside him on the couch and patted him kindly on the shoulder.

"If you leave it to a court of law to clear the matter up," said he, "of course you can hardly avoid publicity. On the other hand, if you convince the police authorities that there is no possible case against you, I do not know that there is any reason that the details should find their way into the papers. Inspector Bradstreet would, I am sure, make notes upon anything which you might tell us and submit it to the proper authorities. The case would then never go into court at all."

"God bless you!" cried the prisoner passionately. "I would have endured imprisonment, ay, even execution, rather than have left my miserable secret as a family blot to my children.

"You are the first who have ever heard my story. My father was a schoolmaster in Chesterfield, where I received an excellent education. I travelled in my youth, took to the stage, and finally became a reporter on an evening paper in London. One day my editor wished to have a series of articles upon begging in the metropolis, and I volunteered to supply them. There was the point from which all my adventures started. It was only by trying begging as an amateur that I could get the facts upon which to base my articles. When an actor I had, of course, learned all the secrets of making up, and had been famous in the green-room for my skill. I took advantage now of my attainments. I painted my face, and to make myself as pitiable as possible I made a good scar and fixed one side of my lip in a twist by the aid of a small slip of flesh-coloured plaster. Then with a red head of hair, and an appropriate dress, I took my station in the business part of the city, ostensibly as a match-seller but really as a beggar. For seven hours I plied my trade, and when I returned home in the evening I found to my surprise that I had received no less than 26s. 4d.

"I wrote my articles and thought little more of the matter until, some time later, I backed a bill for a friend and had a writ served upon me for $25. I was at my wit's end where to get the money, but a sudden idea came to me. I begged a fortnight's grace from the creditor, asked for a holiday from my employers, and spent the time in begging in the City under my disguise. In ten days I had the money and had paid the debt.

"Well, you can imagine how hard it was to settle down to arduous work at $2 a week when I knew that I could earn as much in a day by smearing my face with a little paint, laying my cap on the ground, and sitting still. It was a long fight between my pride and the money, but the dollars won at last, and I threw up reporting and sat day after day in the corner which I had first chosen, inspiring pity by my ghastly face and filling my pockets with coppers. Only one man knew my secret. He was the keeper of a low den in which I used to lodge in Swandam Lane, where I could every morning emerge as a squalid beggar and in the evenings transform myself into a well-dressed man about town. This fellow, a Lascar, was well paid by me for his rooms, so that I knew that my secret was safe in his possession.

"Well, very soon I found that I was saving considerable sums of money. I do not mean that any beggar in the streets of London could earn $700 a year--which is less than my average takings--but I had exceptional advantages in my power of making up, and also in a facility of repartee, which improved by practice and made me quite a recognised character in the City. All day a stream of pennies, varied by silver, poured in upon me, and it was a very bad day in which I failed to take $2.

"As I grew richer I grew more ambitious, took a house in the country, and eventually married, without anyone having a suspicion as to my real occupation. My dear wife knew that I had business in the City. She little knew what.

"Last Monday I had finished for the day and was dressing in my room above the opium den when I looked out of my window and saw, to my horror and astonishment, that my wife was standing in the street, with her eyes fixed full upon me. I gave a cry of surprise, threw up my arms to cover my face, and, rushing to my confidant, the Lascar, entreated him to prevent anyone from coming up to me. I heard her voice downstairs, but I knew that she could not ascend. Swiftly I threw off my clothes, pulled on those of a beggar, and put on my pigments and wig. Even a wife's eyes could not pierce so complete a disguise. But then it occurred to me that there might be a search in the room, and that the clothes might betray me. I threw open the window, reopening by my violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in the bedroom that morning. Then I seized my coat, which was weighted by the coppers which I had just transferred to it from the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I hurled it out of the window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other clothes would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of constables up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, I confess, to my relief, that instead of being identified as Mr. Neville St. Clair, I was arrested as his murderer.

"I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I was determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and hence my preference for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would be terribly anxious, I slipped off my ring and confided it to the Lascar at a moment when no constable was watching me, together with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had no cause to fear."

"That note only reached her yesterday," said Holmes.

"Good God! What a week she must have spent!"

"The police have watched this Lascar," said Inspector Bradstreet, "and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to post a letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor customer of his, who forgot all about it for some days."

"That was it," said Holmes, nodding approvingly; "I have no doubt of it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?"

"Many times; but what was a fine to me?"

"It must stop here, however," said Bradstreet. "If the police are to hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone."

"I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take."

"In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may be taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. I am sure, Mr. Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for having cleared the matter up. I wish I knew how you reach your results."

"I reached this one," said my friend, "by sitting upon five pillows and consuming an ounce of shag. I think, Watson, that if we drive to Baker Street we shall just be in time for breakfast."

VII.  THE ADVENTURE OF THE BLUE CARBUNCLE


I had called upon my friend Sherlock Holmes upon the second morning after Christmas, with the intention of wishing him the compliments of the season. He was lounging upon the sofa in a purple dressing-gown, a pipe-rack within his reach upon the right, and a pile of crumpled morning papers, evidently newly studied, near at hand. Beside the couch was a wooden chair, and on the angle of the back hung a very seedy and disreputable hard-felt hat, much the worse for wear, and cracked in several places. A lens and a forceps lying upon the seat of the chair suggested that the hat had been suspended in this manner for the purpose of examination.

"You are engaged," said I; "perhaps I interrupt you."

"Not at all. I am glad to have a friend with whom I can discuss my results. The matter is a perfectly trivial one"--he jerked his thumb in the direction of the old hat--"but there are points in connection with it which are not entirely devoid of interest and even of instruction."

I seated myself in his armchair and warmed my hands before his crackling fire, for a sharp frost had set in, and the windows were thick with the ice crystals. "I suppose," I remarked, "that, homely as it looks, this thing has some deadly story linked on to it--that it is the clue which will guide you in the solution of some mystery and the punishment of some crime."

"No, no. No crime," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "Only one of those whimsical little incidents which will happen when you have four million human beings all jostling each other within the space of a few square miles. Amid the action and reaction of so dense a swarm of humanity, every possible combination of events may be expected to take place, and many a little problem will be presented which may be striking and bizarre without being criminal. We have already had experience of such."

"So much so," I remarked, "that of the last six cases which I have added to my notes, three have been entirely free of any legal crime."

"Precisely. You allude to my attempt to recover the Irene Adler papers, to the singular case of Miss Mary Sutherland, and to the adventure of the man with the twisted lip. Well, I have no doubt that this small matter will fall into the same innocent category. You know Peterson, the commissionaire?"

"Yes."

"It is to him that this trophy belongs."

"It is his hat."

"No, no, he found it. Its owner is unknown. I beg that you will look upon it not as a battered billycock but as an intellectual problem. And, first, as to how it came here. It arrived upon Christmas morning, in company with a good fat goose, which is, I have no doubt, roasting at this moment in front of Peterson's fire. The facts are these: about four o'clock on Christmas morning, Peterson, who, as you know, is a very honest fellow, was returning from some small jollification and was making his way homeward down Tottenham Court Road. In front of him he saw, in the gaslight, a tallish man, walking with a slight stagger, and carrying a white goose slung over his shoulder. As he reached the corner of Goodge Street, a row broke out between this stranger and a little knot of roughs. One of the latter knocked off the man's hat, on which he raised his stick to defend himself and, swinging it over his head, smashed the shop window behind him. Peterson had rushed forward to protect the stranger from his assailants; but the man, shocked at having broken the window, and seeing an official-looking person in uniform rushing towards him, dropped his goose, took to his heels, and vanished amid the labyrinth of small streets which lie at the back of Tottenham Court Road. The roughs had also fled at the appearance of Peterson, so that he was left in possession of the field of battle, and also of the spoils of victory in the shape of this battered hat and a most unimpeachable Christmas goose."

"Which surely he restored to their owner?"

"My dear fellow, there lies the problem. It is true that 'For Mrs. Henry Baker' was printed upon a small card which was tied to the bird's left leg, and it is also true that the initials 'H. B.' are legible upon the lining of this hat, but as there are some thousands of Bakers, and some hundreds of Henry Bakers in this city of ours, it is not easy to restore lost property to any one of them."

"What, then, did Peterson do?"

"He brought round both hat and goose to me on Christmas morning, knowing that even the smallest problems are of interest to me. The goose we retained until this morning, when there were signs that, in spite of the slight frost, it would be well that it should be eaten without unnecessary delay. Its finder has carried it off, therefore, to fulfil the ultimate destiny of a goose, while I continue to retain the hat of the unknown gentleman who lost his Christmas dinner."

"Did he not advertise?"

"No."

"Then, what clue could you have as to his identity?"

"Only as much as we can deduce."

"From his hat?"

"Precisely."

"But you are joking. What can you gather from this old battered felt?"

"Here is my lens. You know my methods. What can you gather yourself as to the individuality of the man who has worn this article?"

I took the tattered object in my hands and turned it over rather ruefully. It was a very ordinary black hat of the usual round shape, hard and much the worse for wear. The lining had been of red silk, but was a good deal discoloured. There was no maker's name; but, as Holmes had remarked, the initials "H. B." were scrawled upon one side. It was pierced in the brim for a hat-securer, but the elastic was missing. For the rest, it was cracked, exceedingly dusty, and spotted in several places, although there seemed to have been some attempt to hide the discoloured patches by smearing them with ink.

"I can see nothing," said I, handing it back to my friend.

"On the contrary, Watson, you can see everything. You fail, however, to reason from what you see. You are too timid in drawing your inferences."

"Then, pray tell me what it is that you can infer from this hat?"

He picked it up and gazed at it in the peculiar introspective fashion which was characteristic of him. "It is perhaps less suggestive than it might have been," he remarked, "and yet there are a few inferences which are very distinct, and a few others which represent at least a strong balance of probability. That the man was highly intellectual is of course obvious upon the face of it, and also that he was fairly well-to-do within the last three years, although he has now fallen upon evil days. He had foresight, but has less now than formerly, pointing to a moral retrogression, which, when taken with the decline of his fortunes, seems to indicate some evil influence, probably drink, at work upon him. This may account also for the obvious fact that his wife has ceased to love him."

"My dear Holmes!"

"He has, however, retained some degree of self-respect," he continued, disregarding my remonstrance. "He is a man who leads a sedentary life, goes out little, is out of training entirely, is middle-aged, has grizzled hair which he has had cut within the last few days, and which he anoints with lime-cream. These are the more patent facts which are to be deduced from his hat. Also, by the way, that it is extremely improbable that he has gas laid on in his house."

"You are certainly joking, Holmes."

"Not in the least. Is it possible that even now, when I give you these results, you are unable to see how they are attained?"

"I have no doubt that I am very stupid, but I must confess that I am unable to follow you. For example, how did you deduce that this man was intellectual?"

For answer Holmes clapped the hat upon his head. It came right over the forehead and settled upon the bridge of his nose. "It is a question of cubic capacity," said he; "a man with so large a brain must have something in it."

"The decline of his fortunes, then?"

"This hat is three years old. These flat brims curled at the edge came in then. It is a hat of the very best quality. Look at the band of ribbed silk and the excellent lining. If this man could afford to buy so expensive a hat three years ago, and has had no hat since, then he has assuredly gone down in the world."

"Well, that is clear enough, certainly. But how about the foresight and the moral retrogression?"

Sherlock Holmes laughed. "Here is the foresight," said he putting his finger upon the little disc and loop of the hat-securer. "They are never sold upon hats. If this man ordered one, it is a sign of a certain amount of foresight, since he went out of his way to take this precaution against the wind. But since we see that he has broken the elastic and has not troubled to replace it, it is obvious that he has less foresight now than formerly, which is a distinct proof of a weakening nature. On the other hand, he has endeavoured to conceal some of these stains upon the felt by daubing them with ink, which is a sign that he has not entirely lost his self-respect."

"Your reasoning is certainly plausible."

"The further points, that he is middle-aged, that his hair is grizzled, that it has been recently cut, and that he uses lime-cream, are all to be gathered from a close examination of the lower part of the lining. The lens discloses a large number of hair-ends, clean cut by the scissors of the barber. They all appear to be adhesive, and there is a distinct odour of lime-cream. This dust, you will observe, is not the gritty, grey dust of the street but the fluffy brown dust of the house, showing that it has been hung up indoors most of the time, while the marks of moisture upon the inside are proof positive that the wearer perspired very freely, and could therefore, hardly be in the best of training."

"But his wife--you said that she had ceased to love him."

"This hat has not been brushed for weeks. When I see you, my dear Watson, with a week's accumulation of dust upon your hat, and when your wife allows you to go out in such a state, I shall fear that you also have been unfortunate enough to lose your wife's affection."

"But he might be a bachelor."

"Nay, he was bringing home the goose as a peace-offering to his wife. Remember the card upon the bird's leg."

"You have an answer to everything. But how on earth do you deduce that the gas is not laid on in his house?"

"One tallow stain, or even two, might come by chance; but when I see no less than five, I think that there can be little doubt that the individual must be brought into frequent contact with burning tallow--walks upstairs at night probably with his hat in one hand and a guttering candle in the other. Anyhow, he never got tallow-stains from a gas-jet. Are you satisfied?"

"Well, it is very ingenious," said I, laughing; "but since, as you said just now, there has been no crime committed, and no harm done save the loss of a goose, all this seems to be rather a waste of energy."

Sherlock Holmes had opened his mouth to reply, when the door flew open, and Peterson, the commissionaire, rushed into the apartment with flushed cheeks and the face of a man who is dazed with astonishment.

"The goose, Mr. Holmes! The goose, sir!" he gasped.

"Eh? What of it, then? Has it returned to life and flapped off through the kitchen window?" Holmes twisted himself round upon the sofa to get a fairer view of the man's excited face.

"See here, sir! See what my wife found in its crop!" He held out his hand and displayed upon the centre of the palm a brilliantly scintillating blue stone, rather smaller than a bean in size, but of such purity and radiance that it twinkled like an electric point in the dark hollow of his hand.

Sherlock Holmes sat up with a whistle. "By Jove, Peterson!" said he, "this is treasure trove indeed. I suppose you know what you have got?"

"A diamond, sir? A precious stone. It cuts into glass as though it were putty."

"It's more than a precious stone. It is the precious stone."

"Not the Countess of Morcar's blue carbuncle!" I ejaculated.

"Precisely so. I ought to know its size and shape, seeing that I have read the advertisement about it in The Times every day lately. It is absolutely unique, and its value can only be conjectured, but the reward offered of $1000 is certainly not within a twentieth part of the market price."

"A thousand pounds! Great Lord of mercy!" The commissionaire plumped down into a chair and stared from one to the other of us.

"That is the reward, and I have reason to know that there are sentimental considerations in the background which would induce the Countess to part with half her fortune if she could but recover the gem."

"It was lost, if I remember aright, at the Hotel Cosmopolitan," I remarked.

"Precisely so, on December 22nd, just five days ago. John Horner, a plumber, was accused of having abstracted it from the lady's jewel-case. The evidence against him was so strong that the case has been referred to the Assizes. I have some account of the matter here, I believe." He rummaged amid his newspapers, glancing over the dates, until at last he smoothed one out, doubled it over, and read the following paragraph:

"Hotel Cosmopolitan Jewel Robbery. John Horner, 26, plumber, was brought up upon the charge of having upon the 22nd inst., abstracted from the jewel-case of the Countess of Morcar the valuable gem known as the blue carbuncle. James Ryder, upper-attendant at the hotel, gave his evidence to the effect that he had shown Horner up to the dressing-room of the Countess of Morcar upon the day of the robbery in order that he might solder the second bar of the grate, which was loose. He had remained with Horner some little time, but had finally been called away. On returning, he found that Horner had disappeared, that the bureau had been forced open, and that the small morocco casket in which, as it afterwards transpired, the Countess was accustomed to keep her jewel, was lying empty upon the dressing-table. Ryder instantly gave the alarm, and Horner was arrested the same evening; but the stone could not be found either upon his person or in his rooms. Catherine Cusack, maid to the Countess, deposed to having heard Ryder's cry of dismay on discovering the robbery, and to having rushed into the room, where she found matters as described by the last witness. Inspector Bradstreet, B division, gave evidence as to the arrest of Horner, who struggled frantically, and protested his innocence in the strongest terms. Evidence of a previous conviction for robbery having been given against the prisoner, the magistrate refused to deal summarily with the offence, but referred it to the Assizes. Horner, who had shown signs of intense emotion during the proceedings, fainted away at the conclusion and was carried out of court."

"Hum! So much for the police-court," said Holmes thoughtfully, tossing aside the paper. "The question for us now to solve is the sequence of events leading from a rifled jewel-case at one end to the crop of a goose in Tottenham Court Road at the other. You see, Watson, our little deductions have suddenly assumed a much more important and less innocent aspect. Here is the stone; the stone came from the goose, and the goose came from Mr. Henry Baker, the gentleman with the bad hat and all the other characteristics with which I have bored you. So now we must set ourselves very seriously to finding this gentleman and ascertaining what part he has played in this little mystery. To do this, we must try the simplest means first, and these lie undoubtedly in an advertisement in all the evening papers. If this fail, I shall have recourse to other methods."

"What will you say?"

"Give me a pencil and that slip of paper. Now, then: 'Found at the corner of Goodge Street, a goose and a black felt hat. Mr. Henry Baker can have the same by applying at 6:30 this evening at 221B, Baker Street.' That is clear and concise."

"Very. But will he see it?"

"Well, he is sure to keep an eye on the papers, since, to a poor man, the loss was a heavy one. He was clearly so scared by his mischance in breaking the window and by the approach of Peterson that he thought of nothing but flight, but since then he must have bitterly regretted the impulse which caused him to drop his bird. Then, again, the introduction of his name will cause him to see it, for everyone who knows him will direct his attention to it. Here you are, Peterson, run down to the advertising agency and have this put in the evening papers."

"In which, sir?"

"Oh, in the Globe, Star, Pall Mall, St. James's, Evening News, Standard, Echo, and any others that occur to you."

"Very well, sir. And this stone?"

"Ah, yes, I shall keep the stone. Thank you. And, I say, Peterson, just buy a goose on your way back and leave it here with me, for we must have one to give to this gentleman in place of the one which your family is now devouring."

When the commissionaire had gone, Holmes took up the stone and held it against the light. "It's a bonny thing," said he. "Just see how it glints and sparkles. Of course it is a nucleus and focus of crime. Every good stone is. They are the devil's pet baits. In the larger and older jewels every facet may stand for a bloody deed. This stone is not yet twenty years old. It was found in the banks of the Amoy River in southern China and is remarkable in having every characteristic of the carbuncle, save that it is blue in shade instead of ruby red. In spite of its youth, it has already a sinister history. There have been two murders, a vitriol-throwing, a suicide, and several robberies brought about for the sake of this forty-grain weight of crystallised charcoal. Who would think that so pretty a toy would be a purveyor to the gallows and the prison? I'll lock it up in my strong box now and drop a line to the Countess to say that we have it."

"Do you think that this man Horner is innocent?"

"I cannot tell."

"Well, then, do you imagine that this other one, Henry Baker, had anything to do with the matter?"

"It is, I think, much more likely that Henry Baker is an absolutely innocent man, who had no idea that the bird which he was carrying was of considerably more value than if it were made of solid gold. That, however, I shall determine by a very simple test if we have an answer to our advertisement."

"And you can do nothing until then?"

"Nothing."

"In that case I shall continue my professional round. But I shall come back in the evening at the hour you have mentioned, for I should like to see the solution of so tangled a business."

"Very glad to see you. I dine at seven. There is a woodcock, I believe. By the way, in view of recent occurrences, perhaps I ought to ask Mrs. Hudson to examine its crop."

I had been delayed at a case, and it was a little after half-past six when I found myself in Baker Street once more. As I approached the house I saw a tall man in a Scotch bonnet with a coat which was buttoned up to his chin waiting outside in the bright semicircle which was thrown from the fanlight. Just as I arrived the door was opened, and we were shown up together to Holmes' room.

"Mr. Henry Baker, I believe," said he, rising from his armchair and greeting his visitor with the easy air of geniality which he could so readily assume. "Pray take this chair by the fire, Mr. Baker. It is a cold night, and I observe that your circulation is more adapted for summer than for winter. Ah, Watson, you have just come at the right time. Is that your hat, Mr. Baker?"

"Yes, sir, that is undoubtedly my hat."

He was a large man with rounded shoulders, a massive head, and a broad, intelligent face, sloping down to a pointed beard of grizzled brown. A touch of red in nose and cheeks, with a slight tremor of his extended hand, recalled Holmes' surmise as to his habits. His rusty black frock-coat was buttoned right up in front, with the collar turned up, and his lank wrists protruded from his sleeves without a sign of cuff or shirt. He spoke in a slow staccato fashion, choosing his words with care, and gave the impression generally of a man of learning and letters who had had ill-usage at the hands of fortune.

"We have retained these things for some days," said Holmes, "because we expected to see an advertisement from you giving your address. I am at a loss to know now why you did not advertise."

Our visitor gave a rather shamefaced laugh. "Shillings have not been so plentiful with me as they once were," he remarked. "I had no doubt that the gang of roughs who assaulted me had carried off both my hat and the bird. I did not care to spend more money in a hopeless attempt at recovering them."

"Very naturally. By the way, about the bird, we were compelled to eat it."

"To eat it!" Our visitor half rose from his chair in his excitement.

"Yes, it would have been of no use to anyone had we not done so. But I presume that this other goose upon the sideboard, which is about the same weight and perfectly fresh, will answer your purpose equally well?"

"Oh, certainly, certainly," answered Mr. Baker with a sigh of relief.

"Of course, we still have the feathers, legs, crop, and so on of your own bird, so if you wish--"

The man burst into a hearty laugh. "They might be useful to me as relics of my adventure," said he, "but beyond that I can hardly see what use the disjecta membra of my late acquaintance are going to be to me. No, sir, I think that, with your permission, I will confine my attentions to the excellent bird which I perceive upon the sideboard."

Sherlock Holmes glanced sharply across at me with a slight shrug of his shoulders.

"There is your hat, then, and there your bird," said he. "By the way, would it bore you to tell me where you got the other one from? I am somewhat of a fowl fancier, and I have seldom seen a better grown goose."

"Certainly, sir," said Baker, who had risen and tucked his newly gained property under his arm. "There are a few of us who frequent the Alpha Inn, near the Museum--we are to be found in the Museum itself during the day, you understand. This year our good host, Windigate by name, instituted a goose club, by which, on consideration of some few pence every week, we were each to receive a bird at Christmas. My pence were duly paid, and the rest is familiar to you. I am much indebted to you, sir, for a Scotch bonnet is fitted neither to my years nor my gravity." With a comical pomposity of manner he bowed solemnly to both of us and strode off upon his way.

"So much for Mr. Henry Baker," said Holmes when he had closed the door behind him. "It is quite certain that he knows nothing whatever about the matter. Are you hungry, Watson?"

"Not particularly."

"Then I suggest that we turn our dinner into a supper and follow up this clue while it is still hot."

"By all means."

It was a bitter night, so we drew on our ulsters and wrapped cravats about our throats. Outside, the stars were shining coldly in a cloudless sky, and the breath of the passers-by blew out into smoke like so many pistol shots. Our footfalls rang out crisply and loudly as we swung through the doctors' quarter, Wimpole Street, Harley Street, and so through Wigmore Street into Oxford Street. In a quarter of an hour we were in Bloomsbury at the Alpha Inn, which is a small public-house at the corner of one of the streets which runs down into Holborn. Holmes pushed open the door of the private bar and ordered two glasses of beer from the ruddy-faced, white-aproned landlord.

"Your beer should be excellent if it is as good as your geese," said he.

"My geese!" The man seemed surprised.

"Yes. I was speaking only half an hour ago to Mr. Henry Baker, who was a member of your goose club."

"Ah! yes, I see. But you see, sir, them's not our geese."

"Indeed! Whose, then?"

"Well, I got the two dozen from a salesman in Covent Garden."

"Indeed? I know some of them. Which was it?"

"Breckinridge is his name."

"Ah! I don't know him. Well, here's your good health landlord, and prosperity to your house. Good-night."

"Now for Mr. Breckinridge," he continued, buttoning up his coat as we came out into the frosty air. "Remember, Watson that though we have so homely a thing as a goose at one end of this chain, we have at the other a man who will certainly get seven years' penal servitude unless we can establish his innocence. It is possible that our inquiry may but confirm his guilt; but, in any case, we have a line of investigation which has been missed by the police, and which a singular chance has placed in our hands. Let us follow it out to the bitter end. Faces to the south, then, and quick march!"

We passed across Holborn, down Endell Street, and so through a zigzag of slums to Covent Garden Market. One of the largest stalls bore the name of Breckinridge upon it, and the proprietor a horsey-looking man, with a sharp face and trim side-whiskers was helping a boy to put up the shutters.

"Good-evening. It's a cold night," said Holmes.

The salesman nodded and shot a questioning glance at my companion.

"Sold out of geese, I see," continued Holmes, pointing at the bare slabs of marble.

"Let you have five hundred to-morrow morning."

"That's no good."

"Well, there are some on the stall with the gas-flare."

"Ah, but I was recommended to you."

"Who by?"

"The landlord of the Alpha."

"Oh, yes; I sent him a couple of dozen."

"Fine birds they were, too. Now where did you get them from?"

To my surprise the question provoked a burst of anger from the salesman.

"Now, then, mister," said he, with his head cocked and his arms akimbo, "what are you driving at? Let's have it straight, now."

"It is straight enough. I should like to know who sold you the geese which you supplied to the Alpha."

"Well then, I shan't tell you. So now!"

"Oh, it is a matter of no importance; but I don't know why you should be so warm over such a trifle."

"Warm! You'd be as warm, maybe, if you were as pestered as I am. When I pay good money for a good article there should be an end of the business; but it's 'Where are the geese?' and 'Who did you sell the geese to?' and 'What will you take for the geese?' One would think they were the only geese in the world, to hear the fuss that is made over them."

"Well, I have no connection with any other people who have been making inquiries," said Holmes carelessly. "If you won't tell us the bet is off, that is all. But I'm always ready to back my opinion on a matter of fowls, and I have a fiver on it that the bird I ate is country bred."

"Well, then, you've lost your fiver, for it's town bred," snapped the salesman.

"It's nothing of the kind."

"I say it is."

"I don't believe it."

"D'you think you know more about fowls than I, who have handled them ever since I was a nipper? I tell you, all those birds that went to the Alpha were town bred."

"You'll never persuade me to believe that."

"Will you bet, then?"

"It's merely taking your money, for I know that I am right. But I'll have a sovereign on with you, just to teach you not to be obstinate."

The salesman chuckled grimly. "Bring me the books, Bill," said he.

The small boy brought round a small thin volume and a great greasy-backed one, laying them out together beneath the hanging lamp.

"Now then, Mr. Cocksure," said the salesman, "I thought that I was out of geese, but before I finish you'll find that there is still one left in my shop. You see this little book?"

"Well?"

"That's the list of the folk from whom I buy. D'you see? Well, then, here on this page are the country folk, and the numbers after their names are where their accounts are in the big ledger. Now, then! You see this other page in red ink? Well, that is a list of my town suppliers. Now, look at that third name. Just read it out to me."

"Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road--249," read Holmes.

"Quite so. Now turn that up in the ledger."

Holmes turned to the page indicated. "Here you are, 'Mrs. Oakshott, 117, Brixton Road, egg and poultry supplier.' "

"Now, then, what's the last entry?"

" 'December 22nd. Twenty-four geese at 7s. 6d.' "

"Quite so. There you are. And underneath?"

" 'Sold to Mr. Windigate of the Alpha, at 12s.' "

"What have you to say now?"

Sherlock Holmes looked deeply chagrined. He drew a sovereign from his pocket and threw it down upon the slab, turning away with the air of a man whose disgust is too deep for words. A few yards off he stopped under a lamp-post and laughed in the hearty, noiseless fashion which was peculiar to him.

"When you see a man with whiskers of that cut and the 'Pink 'un' protruding out of his pocket, you can always draw him by a bet," said he. "I daresay that if I had put $100 down in front of him, that man would not have given me such complete information as was drawn from him by the idea that he was doing me on a wager. Well, Watson, we are, I fancy, nearing the end of our quest, and the only point which remains to be determined is whether we should go on to this Mrs. Oakshott to-night, or whether we should reserve it for to-morrow. It is clear from what that surly fellow said that there are others besides ourselves who are anxious about the matter, and I should--"

His remarks were suddenly cut short by a loud hubbub which broke out from the stall which we had just left. Turning round we saw a little rat-faced fellow standing in the centre of the circle of yellow light which was thrown by the swinging lamp, while Breckinridge, the salesman, framed in the door of his stall, was shaking his fists fiercely at the cringing figure.

"I've had enough of you and your geese," he shouted. "I wish you were all at the devil together. If you come pestering me any more with your silly talk I'll set the dog at you. You bring Mrs. Oakshott here and I'll answer her, but what have you to do with it? Did I buy the geese off you?"

"No; but one of them was mine all the same," whined the little man.

"Well, then, ask Mrs. Oakshott for it."

"She told me to ask you."

"Well, you can ask the King of Proosia, for all I care. I've had enough of it. Get out of this!" He rushed fiercely forward, and the inquirer flitted away into the darkness.

"Ha! this may save us a visit to Brixton Road," whispered Holmes. "Come with me, and we will see what is to be made of this fellow." Striding through the scattered knots of people who lounged round the flaring stalls, my companion speedily overtook the little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He sprang round, and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of colour had been driven from his face.

"Who are you, then? What do you want?" he asked in a quavering voice.

"You will excuse me," said Holmes blandly, "but I could not help overhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now. I think that I could be of assistance to you."

"You? Who are you? How could you know anything of the matter?"

"My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know what other people don't know."

"But you can know nothing of this?"

"Excuse me, I know everything of it. You are endeavouring to trace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott, of Brixton Road, to a salesman named Breckinridge, by him in turn to Mr. Windigate, of the Alpha, and by him to his club, of which Mr. Henry Baker is a member."

"Oh, sir, you are the very man whom I have longed to meet," cried the little fellow with outstretched hands and quivering fingers. "I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in this matter."

Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. "In that case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than in this wind-swept market-place," said he. "But pray tell me, before we go farther, who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting."

The man hesitated for an instant. "My name is John Robinson," he answered with a sidelong glance.

"No, no; the real name," said Holmes sweetly. "It is always awkward doing business with an alias."

A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. "Well then," said he, "my real name is James Ryder."

"Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Pray step into the cab, and I shall soon be able to tell you everything which you would wish to know."

The little man stood glancing from one to the other of us with half-frightened, half-hopeful eyes, as one who is not sure whether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Then he stepped into the cab, and in half an hour we were back in the sitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during our drive, but the high, thin breathing of our new companion, and the claspings and unclaspings of his hands, spoke of the nervous tension within him.

"Here we are!" said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room. "The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold, Mr. Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippers before we settle this little matter of yours. Now, then! You want to know what became of those geese?"

"Yes, sir."

"Or rather, I fancy, of that goose. It was one bird, I imagine in which you were interested--white, with a black bar across the tail."

Ryder quivered with emotion. "Oh, sir," he cried, "can you tell me where it went to?"

"It came here."

"Here?"

"Yes, and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don't wonder that you should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead--the bonniest, brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have it here in my museum."

Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiece with his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and held up the blue carbuncle, which shone out like a star, with a cold, brilliant, many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a drawn face, uncertain whether to claim or to disown it.

"The game's up, Ryder," said Holmes quietly. "Hold up, man, or you'll be into the fire! Give him an arm back into his chair, Watson. He's not got blood enough to go in for felony with impunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So! Now he looks a little more human. What a shrimp it is, to be sure!"

For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen, but the brandy brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks, and he sat staring with frightened eyes at his accuser.

"I have almost every link in my hands, and all the proofs which I could possibly need, so there is little which you need tell me. Still, that little may as well be cleared up to make the case complete. You had heard, Ryder, of this blue stone of the Countess of Morcar's?"

"It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it," said he in a crackling voice.

"I see--her ladyship's waiting-maid. Well, the temptation of sudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you, as it has been for better men before you; but you were not very scrupulous in the means you used. It seems to me, Ryder, that there is the making of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that this man Horner, the plumber, had been concerned in some such matter before, and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him. What did you do, then? You made some small job in my lady's room--you and your confederate Cusack--and you managed that he should be the man sent for. Then, when he had left, you rifled the jewel-case, raised the alarm, and had this unfortunate man arrested. You then--"

Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutched at my companion's knees. "For God's sake, have mercy!" he shrieked. "Think of my father! Of my mother! It would break their hearts. I never went wrong before! I never will again. I swear it. I'll swear it on a Bible. Oh, don't bring it into court! For Christ's sake, don't!"

"Get back into your chair!" said Holmes sternly. "It is very well to cringe and crawl now, but you thought little enough of this poor Horner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing."

"I will fly, Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country, sir. Then the charge against him will break down."

"Hum! We will talk about that. And now let us hear a true account of the next act. How came the stone into the goose, and how came the goose into the open market? Tell us the truth, for there lies your only hope of safety."

Ryder passed his tongue over his parched lips. "I will tell you it just as it happened, sir," said he. "When Horner had been arrested, it seemed to me that it would be best for me to get away with the stone at once, for I did not know at what moment the police might not take it into their heads to search me and my room. There was no place about the hotel where it would be safe. I went out, as if on some commission, and I made for my sister's house. She had married a man named Oakshott, and lived in Brixton Road, where she fattened fowls for the market. All the way there every man I met seemed to me to be a policeman or a detective; and, for all that it was a cold night, the sweat was pouring down my face before I came to the Brixton Road. My sister asked me what was the matter, and why I was so pale; but I told her that I had been upset by the jewel robbery at the hotel. Then I went into the back yard and smoked a pipe and wondered what it would be best to do.

"I had a friend once called Maudsley, who went to the bad, and has just been serving his time in Pentonville. One day he had met me, and fell into talk about the ways of thieves, and how they could get rid of what they stole. I knew that he would be true to me, for I knew one or two things about him; so I made up my mind to go right on to Kilburn, where he lived, and take him into my confidence. He would show me how to turn the stone into money. But how to get to him in safety? I thought of the agonies I had gone through in coming from the hotel. I might at any moment be seized and searched, and there would be the stone in my waistcoat pocket. I was leaning against the wall at the time and looking at the geese which were waddling about round my feet, and suddenly an idea came into my head which showed me how I could beat the best detective that ever lived.

"My sister had told me some weeks before that I might have the pick of her geese for a Christmas present, and I knew that she was always as good as her word. I would take my goose now, and in it I would carry my stone to Kilburn. There was a little shed in the yard, and behind this I drove one of the birds--a fine big one, white, with a barred tail. I caught it, and prying its bill open, I thrust the stone down its throat as far as my finger could reach. The bird gave a gulp, and I felt the stone pass along its gullet and down into its crop. But the creature flapped and struggled, and out came my sister to know what was the matter. As I turned to speak to her the brute broke loose and fluttered off among the others.

" 'Whatever were you doing with that bird, Jem?' says she.

" 'Well,' said I, 'you said you'd give me one for Christmas, and I was feeling which was the fattest.'

" 'Oh,' says she, 'we've set yours aside for you--Jem's bird, we call it. It's the big white one over yonder. There's twenty-six of them, which makes one for you, and one for us, and two dozen for the market.'

" 'Thank you, Maggie,' says I; 'but if it is all the same to you, I'd rather have that one I was handling just now.'

" 'The other is a good three pound heavier,' said she, 'and we fattened it expressly for you.'

" 'Never mind. I'll have the other, and I'll take it now,' said I.

" 'Oh, just as you like,' said she, a little huffed. 'Which is it you want, then?'

" 'That white one with the barred tail, right in the middle of the flock.'

" 'Oh, very well. Kill it and take it with you.'

"Well, I did what she said, Mr. Holmes, and I carried the bird all the way to Kilburn. I told my pal what I had done, for he was a man that it was easy to tell a thing like that to. He laughed until he choked, and we got a knife and opened the goose. My heart turned to water, for there was no sign of the stone, and I knew that some terrible mistake had occurred. I left the bird, rushed back to my sister's, and hurried into the back yard. There was not a bird to be seen there.

" 'Where are they all, Maggie?' I cried.

" 'Gone to the dealer's, Jem.'

" 'Which dealer's?'

" 'Breckinridge, of Covent Garden.'

" 'But was there another with a barred tail?' I asked, 'the same as the one I chose?'

" 'Yes, Jem; there were two barred-tailed ones, and I could never tell them apart.'

"Well, then, of course I saw it all, and I ran off as hard as my feet would carry me to this man Breckinridge; but he had sold the lot at once, and not one word would he tell me as to where they had gone. You heard him yourselves to-night. Well, he has always answered me like that. My sister thinks that I am going mad. Sometimes I think that I am myself. And now--and now I am myself a branded thief, without ever having touched the wealth for which I sold my character. God help me! God help me!" He burst into convulsive sobbing, with his face buried in his hands.

There was a long silence, broken only by his heavy breathing and by the measured tapping of Sherlock Holmes' finger-tips upon the edge of the table. Then my friend rose and threw open the door.

"Get out!" said he.

"What, sir! Oh, Heaven bless you!"

"No more words. Get out!"

And no more words were needed. There was a rush, a clatter upon the stairs, the bang of a door, and the crisp rattle of running footfalls from the street.

"After all, Watson," said Holmes, reaching up his hand for his clay pipe, "I am not retained by the police to supply their deficiencies. If Horner were in danger it would be another thing; but this fellow will not appear against him, and the case must collapse. I suppose that I am commuting a felony, but it is just possible that I am saving a soul. This fellow will not go wrong again; he is too terribly frightened. Send him to gaol now, and you make him a gaol-bird for life. Besides, it is the season of forgiveness. Chance has put in our way a most singular and whimsical problem, and its solution is its own reward. If you will have the goodness to touch the bell, Doctor, we will begin another investigation, in which, also a bird will be the chief feature."

VIII.  THE ADVENTURE OF THE SPECKLED BAND


On glancing over my notes of the seventy odd cases in which I have during the last eight years studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation which did not tend towards the unusual, and even the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I have reasons to know that there are widespread rumours as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth.

It was early in April in the year '83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser, as a rule, and as the clock on the mantelpiece showed me that it was only a quarter-past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.

"Very sorry to knock you up, Watson," said he, "but it's the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up, she retorted upon me, and I on you."

"What is it, then--a fire?"

"No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it is something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it prove to be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and give you the chance."

"My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything."

I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions, and yet always founded on a logical basis with which he unravelled the problems which were submitted to him. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in a few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A lady dressed in black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as we entered.

"Good-morning, madam," said Holmes cheerily. "My name is Sherlock Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am glad to see that Mrs. Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire. Pray draw up to it, and I shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe that you are shivering."

"It is not cold which makes me shiver," said the woman in a low voice, changing her seat as requested.

"What, then?"

"It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror." She raised her veil as she spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of agitation, her face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, like those of some hunted animal. Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her hair was shot with premature grey, and her expression was weary and haggard. Sherlock Holmes ran her over with one of his quick, all-comprehensive glances.

"You must not fear," said he soothingly, bending forward and patting her forearm. "We shall soon set matters right, I have no doubt. You have come in by train this morning, I see."

"You know me, then?"

"No, but I observe the second half of a return ticket in the palm of your left glove. You must have started early, and yet you had a good drive in a dog-cart, along heavy roads, before you reached the station."

The lady gave a violent start and stared in bewilderment at my companion.

"There is no mystery, my dear madam," said he, smiling. "The left arm of your jacket is spattered with mud in no less than seven places. The marks are perfectly fresh. There is no vehicle save a dog-cart which throws up mud in that way, and then only when you sit on the left-hand side of the driver."

"Whatever your reasons may be, you are perfectly correct," said she. "I started from home before six, reached Leatherhead at twenty past, and came in by the first train to Waterloo. Sir, I can stand this strain no longer; I shall go mad if it continues. I have no one to turn to--none, save only one, who cares for me, and he, poor fellow, can be of little aid. I have heard of you, Mr. Holmes; I have heard of you from Mrs. Farintosh, whom you helped in the hour of her sore need. It was from her that I had your address. Oh, sir, do you not think that you could help me, too, and at least throw a little light through the dense darkness which surrounds me? At present it is out of my power to reward you for your services, but in a month or six weeks I shall be married, with the control of my own income, and then at least you shall not find me ungrateful."

Holmes turned to his desk and, unlocking it, drew out a small case-book, which he consulted.

"Farintosh," said he. "Ah yes, I recall the case; it was concerned with an opal tiara. I think it was before your time, Watson. I can only say, madam, that I shall be happy to devote the same care to your case as I did to that of your friend. As to reward, my profession is its own reward; but you are at liberty to defray whatever expenses I may be put to, at the time which suits you best. And now I beg that you will lay before us everything that may help us in forming an opinion upon the matter."

"Alas!" replied our visitor, "the very horror of my situation lies in the fact that my fears are so vague, and my suspicions depend so entirely upon small points, which might seem trivial to another, that even he to whom of all others I have a right to look for help and advice looks upon all that I tell him about it as the fancies of a nervous woman. He does not say so, but I can read it from his soothing answers and averted eyes. But I have heard, Mr. Holmes, that you can see deeply into the manifold wickedness of the human heart. You may advise me how to walk amid the dangers which encompass me."

"I am all attention, madam."

"My name is Helen Stoner, and I am living with my stepfather, who is the last survivor of one of the oldest Saxon families in England, the Roylotts of Stoke Moran, on the western border of Surrey."

Holmes nodded his head. "The name is familiar to me," said he.

"The family was at one time among the richest in England, and the estates extended over the borders into Berkshire in the north, and Hampshire in the west. In the last century, however, four successive heirs were of a dissolute and wasteful disposition, and the family ruin was eventually completed by a gambler in the days of the Regency. Nothing was left save a few acres of ground, and the two-hundred-year-old house, which is itself crushed under a heavy mortgage. The last squire dragged out his existence there, living the horrible life of an aristocratic pauper; but his only son, my stepfather, seeing that he must adapt himself to the new conditions, obtained an advance from a relative, which enabled him to take a medical degree and went out to Calcutta, where, by his professional skill and his force of character, he established a large practice. In a fit of anger, however, caused by some robberies which had been perpetrated in the house, he beat his native butler to death and narrowly escaped a capital sentence. As it was, he suffered a long term of imprisonment and afterwards returned to England a morose and disappointed man.

"When Dr. Roylott was in India he married my mother, Mrs. Stoner, the young widow of Major-General Stoner, of the Bengal Artillery. My sister Julia and I were twins, and we were only two years old at the time of my mother's re-marriage. She had a considerable sum of money--not less than $1000 a year--and this she bequeathed to Dr. Roylott entirely while we resided with him, with a provision that a certain annual sum should be allowed to each of us in the event of our marriage. Shortly after our return to England my mother died--she was killed eight years ago in a railway accident near Crewe. Dr. Roylott then abandoned his attempts to establish himself in practice in London and took us to live with him in the old ancestral house at Stoke Moran. The money which my mother had left was enough for all our wants, and there seemed to be no obstacle to our happiness.

"But a terrible change came over our stepfather about this time. Instead of making friends and exchanging visits with our neighbours, who had at first been overjoyed to see a Roylott of Stoke Moran back in the old family seat, he shut himself up in his house and seldom came out save to indulge in ferocious quarrels with whoever might cross his path. Violence of temper approaching to mania has been hereditary in the men of the family, and in my stepfather's case it had, I believe, been intensified by his long residence in the tropics. A series of disgraceful brawls took place, two of which ended in the police-court, until at last he became the terror of the village, and the folks would fly at his approach, for he is a man of immense strength, and absolutely uncontrollable in his anger.

"Last week he hurled the local blacksmith over a parapet into a stream, and it was only by paying over all the money which I could gather together that I was able to avert another public exposure. He had no friends at all save the wandering gipsies, and he would give these vagabonds leave to encamp upon the few acres of bramble-covered land which represent the family estate, and would accept in return the hospitality of their tents, wandering away with them sometimes for weeks on end. He has a passion also for Indian animals, which are sent over to him by a correspondent, and he has at this moment a cheetah and a baboon, which wander freely over his grounds and are feared by the villagers almost as much as their master.

"You can imagine from what I say that my poor sister Julia and I had no great pleasure in our lives. No servant would stay with us, and for a long time we did all the work of the house. She was but thirty at the time of her death, and yet her hair had already begun to whiten, even as mine has."

"Your sister is dead, then?"

"She died just two years ago, and it is of her death that I wish to speak to you. You can understand that, living the life which I have described, we were little likely to see anyone of our own age and position. We had, however, an aunt, my mother's maiden sister, Miss Honoria Westphail, who lives near Harrow, and we were occasionally allowed to pay short visits at this lady's house. Julia went there at Christmas two years ago, and met there a half-pay major of marines, to whom she became engaged. My stepfather learned of the engagement when my sister returned and offered no objection to the marriage; but within a fortnight of the day which had been fixed for the wedding, the terrible event occurred which has deprived me of my only companion."

Sherlock Holmes had been leaning back in his chair with his eyes closed and his head sunk in a cushion, but he half opened his lids now and glanced across at his visitor.

"Pray be precise as to details," said he.

"It is easy for me to be so, for every event of that dreadful time is seared into my memory. The manor-house is, as I have already said, very old, and only one wing is now inhabited. The bedrooms in this wing are on the ground floor, the sitting-rooms being in the central block of the buildings. Of these bedrooms the first is Dr. Roylott's, the second my sister's, and the third my own. There is no communication between them, but they all open out into the same corridor. Do I make myself plain?"

"Perfectly so."

"The windows of the three rooms open out upon the lawn. That fatal night Dr. Roylott had gone to his room early, though we knew that he had not retired to rest, for my sister was troubled by the smell of the strong Indian cigars which it was his custom to smoke. She left her room, therefore, and came into mine, where she sat for some time, chatting about her approaching wedding. At eleven o'clock she rose to leave me, but she paused at the door and looked back.

" 'Tell me, Helen,' said she, 'have you ever heard anyone whistle in the dead of the night?'

" 'Never,' said I.

" 'I suppose that you could not possibly whistle, yourself, in your sleep?'

" 'Certainly not. But why?'

" 'Because during the last few nights I have always, about three in the morning, heard a low, clear whistle. I am a light sleeper, and it has awakened me. I cannot tell where it came from--perhaps from the next room, perhaps from the lawn. I thought that I would just ask you whether you had heard it.'

" 'No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the plantation.'

" 'Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that you did not hear it also.'

" 'Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.'

" 'Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.' She smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key turn in the lock."

"Indeed," said Holmes. "Was it your custom always to lock yourselves in at night?"

"Always."

"And why?"

"I think that I mentioned to you that the doctor kept a cheetah and a baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked."

"Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement."

"I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you know how subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely allied. It was a wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, there burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew that it was my sister's voice. I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle, such as my sister described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a mass of metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister's door was unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it horror-stricken, not knowing what was about to issue from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp I saw my sister appear at the opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard. I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment her knees seemed to give way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible pain, and her limbs were dreadfully convulsed. At first I thought that she had not recognised me, but as I bent over her she suddenly shrieked out in a voice which I shall never forget, 'Oh, my God! Helen! It was the band! The speckled band!' There was something else which she would fain have said, and she stabbed with her finger into the air in the direction of the doctor's room, but a fresh convulsion seized her and choked her words. I rushed out, calling loudly for my stepfather, and I met him hastening from his room in his dressing-gown. When he reached my sister's side she was unconscious, and though he poured brandy down her throat and sent for medical aid from the village, all efforts were in vain, for she slowly sank and died without having recovered her consciousness. Such was the dreadful end of my beloved sister."

"One moment," said Holmes, "are you sure about this whistle and metallic sound? Could you swear to it?"

"That was what the county coroner asked me at the inquiry. It is my strong impression that I heard it, and yet, among the crash of the gale and the creaking of an old house, I may possibly have been deceived."

"Was your sister dressed?"

"No, she was in her night-dress. In her right hand was found the charred stump of a match, and in her left a match-box."

"Showing that she had struck a light and looked about her when the alarm took place. That is important. And what conclusions did the coroner come to?"

"He investigated the case with great care, for Dr. Roylott's conduct had long been notorious in the county, but he was unable to find any satisfactory cause of death. My evidence showed that the door had been fastened upon the inner side, and the windows were blocked by old-fashioned shutters with broad iron bars, which were secured every night. The walls were carefully sounded, and were shown to be quite solid all round, and the flooring was also thoroughly examined, with the same result. The chimney is wide, but is barred up by four large staples. It is certain, therefore, that my sister was quite alone when she met her end. Besides, there were no marks of any violence upon her."

"How about poison?"

"The doctors examined her for it, but without success."

"What do you think that this unfortunate lady died of, then?"

"It is my belief that she died of pure fear and nervous shock, though what it was that frightened her I cannot imagine."

"Were there gipsies in the plantation at the time?"

"Yes, there are nearly always some there."

"Ah, and what did you gather from this allusion to a band--a speckled band?"

"Sometimes I have thought that it was merely the wild talk of delirium, sometimes that it may have referred to some band of people, perhaps to these very gipsies in the plantation. I do not know whether the spotted handkerchiefs which so many of them wear over their heads might have suggested the strange adjective which she used."

Holmes shook his head like a man who is far from being satisfied.

"These are very deep waters," said he; "pray go on with your narrative."

"Two years have passed since then, and my life has been until lately lonelier than ever. A month ago, however, a dear friend, whom I have known for many years, has done me the honour to ask my hand in marriage. His name is Armitage--Percy Armitage--the second son of Mr. Armitage, of Crane Water, near Reading. My stepfather has offered no opposition to the match, and we are to be married in the course of the spring. Two days ago some repairs were started in the west wing of the building, and my bedroom wall has been pierced, so that I have had to move into the chamber in which my sister died, and to sleep in the very bed in which she slept. Imagine, then, my thrill of terror when last night, as I lay awake, thinking over her terrible fate, I suddenly heard in the silence of the night the low whistle which had been the herald of her own death. I sprang up and lit the lamp, but nothing was to be seen in the room. I was too shaken to go to bed again, however, so I dressed, and as soon as it was daylight I slipped down, got a dog-cart at the Crown Inn, which is opposite, and drove to Leatherhead, from whence I have come on this morning with the one object of seeing you and asking your advice."

"You have done wisely," said my friend. "But have you told me all?"

"Yes, all."

"Miss Roylott, you have not. You are screening your stepfather."

"Why, what do you mean?"

For answer Holmes pushed back the frill of black lace which fringed the hand that lay upon our visitor's knee. Five little livid spots, the marks of four fingers and a thumb, were printed upon the white wrist.

"You have been cruelly used," said Holmes.

The lady coloured deeply and covered over her injured wrist. "He is a hard man," she said, "and perhaps he hardly knows his own strength."

There was a long silence, during which Holmes leaned his chin upon his hands and stared into the crackling fire.

"This is a very deep business," he said at last. "There are a thousand details which I should desire to know before I decide upon our course of action. Yet we have not a moment to lose. If we were to come to Stoke Moran to-day, would it be possible for us to see over these rooms without the knowledge of your stepfather?"

"As it happens, he spoke of coming into town to-day upon some most important business. It is probable that he will be away all day, and that there would be nothing to disturb you. We have a housekeeper now, but she is old and foolish, and I could easily get her out of the way."

"Excellent. You are not averse to this trip, Watson?"

"By no means."

"Then we shall both come. What are you going to do yourself?"

"I have one or two things which I would wish to do now that I am in town. But I shall return by the twelve o'clock train, so as to be there in time for your coming."

"And you may expect us early in the afternoon. I have myself some small business matters to attend to. Will you not wait and breakfast?"

"No, I must go. My heart is lightened already since I have confided my trouble to you. I shall look forward to seeing you again this afternoon." She dropped her thick black veil over her face and glided from the room.

"And what do you think of it all, Watson?" asked Sherlock Holmes, leaning back in his chair.

"It seems to me to be a most dark and sinister business."

"Dark enough and sinister enough."

"Yet if the lady is correct in saying that the flooring and walls are sound, and that the door, window, and chimney are impassable, then her sister must have been undoubtedly alone when she met her mysterious end."

"What becomes, then, of these nocturnal whistles, and what of the very peculiar words of the dying woman?"

"I cannot think."

"When you combine the ideas of whistles at night, the presence of a band of gipsies who are on intimate terms with this old doctor, the fact that we have every reason to believe that the doctor has an interest in preventing his stepdaughter's marriage, the dying allusion to a band, and, finally, the fact that Miss Helen Stoner heard a metallic clang, which might have been caused by one of those metal bars that secured the shutters falling back into its place, I think that there is good ground to think that the mystery may be cleared along those lines."

"But what, then, did the gipsies do?"

"I cannot imagine."

"I see many objections to any such theory."

"And so do I. It is precisely for that reason that we are going to Stoke Moran this day. I want to see whether the objections are fatal, or if they may be explained away. But what in the name of the devil!"

The ejaculation had been drawn from my companion by the fact that our door had been suddenly dashed open, and that a huge man had framed himself in the aperture. His costume was a peculiar mixture of the professional and of the agricultural, having a black top-hat, a long frock-coat, and a pair of high gaiters, with a hunting-crop swinging in his hand. So tall was he that his hat actually brushed the cross bar of the doorway, and his breadth seemed to span it across from side to side. A large face, seared with a thousand wrinkles, burned yellow with the sun, and marked with every evil passion, was turned from one to the other of us, while his deep-set, bile-shot eyes, and his high, thin, fleshless nose, gave him somewhat the resemblance to a fierce old bird of prey.

"Which of you is Holmes?" asked this apparition.

"My name, sir; but you have the advantage of me," said my companion quietly.

"I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran."

"Indeed, Doctor," said Holmes blandly. "Pray take a seat."

"I will do nothing of the kind. My stepdaughter has been here. I have traced her. What has she been saying to you?"

"It is a little cold for the time of the year," said Holmes.

"What has she been saying to you?" screamed the old man furiously.

"But I have heard that the crocuses promise well," continued my companion imperturbably.

"Ha! You put me off, do you?" said our new visitor, taking a step forward and shaking his hunting-crop. "I know you, you scoundrel! I have heard of you before. You are Holmes, the meddler."

My friend smiled.

"Holmes, the busybody!"

His smile broadened.

"Holmes, the Scotland Yard Jack-in-office!"

Holmes chuckled heartily. "Your conversation is most entertaining," said he. "When you go out close the door, for there is a decided draught."

"I will go when I have said my say. Don't you dare to meddle with my affairs. I know that Miss Stoner has been here. I traced her! I am a dangerous man to fall foul of! See here." He stepped swiftly forward, seized the poker, and bent it into a curve with his huge brown hands.

"See that you keep yourself out of my grip," he snarled, and hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace he strode out of the room.

"He seems a very amiable person," said Holmes, laughing. "I am not quite so bulky, but if he had remained I might have shown him that my grip was not much more feeble than his own." As he spoke he picked up the steel poker and, with a sudden effort, straightened it out again.

"Fancy his having the insolence to confound me with the official detective force! This incident gives zest to our investigation, however, and I only trust that our little friend will not suffer from her imprudence in allowing this brute to trace her. And now, Watson, we shall order breakfast, and afterwards I shall walk down to Doctors' Commons, where I hope to get some data which may help us in this matter."

It was nearly one o'clock when Sherlock Holmes returned from his excursion. He held in his hand a sheet of blue paper, scrawled over with notes and figures.

"I have seen the will of the deceased wife," said he. "To determine its exact meaning I have been obliged to work out the present prices of the investments with which it is concerned. The total income, which at the time of the wife's death was little short of $1100, is now, through the fall in agricultural prices, not more than $750. Each daughter can claim an income of $250, in case of marriage. It is evident, therefore, that if both girls had married, this beauty would have had a mere pittance, while even one of them would cripple him to a very serious extent. My morning's work has not been wasted, since it has proved that he has the very strongest motives for standing in the way of anything of the sort. And now, Watson, this is too serious for dawdling, especially as the old man is aware that we are interesting ourselves in his affairs; so if you are ready, we shall call a cab and drive to Waterloo. I should be very much obliged if you would slip your revolver into your pocket. An Eley's No. 2 is an excellent argument with gentlemen who can twist steel pokers into knots. That and a tooth-brush are, I think, all that we need."

At Waterloo we were fortunate in catching a train for Leatherhead, where we hired a trap at the station inn and drove for four or five miles through the lovely Surrey lanes. It was a perfect day, with a bright sun and a few fleecy clouds in the heavens. The trees and wayside hedges were just throwing out their first green shoots, and the air was full of the pleasant smell of the moist earth. To me at least there was a strange contrast between the sweet promise of the spring and this sinister quest upon which we were engaged. My companion sat in the front of the trap, his arms folded, his hat pulled down over his eyes, and his chin sunk upon his breast, buried in the deepest thought. Suddenly, however, he started, tapped me on the shoulder, and pointed over the meadows.

"Look there!" said he.

A heavily timbered park stretched up in a gentle slope, thickening into a grove at the highest point. From amid the branches there jutted out the grey gables and high roof-tree of a very old mansion.

"Stoke Moran?" said he.

"Yes, sir, that be the house of Dr. Grimesby Roylott," remarked the driver.

"There is some building going on there," said Holmes; "that is where we are going."

"There's the village," said the driver, pointing to a cluster of roofs some distance to the left; "but if you want to get to the house, you'll find it shorter to get over this stile, and so by the foot-path over the fields. There it is, where the lady is walking."

"And the lady, I fancy, is Miss Stoner," observed Holmes, shading his eyes. "Yes, I think we had better do as you suggest."

We got off, paid our fare, and the trap rattled back on its way to Leatherhead.

"I thought it as well," said Holmes as we climbed the stile, "that this fellow should think we had come here as architects, or on some definite business. It may stop his gossip. Good-afternoon, Miss Stoner. You see that we have been as good as our word."

Our client of the morning had hurried forward to meet us with a face which spoke her joy. "I have been waiting so eagerly for you," she cried, shaking hands with us warmly. "All has turned out splendidly. Dr. Roylott has gone to town, and it is unlikely that he will be back before evening."

"We have had the pleasure of making the doctor's acquaintance," said Holmes, and in a few words he sketched out what had occurred. Miss Stoner turned white to the lips as she listened.

"Good heavens!" she cried, "he has followed me, then."

"So it appears."

"He is so cunning that I never know when I am safe from him. What will he say when he returns?"

"He must guard himself, for he may find that there is someone more cunning than himself upon his track. You must lock yourself up from him to-night. If he is violent, we shall take you away to your aunt's at Harrow. Now, we must make the best use of our time, so kindly take us at once to the rooms which we are to examine."

The building was of grey, lichen-blotched stone, with a high central portion and two curving wings, like the claws of a crab, thrown out on each side. In one of these wings the windows were broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof was partly caved in, a picture of ruin. The central portion was in little better repair, but the right-hand block was comparatively modern, and the blinds in the windows, with the blue smoke curling up from the chimneys, showed that this was where the family resided. Some scaffolding had been erected against the end wall, and the stone-work had been broken into, but there were no signs of any workmen at the moment of our visit. Holmes walked slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn and examined with deep attention the outsides of the windows.

"This, I take it, belongs to the room in which you used to sleep, the centre one to your sister's, and the one next to the main building to Dr. Roylott's chamber?"

"Exactly so. But I am now sleeping in the middle one."

"Pending the alterations, as I understand. By the way, there does not seem to be any very pressing need for repairs at that end wall."

"There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room."

"Ah! that is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows in it, of course?"

"Yes, but very small ones. Too narrow for anyone to pass through."

"As you both locked your doors at night, your rooms were unapproachable from that side. Now, would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters?"

Miss Stoner did so, and Holmes, after a careful examination through the open window, endeavoured in every way to force the shutter open, but without success. There was no slit through which a knife could be passed to raise the bar. Then with his lens he tested the hinges, but they were of solid iron, built firmly into the massive masonry. "Hum!" said he, scratching his chin in some perplexity, "my theory certainly presents some difficulties. No one could pass these shutters if they were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter."

A small side door led into the whitewashed corridor from which the three bedrooms opened. Holmes refused to examine the third chamber, so we passed at once to the second, that in which Miss Stoner was now sleeping, and in which her sister had met with her fate. It was a homely little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and the panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old and discoloured that it may have dated from the original building of the house. Holmes drew one of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while his eyes travelled round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the apartment.

"Where does that bell communicate with?" he asked at last pointing to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually lying upon the pillow.

"It goes to the housekeeper's room."

"It looks newer than the other things?"

"Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago."

"Your sister asked for it, I suppose?"

"No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we wanted for ourselves."

"Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. You will excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this floor." He threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand and crawled swiftly backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks between the boards. Then he did the same with the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and in running his eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it a brisk tug.

"Why, it's a dummy," said he.

"Won't it ring?"

"No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little opening for the ventilator is."

"How very absurd! I never noticed that before."

"Very strange!" muttered Holmes, pulling at the rope. "There are one or two very singular points about this room. For example, what a fool a builder must be to open a ventilator into another room, when, with the same trouble, he might have communicated with the outside air!"

"That is also quite modern," said the lady.

"Done about the same time as the bell-rope?" remarked Holmes.

"Yes, there were several little changes carried out about that time."

"They seem to have been of a most interesting character--dummy bell-ropes, and ventilators which do not ventilate. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall now carry our researches into the inner apartment."

Dr. Grimesby Roylott's chamber was larger than that of his step-daughter, but was as plainly furnished. A camp-bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, mostly of a technical character, an armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a large iron safe were the principal things which met the eye. Holmes walked slowly round and examined each and all of them with the keenest interest.

"What's in here?" he asked, tapping the safe.

"My stepfather's business papers."

"Oh! you have seen inside, then?"

"Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers."

"There isn't a cat in it, for example?"

"No. What a strange idea!"

"Well, look at this!" He took up a small saucer of milk which stood on the top of it.

"No; we don't keep a cat. But there is a cheetah and a baboon."

"Ah, yes, of course! Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, and yet a saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants, I daresay. There is one point which I should wish to determine." He squatted down in front of the wooden chair and examined the seat of it with the greatest attention.

"Thank you. That is quite settled," said he, rising and putting his lens in his pocket. "Hullo! Here is something interesting!"

The object which had caught his eye was a small dog lash hung on one corner of the bed. The lash, however, was curled upon itself and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord.

"What do you make of that, Watson?"

"It's a common enough lash. But I don't know why it should be tied."

"That is not quite so common, is it? Ah, me! it's a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all. I think that I have seen enough now, Miss Stoner, and with your permission we shall walk out upon the lawn."

I had never seen my friend's face so grim or his brow so dark as it was when we turned from the scene of this investigation. We had walked several times up and down the lawn, neither Miss Stoner nor myself liking to break in upon his thoughts before he roused himself from his reverie.

"It is very essential, Miss Stoner," said he, "that you should absolutely follow my advice in every respect."

"I shall most certainly do so."

"The matter is too serious for any hesitation. Your life may depend upon your compliance."

"I assure you that I am in your hands."

"In the first place, both my friend and I must spend the night in your room."

Both Miss Stoner and I gazed at him in astonishment.

"Yes, it must be so. Let me explain. I believe that that is the village inn over there?"

"Yes, that is the Crown."

"Very good. Your windows would be visible from there?"

"Certainly."

"You must confine yourself to your room, on pretence of a headache, when your stepfather comes back. Then when you hear him retire for the night, you must open the shutters of your window, undo the hasp, put your lamp there as a signal to us, and then withdraw quietly with everything which you are likely to want into the room which you used to occupy. I have no doubt that, in spite of the repairs, you could manage there for one night."

"Oh, yes, easily."

"The rest you will leave in our hands."

"But what will you do?"

"We shall spend the night in your room, and we shall investigate the cause of this noise which has disturbed you."

"I believe, Mr. Holmes, that you have already made up your mind," said Miss Stoner, laying her hand upon my companion's sleeve.

"Perhaps I have."

"Then, for pity's sake, tell me what was the cause of my sister's death."

"I should prefer to have clearer proofs before I speak."

"You can at least tell me whether my own thought is correct, and if she died from some sudden fright."

"No, I do not think so. I think that there was probably some more tangible cause. And now, Miss Stoner, we must leave you for if Dr. Roylott returned and saw us our journey would be in vain. Good-bye, and be brave, for if you will do what I have told you, you may rest assured that we shall soon drive away the dangers that threaten you."

Sherlock Holmes and I had no difficulty in engaging a bedroom and sitting-room at the Crown Inn. They were on the upper floor, and from our window we could command a view of the avenue gate, and of the inhabited wing of Stoke Moran Manor House. At dusk we saw Dr. Grimesby Roylott drive past, his huge form looming up beside the little figure of the lad who drove him. The boy had some slight difficulty in undoing the heavy iron gates, and we heard the hoarse roar of the doctor's voice and saw the fury with which he shook his clinched fists at him. The trap drove on, and a few minutes later we saw a sudden light spring up among the trees as the lamp was lit in one of the sitting-rooms.

"Do you know, Watson," said Holmes as we sat together in the gathering darkness, "I have really some scruples as to taking you to-night. There is a distinct element of danger."

"Can I be of assistance?"

"Your presence might be invaluable."

"Then I shall certainly come."

"It is very kind of you."

"You speak of danger. You have evidently seen more in these rooms than was visible to me."

"No, but I fancy that I may have deduced a little more. I imagine that you saw all that I did."

"I saw nothing remarkable save the bell-rope, and what purpose that could answer I confess is more than I can imagine."

"You saw the ventilator, too?"

"Yes, but I do not think that it is such a very unusual thing to have a small opening between two rooms. It was so small that a rat could hardly pass through."

"I knew that we should find a ventilator before ever we came to Stoke Moran."

"My dear Holmes!"

"Oh, yes, I did. You remember in her statement she said that her sister could smell Dr. Roylott's cigar. Now, of course that suggested at once that there must be a communication between the two rooms. It could only be a small one, or it would have been remarked upon at the coroner's inquiry. I deduced a ventilator."

"But what harm can there be in that?"

"Well, there is at least a curious coincidence of dates. A ventilator is made, a cord is hung, and a lady who sleeps in the bed dies. Does not that strike you?"

"I cannot as yet see any connection."

"Did you observe anything very peculiar about that bed?"

"No."

"It was clamped to the floor. Did you ever see a bed fastened like that before?"

"I cannot say that I have."

"The lady could not move her bed. It must always be in the same relative position to the ventilator and to the rope--or so we may call it, since it was clearly never meant for a bell-pull."

"Holmes," I cried, "I seem to see dimly what you are hinting at. We are only just in time to prevent some subtle and horrible crime."

"Subtle enough and horrible enough. When a doctor does go wrong he is the first of criminals. He has nerve and he has knowledge. Palmer and Pritchard were among the heads of their profession. This man strikes even deeper, but I think, Watson, that we shall be able to strike deeper still. But we shall have horrors enough before the night is over; for goodness' sake let us have a quiet pipe and turn our minds for a few hours to something more cheerful."

About nine o'clock the light among the trees was extinguished, and all was dark in the direction of the Manor House. Two hours passed slowly away, and then, suddenly, just at the stroke of eleven, a single bright light shone out right in front of us.

"That is our signal," said Holmes, springing to his feet; "it comes from the middle window."

As we passed out he exchanged a few words with the landlord, explaining that we were going on a late visit to an acquaintance, and that it was possible that we might spend the night there. A moment later we were out on the dark road, a chill wind blowing in our faces, and one yellow light twinkling in front of us through the gloom to guide us on our sombre errand.

There was little difficulty in entering the grounds, for unrepaired breaches gaped in the old park wall. Making our way among the trees, we reached the lawn, crossed it, and were about to enter through the window when out from a clump of laurel bushes there darted what seemed to be a hideous and distorted child, who threw itself upon the grass with writhing limbs and then ran swiftly across the lawn into the darkness.

"My God!" I whispered; "did you see it?"

Holmes was for the moment as startled as I. His hand closed like a vice upon my wrist in his agitation. Then he broke into a low laugh and put his lips to my ear.

"It is a nice household," he murmured. "That is the baboon."

I had forgotten the strange pets which the doctor affected. There was a cheetah, too; perhaps we might find it upon our shoulders at any moment. I confess that I felt easier in my mind when, after following Holmes' example and slipping off my shoes, I found myself inside the bedroom. My companion noiselessly closed the shutters, moved the lamp onto the table, and cast his eyes round the room. All was as we had seen it in the daytime. Then creeping up to me and making a trumpet of his hand, he whispered into my ear again so gently that it was all that I could do to distinguish the words:

"The least sound would be fatal to our plans."

I nodded to show that I had heard.

"We must sit without light. He would see it through the ventilator."

I nodded again.

"Do not go asleep; your very life may depend upon it. Have your pistol ready in case we should need it. I will sit on the side of the bed, and you in that chair."

I took out my revolver and laid it on the corner of the table.

Holmes had brought up a long thin cane, and this he placed upon the bed beside him. By it he laid the box of matches and the stump of a candle. Then he turned down the lamp, and we were left in darkness.

How shall I ever forget that dreadful vigil? I could not hear a sound, not even the drawing of a breath, and yet I knew that my companion sat open-eyed, within a few feet of me, in the same state of nervous tension in which I was myself. The shutters cut off the least ray of light, and we waited in absolute darkness.

From outside came the occasional cry of a night-bird, and once at our very window a long drawn catlike whine, which told us that the cheetah was indeed at liberty. Far away we could hear the deep tones of the parish clock, which boomed out every quarter of an hour. How long they seemed, those quarters! Twelve struck, and one and two and three, and still we sat waiting silently for whatever might befall.

Suddenly there was the momentary gleam of a light up in the direction of the ventilator, which vanished immediately, but was succeeded by a strong smell of burning oil and heated metal. Someone in the next room had lit a dark-lantern. I heard a gentle sound of movement, and then all was silent once more, though the smell grew stronger. For half an hour I sat with straining ears. Then suddenly another sound became audible--a very gentle, soothing sound, like that of a small jet of steam escaping continually from a kettle. The instant that we heard it, Holmes sprang from the bed, struck a match, and lashed furiously with his cane at the bell-pull.

"You see it, Watson?" he yelled. "You see it?"

But I saw nothing. At the moment when Holmes struck the light I heard a low, clear whistle, but the sudden glare flashing into my weary eyes made it impossible for me to tell what it was at which my friend lashed so savagely. I could, however, see that his face was deadly pale and filled with horror and loathing. He had ceased to strike and was gazing up at the ventilator when suddenly there broke from the silence of the night the most horrible cry to which I have ever listened. It swelled up louder and louder, a hoarse yell of pain and fear and anger all mingled in the one dreadful shriek. They say that away down in the village, and even in the distant parsonage, that cry raised the sleepers from their beds. It struck cold to our hearts, and I stood gazing at Holmes, and he at me, until the last echoes of it had died away into the silence from which it rose.

"What can it mean?" I gasped.

"It means that it is all over," Holmes answered. "And perhaps, after all, it is for the best. Take your pistol, and we will enter Dr. Roylott's room."

With a grave face he lit the lamp and led the way down the corridor. Twice he struck at the chamber door without any reply from within. Then he turned the handle and entered, I at his heels, with the cocked pistol in my hand.

It was a singular sight which met our eyes. On the table stood a dark-lantern with the shutter half open, throwing a brilliant beam of light upon the iron safe, the door of which was ajar. Beside this table, on the wooden chair, sat Dr. Grimesby Roylott clad in a long grey dressing-gown, his bare ankles protruding beneath, and his feet thrust into red heelless Turkish slippers. Across his lap lay the short stock with the long lash which we had noticed during the day. His chin was cocked upward and his eyes were fixed in a dreadful, rigid stare at the corner of the ceiling. Round his brow he had a peculiar yellow band, with brownish speckles, which seemed to be bound tightly round his head. As we entered he made neither sound nor motion.

"The band! the speckled band!" whispered Holmes.

I took a step forward. In an instant his strange headgear began to move, and there reared itself from among his hair the squat diamond-shaped head and puffed neck of a loathsome serpent.

"It is a swamp adder!" cried Holmes; "the deadliest snake in India. He has died within ten seconds of being bitten. Violence does, in truth, recoil upon the violent, and the schemer falls into the pit which he digs for another. Let us thrust this creature back into its den, and we can then remove Miss Stoner to some place of shelter and let the county police know what has happened."

As he spoke he drew the dog-whip swiftly from the dead man's lap, and throwing the noose round the reptile's neck he drew it from its horrid perch and, carrying it at arm's length, threw it into the iron safe, which he closed upon it.

Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow, of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet to learn of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back next day.

"I had," said he, "come to an entirely erroneous conclusion which shows, my dear Watson, how dangerous it always is to reason from insufficient data. The presence of the gipsies, and the use of the word 'band,' which was used by the poor girl, no doubt, to explain the appearance which she had caught a hurried glimpse of by the light of her match, were sufficient to put me upon an entirely wrong scent. I can only claim the merit that I instantly reconsidered my position when, however, it became clear to me that whatever danger threatened an occupant of the room could not come either from the window or the door. My attention was speedily drawn, as I have already remarked to you, to this ventilator, and to the bell-rope which hung down to the bed. The discovery that this was a dummy, and that the bed was clamped to the floor, instantly gave rise to the suspicion that the rope was there as a bridge for something passing through the hole and coming to the bed. The idea of a snake instantly occurred to me, and when I coupled it with my knowledge that the doctor was furnished with a supply of creatures from India, I felt that I was probably on the right track. The idea of using a form of poison which could not possibly be discovered by any chemical test was just such a one as would occur to a clever and ruthless man who had had an Eastern training. The rapidity with which such a poison would take effect would also, from his point of view, be an advantage. It would be a sharp-eyed coroner, indeed, who could distinguish the two little dark punctures which would show where the poison fangs had done their work. Then I thought of the whistle. Of course he must recall the snake before the morning light revealed it to the victim. He had trained it, probably by the use of the milk which we saw, to return to him when summoned. He would put it through this ventilator at the hour that he thought best, with the certainty that it would crawl down the rope and land on the bed. It might or might not bite the occupant, perhaps she might escape every night for a week, but sooner or later she must fall a victim.

"I had come to these conclusions before ever I had entered his room. An inspection of his chair showed me that he had been in the habit of standing on it, which of course would be necessary in order that he should reach the ventilator. The sight of the safe, the saucer of milk, and the loop of whipcord were enough to finally dispel any doubts which may have remained. The metallic clang heard by Miss Stoner was obviously caused by her stepfather hastily closing the door of his safe upon its terrible occupant. Having once made up my mind, you know the steps which I took in order to put the matter to the proof. I heard the creature hiss as I have no doubt that you did also, and I instantly lit the light and attacked it."

"With the result of driving it through the ventilator."

"And also with the result of causing it to turn upon its master at the other side. Some of the blows of my cane came home and roused its snakish temper, so that it flew upon the first person it saw. In this way I am no doubt indirectly responsible for Dr. Grimesby Roylott's death, and I cannot say that it is likely to weigh very heavily upon my conscience."

IX.  THE ADVENTURE OF THE ENGINEER'S THUMB


Of all the problems which have been submitted to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, for solution during the years of our intimacy, there were only two which I was the means of introducing to his notice--that of Mr. Hatherley's thumb, and that of Colonel Warburton's madness. Of these the latter may have afforded a finer field for an acute and original observer, but the other was so strange in its inception and so dramatic in its details that it may be the more worthy of being placed upon record, even if it gave my friend fewer openings for those deductive methods of reasoning by which he achieved such remarkable results. The story has, I believe, been told more than once in the newspapers, but, like all such narratives, its effect is much less striking when set forth en bloc in a single half-column of print than when the facts slowly evolve before your own eyes, and the mystery clears gradually away as each new discovery furnishes a step which leads on to the complete truth. At the time the circumstances made a deep impression upon me, and the lapse of two years has hardly served to weaken the effect.

It was in the summer of '89, not long after my marriage, that the events occurred which I am now about to summarise. I had returned to civil practice and had finally abandoned Holmes in his Baker Street rooms, although I continually visited him and occasionally even persuaded him to forgo his Bohemian habits so far as to come and visit us. My practice had steadily increased, and as I happened to live at no very great distance from Paddington Station, I got a few patients from among the officials. One of these, whom I had cured of a painful and lingering disease, was never weary of advertising my virtues and of endeavouring to send me on every sufferer over whom he might have any influence.

One morning, at a little before seven o'clock, I was awakened by the maid tapping at the door to announce that two men had come from Paddington and were waiting in the consulting-room. I dressed hurriedly, for I knew by experience that railway cases were seldom trivial, and hastened downstairs. As I descended, my old ally, the guard, came out of the room and closed the door tightly behind him.

"I've got him here," he whispered, jerking his thumb over his shoulder; "he's all right."

"What is it, then?" I asked, for his manner suggested that it was some strange creature which he had caged up in my room.

"It's a new patient," he whispered. "I thought I'd bring him round myself; then he couldn't slip away. There he is, all safe and sound. I must go now, Doctor; I have my dooties, just the same as you." And off he went, this trusty tout, without even giving me time to thank him.

I entered my consulting-room and found a gentleman seated by the table. He was quietly dressed in a suit of heather tweed with a soft cloth cap which he had laid down upon my books. Round one of his hands he had a handkerchief wrapped, which was mottled all over with bloodstains. He was young, not more than five-and-twenty, I should say, with a strong, masculine face; but he was exceedingly pale and gave me the impression of a man who was suffering from some strong agitation, which it took all his strength of mind to control.

"I am sorry to knock you up so early, Doctor," said he, "but I have had a very serious accident during the night. I came in by train this morning, and on inquiring at Paddington as to where I might find a doctor, a worthy fellow very kindly escorted me here. I gave the maid a card, but I see that she has left it upon the side-table."

I took it up and glanced at it. "Mr. Victor Hatherley, hydraulic engineer, 16A, Victoria Street (3rd floor)." That was the name, style, and abode of my morning visitor. "I regret that I have kept you waiting," said I, sitting down in my library-chair. "You are fresh from a night journey, I understand, which is in itself a monotonous occupation."

"Oh, my night could not be called monotonous," said he, and laughed. He laughed very heartily, with a high, ringing note, leaning back in his chair and shaking his sides. All my medical instincts rose up against that laugh.

"Stop it!" I cried; "pull yourself together!" and I poured out some water from a caraffe.

It was useless, however. He was off in one of those hysterical outbursts which come upon a strong nature when some great crisis is over and gone. Presently he came to himself once more, very weary and pale-looking.

"I have been making a fool of myself," he gasped.

"Not at all. Drink this." I dashed some brandy into the water, and the colour began to come back to his bloodless cheeks.

"That's better!" said he. "And now, Doctor, perhaps you would kindly attend to my thumb, or rather to the place where my thumb used to be."

He unwound the handkerchief and held out his hand. It gave even my hardened nerves a shudder to look at it. There were four protruding fingers and a horrid red, spongy surface where the thumb should have been. It had been hacked or torn right out from the roots.

"Good heavens!" I cried, "this is a terrible injury. It must have bled considerably."

"Yes, it did. I fainted when it was done, and I think that I must have been senseless for a long time. When I came to I found that it was still bleeding, so I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly round the wrist and braced it up with a twig."

"Excellent! You should have been a surgeon."

"It is a question of hydraulics, you see, and came within my own province."

"This has been done," said I, examining the wound, "by a very heavy and sharp instrument."

"A thing like a cleaver," said he.

"An accident, I presume?"

"By no means."

"What! a murderous attack?"

"Very murderous indeed."

"You horrify me."

I sponged the wound, cleaned it, dressed it, and finally covered it over with cotton wadding and carbolised bandages. He lay back without wincing, though he bit his lip from time to time.

"How is that?" I asked when I had finished.

"Capital! Between your brandy and your bandage, I feel a new man. I was very weak, but I have had a good deal to go through."

"Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter. It is evidently trying to your nerves."

"Oh, no, not now. I shall have to tell my tale to the police; but, between ourselves, if it were not for the convincing evidence of this wound of mine, I should be surprised if they believed my statement, for it is a very extraordinary one, and I have not much in the way of proof with which to back it up; and, even if they believe me, the clues which I can give them are so vague that it is a question whether justice will be done."

"Ha!" cried I, "if it is anything in the nature of a problem which you desire to see solved, I should strongly recommend you to come to my friend, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, before you go to the official police."

"Oh, I have heard of that fellow," answered my visitor, "and I should be very glad if he would take the matter up, though of course I must use the official police as well. Would you give me an introduction to him?"

"I'll do better. I'll take you round to him myself."

"I should be immensely obliged to you."

"We'll call a cab and go together. We shall just be in time to have a little breakfast with him. Do you feel equal to it?"

"Yes; I shall not feel easy until I have told my story."

"Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an instant." I rushed upstairs, explained the matter shortly to my wife, and in five minutes was inside a hansom, driving with my new acquaintance to Baker Street.

Sherlock Holmes was, as I expected, lounging about his sitting-room in his dressing-gown, reading the agony column of The Times and smoking his before-breakfast pipe, which was composed of all the plugs and dottles left from his smokes of the day before, all carefully dried and collected on the corner of the mantelpiece. He received us in his quietly genial fashion, ordered fresh rashers and eggs, and joined us in a hearty meal. When it was concluded he settled our new acquaintance upon the sofa, placed a pillow beneath his head, and laid a glass of brandy and water within his reach.

"It is easy to see that your experience has been no common one, Mr. Hatherley," said he. "Pray, lie down there and make yourself absolutely at home. Tell us what you can, but stop when you are tired and keep up your strength with a little stimulant."

"Thank you," said my patient. "but I have felt another man since the doctor bandaged me, and I think that your breakfast has completed the cure. I shall take up as little of your valuable time as possible, so I shall start at once upon my peculiar experiences."

Holmes sat in his big armchair with the weary, heavy-lidded expression which veiled his keen and eager nature, while I sat opposite to him, and we listened in silence to the strange story which our visitor detailed to us.

"You must know," said he, "that I am an orphan and a bachelor, residing alone in lodgings in London. By profession I am a hydraulic engineer, and I have had considerable experience of my work during the seven years that I was apprenticed to Venner & Matheson, the well-known firm, of Greenwich. Two years ago, having served my time, and having also come into a fair sum of money through my poor father's death, I determined to start in business for myself and took professional chambers in Victoria Street.

"I suppose that everyone finds his first independent start in business a dreary experience. To me it has been exceptionally so. During two years I have had three consultations and one small job, and that is absolutely all that my profession has brought me. My gross takings amount to $27 10s. Every day, from nine in the morning until four in the afternoon, I waited in my little den, until at last my heart began to sink, and I came to believe that I should never have any practice at all.

"Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the office, my clerk entered to say there was a gentleman waiting who wished to see me upon business. He brought up a card, too, with the name of 'Colonel Lysander Stark' engraved upon it. Close at his heels came the colonel himself, a man rather over the middle size, but of an exceeding thinness. I do not think that I have ever seen so thin a man. His whole face sharpened away into nose and chin, and the skin of his cheeks was drawn quite tense over his outstanding bones. Yet this emaciation seemed to be his natural habit, and due to no disease, for his eye was bright, his step brisk, and his bearing assured. He was plainly but neatly dressed, and his age, I should judge, would be nearer forty than thirty.

" 'Mr. Hatherley?' said he, with something of a German accent. 'You have been recommended to me, Mr. Hatherley, as being a man who is not only proficient in his profession but is also discreet and capable of preserving a secret.'

"I bowed, feeling as flattered as any young man would at such an address. 'May I ask who it was who gave me so good a character?'

" 'Well, perhaps it is better that I should not tell you that just at this moment. I have it from the same source that you are both an orphan and a bachelor and are residing alone in London.'

" 'That is quite correct,' I answered; 'but you will excuse me if I say that I cannot see how all this bears upon my professional qualifications. I understand that it was on a professional matter that you wished to speak to me?'

" 'Undoubtedly so. But you will find that all I say is really to the point. I have a professional commission for you, but absolute secrecy is quite essential--absolute secrecy, you understand, and of course we may expect that more from a man who is alone than from one who lives in the bosom of his family.'

" 'If I promise to keep a secret,' said I, 'you may absolutely depend upon my doing so.'

"He looked very hard at me as I spoke, and it seemed to me that I had never seen so suspicious and questioning an eye.

" 'Do you promise, then?' said he at last.

" 'Yes, I promise.'

" 'Absolute and complete silence before, during, and after? No reference to the matter at all, either in word or writing?'

" 'I have already given you my word.'

" 'Very good.' He suddenly sprang up, and darting like lightning across the room he flung open the door. The passage outside was empty.

" 'That's all right,' said he, coming back. 'I know that clerks are sometimes curious as to their master's affairs. Now we can talk in safety.' He drew up his chair very close to mine and began to stare at me again with the same questioning and thoughtful look.

"A feeling of repulsion, and of something akin to fear had begun to rise within me at the strange antics of this fleshless man. Even my dread of losing a client could not restrain me from showing my impatience.

" 'I beg that you will state your business, sir,' said I; 'my time is of value.' Heaven forgive me for that last sentence, but the words came to my lips.

" 'How would fifty guineas for a night's work suit you?' he asked.

" 'Most admirably.'

" 'I say a night's work, but an hour's would be nearer the mark. I simply want your opinion about a hydraulic stamping machine which has got out of gear. If you show us what is wrong we shall soon set it right ourselves. What do you think of such a commission as that?'

" 'The work appears to be light and the pay munificent.'

" 'Precisely so. We shall want you to come to-night by the last train.'

" 'Where to?'

" 'To Eyford, in Berkshire. It is a little place near the borders of Oxfordshire, and within seven miles of Reading. There is a train from Paddington which would bring you there at about 11:15.'

" 'Very good.'

" 'I shall come down in a carriage to meet you.'

" 'There is a drive, then?'

" 'Yes, our little place is quite out in the country. It is a good seven miles from Eyford Station.'

" 'Then we can hardly get there before midnight. I suppose there would be no chance of a train back. I should be compelled to stop the night.'

" 'Yes, we could easily give you a shake-down.'

" 'That is very awkward. Could I not come at some more convenient hour?'

" 'We have judged it best that you should come late. It is to recompense you for any inconvenience that we are paying to you, a young and unknown man, a fee which would buy an opinion from the very heads of your profession. Still, of course, if you would like to draw out of the business, there is plenty of time to do so.'

"I thought of the fifty guineas, and of how very useful they would be to me. 'Not at all,' said I, 'I shall be very happy to accommodate myself to your wishes. I should like, however, to understand a little more clearly what it is that you wish me to do.'

" 'Quite so. It is very natural that the pledge of secrecy which we have exacted from you should have aroused your curiosity. I have no wish to commit you to anything without your having it all laid before you. I suppose that we are absolutely safe from eavesdroppers?'

" 'Entirely.'

" 'Then the matter stands thus. You are probably aware that fuller's-earth is a valuable product, and that it is only found in one or two places in England?'

" 'I have heard so.'

" 'Some little time ago I bought a small place--a very small place--within ten miles of Reading. I was fortunate enough to discover that there was a deposit of fuller's-earth in one of my fields. On examining it, however, I found that this deposit was a comparatively small one, and that it formed a link between two very much larger ones upon the right and left--both of them, however, in the grounds of my neighbours. These good people were absolutely ignorant that their land contained that which was quite as valuable as a gold-mine. Naturally, it was to my interest to buy their land before they discovered its true value, but unfortunately I had no capital by which I could do this. I took a few of my friends into the secret, however, and they suggested that we should quietly and secretly work our own little deposit and that in this way we should earn the money which would enable us to buy the neighbouring fields. This we have now been doing for some time, and in order to help us in our operations we erected a hydraulic press. This press, as I have already explained, has got out of order, and we wish your advice upon the subject. We guard our secret very jealously, however, and if it once became known that we had hydraulic engineers coming to our little house, it would soon rouse inquiry, and then, if the facts came out, it would be good-bye to any chance of getting these fields and carrying out our plans. That is why I have made you promise me that you will not tell a human being that you are going to Eyford to-night. I hope that I make it all plain?'

" 'I quite follow you,' said I. 'The only point which I could not quite understand was what use you could make of a hydraulic press in excavating fuller's-earth, which, as I understand, is dug out like gravel from a pit.'

" 'Ah!' said he carelessly, 'we have our own process. We compress the earth into bricks, so as to remove them without revealing what they are. But that is a mere detail. I have taken you fully into my confidence now, Mr. Hatherley, and I have shown you how I trust you.' He rose as he spoke. 'I shall expect you, then, at Eyford at 11:15.'

" 'I shall certainly be there.'

" 'And not a word to a soul.' He looked at me with a last long, questioning gaze, and then, pressing my hand in a cold, dank grasp, he hurried from the room.

"Well, when I came to think it all over in cool blood I was very much astonished, as you may both think, at this sudden commission which had been intrusted to me. On the one hand, of course, I was glad, for the fee was at least tenfold what I should have asked had I set a price upon my own services, and it was possible that this order might lead to other ones. On the other hand, the face and manner of my patron had made an unpleasant impression upon me, and I could not think that his explanation of the fuller's-earth was sufficient to explain the necessity for my coming at midnight, and his extreme anxiety lest I should tell anyone of my errand. However, I threw all fears to the winds, ate a hearty supper, drove to Paddington, and started off, having obeyed to the letter the injunction as to holding my tongue.

"At Reading I had to change not only my carriage but my station. However, I was in time for the last train to Eyford, and I reached the little dim-lit station after eleven o'clock. I was the only passenger who got out there, and there was no one upon the platform save a single sleepy porter with a lantern. As I passed out through the wicket gate, however, I found my acquaintance of the morning waiting in the shadow upon the other side. Without a word he grasped my arm and hurried me into a carriage, the door of which was standing open. He drew up the windows on either side, tapped on the wood-work, and away we went as fast as the horse could go."

"One horse?" interjected Holmes.

"Yes, only one."

"Did you observe the colour?"

"Yes, I saw it by the when I was stepping into the carriage. It was a chestnut."

"Tired-looking or fresh?"

"Oh, fresh and glossy."

"Thank you. I am sorry to have interrupted you. Pray continue your most interesting statement."

"Away we went then, and we drove for at least an hour. Colonel Lysander Stark had said that it was only seven miles, but I should think, from the rate that we seemed to go, and from the time that we took, that it must have been nearer twelve. He sat at my side in silence all the time, and I was aware, more than once when I glanced in his direction, that he was looking at me with great intensity. The country roads seem to be not very good in that part of the world, for we lurched and jolted terribly. I tried to look out of the windows to see something of where we were, but they were made of frosted glass, and I could make out nothing save the occasional bright blur of a passing light. Now and then I hazarded some remark to break the monotony of the journey, but the colonel answered only in monosyllables, and the conversation soon flagged. At last, however, the bumping of the road was exchanged for the crisp smoothness of a gravel-drive, and the carriage came to a stand. Colonel Lysander Stark sprang out, and, as I followed after him, pulled me swiftly into a porch which gaped in front of us. We stepped, as it were, right out of the carriage and into the hall, so that I failed to catch the most fleeting glance of the front of the house. The instant that I had crossed the threshold the door slammed heavily behind us, and I heard faintly the rattle of the wheels as the carriage drove away.

"It was pitch dark inside the house, and the colonel fumbled about looking for matches and muttering under his breath. Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage, and a long, golden bar of light shot out in our direction. It grew broader, and a woman appeared with a lamp in her hand, which she held above her head, pushing her face forward and peering at us. I could see that she was pretty, and from the gloss with which the light shone upon her dark dress I knew that it was a rich material. She spoke a few words in a foreign tongue in a tone as though asking a question, and when my companion answered in a gruff monosyllable she gave such a start that the lamp nearly fell from her hand. Colonel Stark went up to her, whispered something in her ear, and then, pushing her back into the room from whence she had come, he walked towards me again with the lamp in his hand.

" 'Perhaps you will have the kindness to wait in this room for a few minutes,' said he, throwing open another door. It was a quiet, little, plainly furnished room, with a round table in the centre, on which several German books were scattered. Colonel Stark laid down the lamp on the top of a harmonium beside the door. 'I shall not keep you waiting an instant,' said he, and vanished into the darkness.

"I glanced at the books upon the table, and in spite of my ignorance of German I could see that two of them were treatises on science, the others being volumes of poetry. Then I walked across to the window, hoping that I might catch some glimpse of the country-side, but an oak shutter, heavily barred, was folded across it. It was a wonderfully silent house. There was an old clock ticking loudly somewhere in the passage, but otherwise everything was deadly still. A vague feeling of uneasiness began to steal over me. Who were these German people, and what were they doing living in this strange, out-of-the-way place? And where was the place? I was ten miles or so from Eyford, that was all I knew, but whether north, south, east, or west I had no idea. For that matter, Reading, and possibly other large towns, were within that radius, so the place might not be so secluded, after all. Yet it was quite certain, from the absolute stillness, that we were in the country. I paced up and down the room, humming a tune under my breath to keep up my spirits and feeling that I was thoroughly earning my fifty-guinea fee.

"Suddenly, without any preliminary sound in the midst of the utter stillness, the door of my room swung slowly open. The woman was standing in the aperture, the darkness of the hall behind her, the yellow light from my lamp beating upon her eager and beautiful face. I could see at a glance that she was sick with fear, and the sight sent a chill to my own heart. She held up one shaking finger to warn me to be silent, and she shot a few whispered words of broken English at me, her eyes glancing back, like those of a frightened horse, into the gloom behind her.

" 'I would go,' said she, trying hard, as it seemed to me, to speak calmly; 'I would go. I should not stay here. There is no good for you to do.'

" 'But, madam,' said I, 'I have not yet done what I came for. I cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine.'

" 'It is not worth your while to wait,' she went on. 'You can pass through the door; no one hinders.' And then, seeing that I smiled and shook my head, she suddenly threw aside her constraint and made a step forward, with her hands wrung together. 'For the love of Heaven!' she whispered, 'get away from here before it is too late!'

"But I am somewhat headstrong by nature, and the more ready to engage in an affair when there is some obstacle in the way. I thought of my fifty-guinea fee, of my wearisome journey, and of the unpleasant night which seemed to be before me. Was it all to go for nothing? Why should I slink away without having carried out my commission, and without the payment which was my due? This woman might, for all I knew, be a monomaniac. With a stout bearing, therefore, though her manner had shaken me more than I cared to confess, I still shook my head and declared my intention of remaining where I was. She was about to renew her entreaties when a door slammed overhead, and the sound of several footsteps was heard upon the stairs. She listened for an instant, threw up her hands with a despairing gesture, and vanished as suddenly and as noiselessly as she had come.

"The newcomers were Colonel Lysander Stark and a short thick man with a chinchilla beard growing out of the creases of his double chin, who was introduced to me as Mr. Ferguson.

" 'This is my secretary and manager,' said the colonel. 'By the way, I was under the impression that I left this door shut just now. I fear that you have felt the draught.'

" 'On the contrary,' said I, 'I opened the door myself because I felt the room to be a little close.'

"He shot one of his suspicious looks at me. 'Perhaps we had better proceed to business, then,' said he. 'Mr. Ferguson and I will take you up to see the machine.'

" 'I had better put my hat on, I suppose.'

" 'Oh, no, it is in the house.'

" 'What, you dig fuller's-earth in the house?'

" 'No, no. This is only where we compress it. But never mind that. All we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us know what is wrong with it.'

"We went upstairs together, the colonel first with the lamp, the fat manager and I behind him. It was a labyrinth of an old house, with corridors, passages, narrow winding staircases, and little low doors, the thresholds of which were hollowed out by the generations who had crossed them. There were no carpets and no signs of any furniture above the ground floor, while the plaster was peeling off the walls, and the damp was breaking through in green, unhealthy blotches. I tried to put on as unconcerned an air as possible, but I had not forgotten the warnings of the lady, even though I disregarded them, and I kept a keen eye upon my two companions. Ferguson appeared to be a morose and silent man, but I could see from the little that he said that he was at least a fellow-countryman.

"Colonel Lysander Stark stopped at last before a low door, which he unlocked. Within was a small, square room, in which the three of us could hardly get at one time. Ferguson remained outside, and the colonel ushered me in.

" 'We are now,' said he, 'actually within the hydraulic press, and it would be a particularly unpleasant thing for us if anyone were to turn it on. The ceiling of this small chamber is really the end of the descending piston, and it comes down with the force of many tons upon this metal floor. There are small lateral columns of water outside which receive the force, and which transmit and multiply it in the manner which is familiar to you. The machine goes readily enough, but there is some stiffness in the working of it, and it has lost a little of its force. Perhaps you will have the goodness to look it over and to show us how we can set it right.'

"I took the lamp from him, and I examined the machine very thoroughly. It was indeed a gigantic one, and capable of exercising enormous pressure. When I passed outside, however, and pressed down the levers which controlled it, I knew at once by the whishing sound that there was a slight leakage, which allowed a regurgitation of water through one of the side cylinders. An examination showed that one of the india-rubber bands which was round the head of a driving-rod had shrunk so as not quite to fill the  along which it worked. This was clearly the cause of the loss of power, and I pointed it out to my companions, who followed my remarks very carefully and asked several practical questions as to how they should proceed to set it right. When I had made it clear to them, I returned to the main chamber of the machine and took a good look at it to satisfy my own curiosity. It was obvious at a glance that the story of the fuller's-earth was the merest fabrication, for it would be absurd to suppose that so powerful an engine could be designed for so inadequate a purpose. The walls were of wood, but the floor consisted of a large iron trough, and when I came to examine it I could see a crust of metallic deposit all over it. I had stooped and was scraping at this to see exactly what it was when I heard a muttered exclamation in German and saw the cadaverous face of the colonel looking down at me.

" 'What are you doing there?' he asked.

"I felt angry at having been tricked by so elaborate a story as that which he had told me. 'I was admiring your fuller's-earth,' said I; 'I think that I should be better able to advise you as to your machine if I knew what the exact purpose was for which it was used.'

"The instant that I uttered the words I regretted the rashness of my speech. His face set hard, and a baleful light sprang up in his grey eyes.

" 'Very well,' said he, 'you shall know all about the machine.' He took a step backward, slammed the little door, and turned the key in the lock. I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle, but it was quite secure, and did not give in the least to my kicks and shoves. 'Hullo!' I yelled. 'Hullo! Colonel! Let me out!'

"And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound which sent my heart into my mouth. It was the clank of the levers and the swish of the leaking cylinder. He had set the engine at work. The lamp still stood upon the floor where I had placed it when examining the trough. By its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me, slowly, jerkily, but, as none knew better than myself, with a force which must within a minute grind me to a shapeless pulp. I threw myself, screaming, against the door, and dragged with my nails at the lock. I implored the colonel to let me out, but the remorseless clanking of the levers drowned my cries. The ceiling was only a foot or two above my head, and with my hand upraised I could feel its hard, rough surface. Then it flashed through my mind that the pain of my death would depend very much upon the position in which I met it. If I lay on my face the weight would come upon my spine, and I shuddered to think of that dreadful snap. Easier the other way, perhaps; and yet, had I the nerve to lie and look up at that deadly black shadow wavering down upon me? Already I was unable to stand erect, when my eye caught something which brought a gush of hope back to my heart.

"I have said that though the floor and ceiling were of iron, the walls were of wood. As I gave a last hurried glance around, I saw a thin line of yellow light between two of the boards, which broadened and broadened as a small panel was pushed backward. For an instant I could hardly believe that here was indeed a door which led away from death. The next instant I threw myself through, and lay half-fainting upon the other side. The panel had closed again behind me, but the crash of the lamp, and a few moments afterwards the clang of the two slabs of metal, told me how narrow had been my escape.

"I was recalled to myself by a frantic plucking at my wrist, and I found myself lying upon the stone floor of a narrow corridor, while a woman bent over me and tugged at me with her left hand, while she held a candle in her right. It was the same good friend whose warning I had so foolishly rejected.

" 'Come! come!' she cried breathlessly. 'They will be here in a moment. They will see that you are not there. Oh, do not waste the so-precious time, but come!'

"This time, at least, I did not scorn her advice. I staggered to my feet and ran with her along the corridor and down a winding stair. The latter led to another broad passage, and just as we reached it we heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of two voices, one answering the other from the floor on which we were and from the one beneath. My guide stopped and looked about her like one who is at her wit's end. Then she threw open a door which led into a bedroom, through the window of which the moon was shining brightly.

" 'It is your only chance,' said she. 'It is high, but it may be that you can jump it.'

"As she spoke a light sprang into view at the further end of the passage, and I saw the lean figure of Colonel Lysander Stark rushing forward with a lantern in one hand and a weapon like a butcher's cleaver in the other. I rushed across the bedroom, flung open the window, and looked out. How quiet and sweet and wholesome the garden looked in the moonlight, and it could not be more than thirty feet down. I clambered out upon the sill, but I hesitated to jump until I should have heard what passed between my saviour and the ruffian who pursued me. If she were ill-used, then at any risks I was determined to go back to her assistance. The thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was at the door, pushing his way past her; but she threw her arms round him and tried to hold him back.

" 'Fritz! Fritz!' she cried in English, 'remember your promise after the last time. You said it should not be again. He will be silent! Oh, he will be silent!'

" 'You are mad, Elise!' he shouted, struggling to break away from her. 'You will be the ruin of us. He has seen too much. Let me pass, I say!' He dashed her to one side, and, rushing to the window, cut at me with his heavy weapon. I had let myself go, and was hanging by the hands to the sill, when his blow fell. I was conscious of a dull pain, my grip loosened, and I fell into the garden below.

"I was shaken but not hurt by the fall; so I picked myself up and rushed off among the bushes as hard as I could run, for I understood that I was far from being out of danger yet. Suddenly, however, as I ran, a deadly dizziness and sickness came over me. I glanced down at my hand, which was throbbing painfully, and then, for the first time, saw that my thumb had been cut off and that the blood was pouring from my wound. I endeavoured to tie my handkerchief round it, but there came a sudden buzzing in my ears, and next moment I fell in a dead faint among the rose-bushes.

"How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell. It must have been a very long time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning was breaking when I came to myself. My clothes were all sodden with dew, and my coat-sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded thumb. The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the particulars of my night's adventure, and I sprang to my feet with the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers. But to my astonishment, when I came to look round me, neither house nor garden were to be seen. I had been lying in an angle of the hedge close by the highroad, and just a little lower down was a long building, which proved, upon my approaching it, to be the very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night. Were it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed during those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream.

"Half dazed, I went into the station and asked about the morning train. There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The same porter was on duty, I found, as had been there when I arrived. I inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel Lysander Stark. The name was strange to him. Had he observed a carriage the night before waiting for me? No, he had not. Was there a police-station anywhere near? There was one about three miles off.

"It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was. I determined to wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the police. It was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first to have my wound dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to bring me along here. I put the case into your hands and shall do exactly what you advise."

We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to this extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he placed his cuttings.

"Here is an advertisement which will interest you," said he. "It appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this: 'Lost, on the 9th inst., Mr. Jeremiah Hayling, aged twenty-six, a hydraulic engineer. Left his lodgings at ten o'clock at night, and has not been heard of since. Was dressed in,' etc., etc. Ha! That represents the last time that the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I fancy."

"Good heavens!" cried my patient. "Then that explains what the girl said."

"Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and desperate man, who was absolutely determined that nothing should stand in the way of his little game, like those out-and-out pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship. Well, every moment now is precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall go down to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for Eyford."

Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train together, bound from Reading to the little Berkshire village. There were Sherlock Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Inspector Bradstreet, of Scotland Yard, a plain-clothes man, and myself. Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon the seat and was busy with his compasses drawing a circle with Eyford for its centre.

"There you are," said he. "That circle is drawn at a radius of ten miles from the village. The place we want must be somewhere near that line. You said ten miles, I think, sir."

"It was an hour's good drive."

"And you think that they brought you back all that way when you were unconscious?"

"They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having been lifted and conveyed somewhere."

"What I cannot understand," said I, "is why they should have spared you when they found you lying fainting in the garden. Perhaps the villain was softened by the woman's entreaties."

"I hardly think that likely. I never saw a more inexorable face in my life."

"Oh, we shall soon clear up all that," said Bradstreet. "Well, I have drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon it the folk that we are in search of are to be found."

"I think I could lay my finger on it," said Holmes quietly.

"Really, now!" cried the inspector, "you have formed your opinion! Come, now, we shall see who agrees with you. I say it is south, for the country is more deserted there."

"And I say east," said my patient.

"I am for west," remarked the plain-clothes man. "There are several quiet little villages up there."

"And I am for north," said I, "because there are no hills there, and our friend says that he did not notice the carriage go up any."

"Come," cried the inspector, laughing; "it's a very pretty diversity of opinion. We have boxed the compass among us. Who do you give your casting vote to?"

"You are all wrong."

"But we can't all be."

"Oh, yes, you can. This is my point." He placed his finger in the centre of the circle. "This is where we shall find them."

"But the twelve-mile drive?" gasped Hatherley.

"Six out and six back. Nothing simpler. You say yourself that the horse was fresh and glossy when you got in. How could it be that if it had gone twelve miles over heavy roads?"

"Indeed, it is a likely ruse enough," observed Bradstreet thoughtfully. "Of course there can be no doubt as to the nature of this gang."

"None at all," said Holmes. "They are coiners on a large scale, and have used the machine to form the amalgam which has taken the place of silver."

"We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work," said the inspector. "They have been turning out half-crowns by the thousand. We even traced them as far as Reading, but could get no farther, for they had covered their traces in a way that showed that they were very old hands. But now, thanks to this lucky chance, I think that we have got them right enough."

But the inspector was mistaken, for those criminals were not destined to fall into the hands of justice. As we rolled into Eyford Station we saw a gigantic column of smoke which streamed up from behind a small clump of trees in the neighbourhood and hung like an immense ostrich feather over the landscape.

"A house on fire?" asked Bradstreet as the train steamed off again on its way.

"Yes, sir!" said the station-master.

"When did it break out?"

"I hear that it was during the night, sir, but it has got worse, and the whole place is in a blaze."

"Whose house is it?"

"Dr. Becher's."

"Tell me," broke in the engineer, "is Dr. Becher a German, very thin, with a long, sharp nose?"

The station-master laughed heartily. "No, sir, Dr. Becher is an Englishman, and there isn't a man in the parish who has a better-lined waistcoat. But he has a gentleman staying with him, a patient, as I understand, who is a foreigner, and he looks as if a little good Berkshire beef would do him no harm."

The station-master had not finished his speech before we were all hastening in the direction of the fire. The road topped a low hill, and there was a great widespread whitewashed building in front of us, spouting fire at every chink and window, while in the garden in front three fire-engines were vainly striving to keep the flames under.

"That's it!" cried Hatherley, in intense excitement. "There is the gravel-drive, and there are the rose-bushes where I lay. That second window is the one that I jumped from."

"Well, at least," said Holmes, "you have had your revenge upon them. There can be no question that it was your oil-lamp which, when it was crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls, though no doubt they were too excited in the chase after you to observe it at the time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for your friends of last night, though I very much fear that they are a good hundred miles off by now."

And Holmes' fears came to be realised, for from that day to this no word has ever been heard either of the beautiful woman, the sinister German, or the morose Englishman. Early that morning a peasant had met a cart containing several people and some very bulky boxes driving rapidly in the direction of Reading, but there all traces of the fugitives disappeared, and even Holmes' ingenuity failed ever to discover the least clue as to their whereabouts.

The firemen had been much perturbed at the strange arrangements which they had found within, and still more so by discovering a newly severed human thumb upon a window-sill of the second floor. About sunset, however, their efforts were at last successful, and they subdued the flames, but not before the roof had fallen in, and the whole place been reduced to such absolute ruin that, save some twisted cylinders and iron piping, not a trace remained of the machinery which had cost our unfortunate acquaintance so dearly. Large masses of nickel and of tin were discovered stored in an out-house, but no coins were to be found, which may have explained the presence of those bulky boxes which have been already referred to.

How our hydraulic engineer had been conveyed from the garden to the spot where he recovered his senses might have remained forever a mystery were it not for the soft mould, which told us a very plain tale. He had evidently been carried down by two persons, one of whom had remarkably small feet and the other unusually large ones. On the whole, it was most probable that the silent Englishman, being less bold or less murderous than his companion, had assisted the woman to bear the unconscious man out of the way of danger.

"Well," said our engineer ruefully as we took our seats to return once more to London, "it has been a pretty business for me! I have lost my thumb and I have lost a fifty-guinea fee, and what have I gained?"

"Experience," said Holmes, laughing. "Indirectly it may be of value, you know; you have only to put it into words to gain the reputation of being excellent company for the remainder of your existence."

X.  THE ADVENTURE OF THE NOBLE BACHELOR


The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have long ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have eclipsed it, and their more piquant details have drawn the gossips away from this four-year-old drama. As I have reason to believe, however, that the full facts have never been revealed to the general public, and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a considerable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that no memoir of him would be complete without some little sketch of this remarkable episode.

It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came home from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table waiting for him. I had remained indoors all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal winds, and the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence. With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers until at last, saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon the envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend's noble correspondent could be.

"Here is a very fashionable epistle," I remarked as he entered. "Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a tide-waiter."

"Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety," he answered, smiling, "and the humbler are usually the more interesting. This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie."

He broke the seal and glanced over the contents.

"Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all."

"Not social, then?"

"No, distinctly professional."

"And from a noble client?"

"One of the highest in England."

"My dear fellow, I congratulate you."

"I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my client is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of his case. It is just possible, however, that that also may not be wanting in this new investigation. You have been reading the papers diligently of late, have you not?"

"It looks like it," said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in the corner. "I have had nothing else to do."

"It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. I read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column. The latter is always instructive. But if you have followed recent events so closely you must have read about Lord St. Simon and his wedding?"

"Oh, yes, with the deepest interest."

"That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord St. Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turn over these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter. This is what he says:

" 'MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:--Lord Backwater tells me that I may place implicit reliance upon your judgment and discretion. I have determined, therefore, to call upon you and to consult you in reference to the very painful event which has occurred in connection with my wedding. Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, is acting already in the matter, but he assures me that he sees no objection to your co-operation, and that he even thinks that it might be of some assistance. I will call at four o'clock in the afternoon, and, should you have any other engagement at that time, I hope that you will postpone it, as this matter is of paramount importance. Yours faithfully,


" 'ST. SIMON.'

"It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill pen, and the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of ink upon the outer side of his right little finger," remarked Holmes as he folded up the epistle.

"He says four o'clock. It is three now. He will be here in an hour."

"Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon the subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in their order of time, while I take a glance as to who our client is." He picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of reference beside the mantelpiece. "Here he is," said he, sitting down and flattening it out upon his knee. " 'Lord Robert Walsingham de Vere St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral.' Hum! 'Arms: Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess sable. Born in 1846.' He's forty-one years of age, which is mature for marriage. Was Under-Secretary for the colonies in a late administration. The Duke, his father, was at one time Secretary for Foreign Affairs. They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, and Tudor on the distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing very instructive in all this. I think that I must turn to you Watson, for something more solid."

"I have very little difficulty in finding what I want," said I, "for the facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me as remarkable. I feared to refer them to you, however, as I knew that you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked the intrusion of other matters."

"Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square furniture van. That is quite cleared up now--though, indeed, it was obvious from the first. Pray give me the results of your newspaper selections."

"Here is the first notice which I can find. It is in the personal column of the Morning Post, and dates, as you see, some weeks back: 'A marriage has been arranged,' it says, 'and will, if rumour is correct, very shortly take place, between Lord Robert St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty Doran, the only daughter of Aloysius Doran. Esq., of San Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.' That is all."

"Terse and to the point," remarked Holmes, stretching his long, thin legs towards the fire.

"There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society papers of the same week. Ah, here it is: 'There will soon be a call for protection in the marriage market, for the present free-trade principle appears to tell heavily against our home product. One by one the management of the noble houses of Great Britain is passing into the hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic. An important addition has been made during the last week to the list of the prizes which have been borne away by these charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, who has shown himself for over twenty years proof against the little god's arrows, has now definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hatty Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss Doran, whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much attention at the Westbury House festivities, is an only child, and it is currently reported that her dowry will run to considerably over the six figures, with expectancies for the future. As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few years, and as Lord St. Simon has no property of his own save the small estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious that the Californian heiress is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her to make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady to a British peeress.' "

"Anything else?" asked Holmes, yawning.

"Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the Morning Post to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it would be at St. George's, Hanover Square, that only half a dozen intimate friends would be invited, and that the party would return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been taken by Mr. Aloysius Doran. Two days later--that is, on Wednesday last--there is a curt announcement that the wedding had taken place, and that the honeymoon would be passed at Lord Backwater's place, near Petersfield. Those are all the notices which appeared before the disappearance of the bride."

"Before the what?" asked Holmes with a start.

"The vanishing of the lady."

"When did she vanish, then?"

"At the wedding breakfast."

"Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite dramatic, in fact."

"Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common."

"They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during the honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt as this. Pray let me have the details."

"I warn you that they are very incomplete."

"Perhaps we may make them less so."

"Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a morning paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is headed, 'Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding':

" 'The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which have taken place in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as shortly announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the previous morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently floating about. In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush the matter up, so much public attention has now been drawn to it that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what is a common subject for conversation.

" 'The ceremony, which was performed at St. George's, Hanover Square, was a very quiet one, no one being present save the father of the bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral, Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace and Lady Clara St. Simon (the younger brother and sister of the bridegroom), and Lady Alicia Whittington. The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been prepared. It appears that some little trouble was caused by a woman, whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavoured to force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only after a painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately entered the house before this unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast with the rest, when she complained of a sudden indisposition and retired to her room. Her prolonged absence having caused some comment, her father followed her, but learned from her maid that she had only come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One of the footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his mistress, believing her to be with the company. On ascertaining that his daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, in conjunction with the bridegroom, instantly put themselves in communication with the police, and very energetic inquiries are being made, which will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very singular business. Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing had transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There are rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or some other motive, she may have been concerned in the strange disappearance of the bride.' "

"And is that all?"

"Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is a suggestive one."

"And it is--"

"That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance, has actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole case is in your hands now--so far as it has been set forth in the public press."

"And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would not have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell, Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness, if only as a check to my own memory."

"Lord Robert St. Simon," announced our page-boy, throwing open the door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face, high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about the mouth, and with the steady, well-opened eye of a man whose pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be obeyed. His manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance gave an undue impression of age, for he had a slight forward stoop and a little bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too, as he swept off his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled round the edges and thin upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to the verge of foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white waistcoat, yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-coloured gaiters. He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from left to right, and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his golden eyeglasses.

"Good-day, Lord St. Simon," said Holmes, rising and bowing. "Pray take the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this matter over."

"A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you have already managed several delicate cases of this sort, sir, though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of society."

"No, I am descending."

"I beg pardon."

"My last client of the sort was a king."

"Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?"

"The King of Scandinavia."

"What! Had he lost his wife?"

"You can understand," said Holmes suavely, "that I extend to the affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to you in yours."

"Of course! Very right! very right! I'm sure I beg pardon. As to my own case, I am ready to give you any information which may assist you in forming an opinion."

"Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public prints, nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct--this article, for example, as to the disappearance of the bride."

Lord St. Simon glanced over it. "Yes, it is correct, as far as it goes."

"But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most directly by questioning you."

"Pray do so."

"When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?"

"In San Francisco, a year ago."

"You were travelling in the States?"

"Yes."

"Did you become engaged then?"

"No."

"But you were on a friendly footing?"

"I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was amused."

"Her father is very rich?"

"He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope."

"And how did he make his money?"

"In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold, invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds."

"Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady's--your wife's character?"

The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down into the fire. "You see, Mr. Holmes," said he, "my wife was twenty before her father became a rich man. During that time she ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or mountains, so that her education has come from Nature rather than from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in England a tomboy, with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any sort of traditions. She is impetuous--volcanic, I was about to say. She is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given her the name which I have the honour to bear"--he gave a little stately cough--"had I not thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that anything dishonourable would be repugnant to her."

"Have you her photograph?"

"I brought this with me." He opened a locket and showed us the full face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon.

"The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your acquaintance?"

"Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I met her several times, became engaged to her, and have now married her."

"She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?"

"A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family."

"And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a fait accompli?"

"I really have made no inquiries on the subject."

"Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the wedding?"

"Yes."

"Was she in good spirits?"

"Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our future lives."

"Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the wedding?"

"She was as bright as possible--at least until after the ceremony."

"And did you observe any change in her then?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible bearing upon the case."

"Pray let us have it, for all that."

"Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went towards the vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time, and it fell over into the pew. There was a moment's delay, but the gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again, and it did not appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in the carriage, on our way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause."

"Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of the general public were present, then?"

"Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is open."

"This gentleman was not one of your wife's friends?"

"No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite a common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point."

"Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do on re-entering her father's house?"

"I saw her in conversation with her maid."

"And who is her maid?"

"Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California with her."

"A confidential servant?"

"A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress allowed her to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America they look upon these things in a different way."

"How long did she speak to this Alice?"

"Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of."

"You did not overhear what they said?"

"Lady St. Simon said something about 'jumping a claim.' She was accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she meant."

"American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?"

"She walked into the breakfast-room."

"On your arm?"

"No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that. Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left the room. She never came back."

"But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to her room, covered her bride's dress with a long ulster, put on a bonnet, and went out."

"Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who had already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran's house that morning."

"Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady, and your relations to her."

Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. "We have been on a friendly footing for some years--I may say on a very friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just cause of complaint against me, but you know what women are, Mr. Holmes. Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful letters when she heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell the truth, the reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly was that I feared lest there might be a scandal in the church. She came to Mr. Doran's door just after we returned, and she endeavoured to push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions towards my wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen the possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again. She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a row."

"Did your wife hear all this?"

"No, thank goodness, she did not."

"And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?"

"Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as so serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid some terrible trap for her."

"Well, it is a possible supposition."

"You think so, too?"

"I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon this as likely?"

"I do not think Flora would hurt a fly."

"Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray what is your own theory as to what took place?"

"Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I have given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of this affair, the consciousness that she had made so immense a social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous disturbance in my wife."

"In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?"

"Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back--I will not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to without success--I can hardly explain it in any other fashion."

"Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis," said Holmes, smiling. "And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have nearly all my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the breakfast-table so that you could see out of the window?"

"We could see the other side of the road and the Park."

"Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer. I shall communicate with you."

"Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem," said our client, rising.

"I have solved it."

"Eh? What was that?"

"I say that I have solved it."

"Where, then, is my wife?"

"That is a detail which I shall speedily supply."

Lord St. Simon shook his head. "I am afraid that it will take wiser heads than yours or mine," he remarked, and bowing in a stately, old-fashioned manner he departed.

"It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by putting it on a level with his own," said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. "I think that I shall have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all this cross-questioning. I had formed my conclusions as to the case before our client came into the room."

"My dear Holmes!"

"I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I remarked before, which were quite as prompt. My whole examination served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial evidence is occasionally very convincing, as when you find a trout in the milk, to quote Thoreau's example."

"But I have heard all that you have heard."

"Without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing cases which serves me so well. There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some years back, and something on very much the same lines at Munich the year after the Franco-Prussian War. It is one of these cases--but, hullo, here is Lestrade! Good-afternoon, Lestrade! You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard, and there are cigars in the box."

The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket and cravat, which gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried a black canvas bag in his hand. With a short greeting he seated himself and lit the cigar which had been offered to him.

"What's up, then?" asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. "You look dissatisfied."

"And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage case. I can make neither head nor tail of the business."

"Really! You surprise me."

"Who ever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems to slip through my fingers. I have been at work upon it all day."

"And very wet it seems to have made you," said Holmes laying his hand upon the arm of the pea-jacket.

"Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine."

"In heaven's name, what for?"

"In search of the body of Lady St. Simon."

Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.

"Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?" he asked.

"Why? What do you mean?"

"Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in the one as in the other."

Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. "I suppose you know all about it," he snarled.

"Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made up."

"Oh, indeed! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in the matter?"

"I think it very unlikely."

"Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found this in it?" He opened his bag as he spoke, and tumbled onto the floor a wedding-dress of watered silk, a pair of white satin shoes and a bride's wreath and veil, all discoloured and soaked in water. "There," said he, putting a new wedding-ring upon the top of the pile. "There is a little nut for you to crack, Master Holmes."

"Oh, indeed!" said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. "You dragged them from the Serpentine?"

"No. They were found floating near the margin by a park-keeper. They have been identified as her clothes, and it seemed to me that if the clothes were there the body would not be far off."

"By the same brilliant reasoning, every man's body is to be found in the neighbourhood of his wardrobe. And pray what did you hope to arrive at through this?"

"At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance."

"I am afraid that you will find it difficult."

"Are you, indeed, now?" cried Lestrade with some bitterness. "I am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your deductions and your inferences. You have made two blunders in as many minutes. This dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar."

"And how?"

"In the dress is a pocket. In the pocket is a card-case. In the card-case is a note. And here is the very note." He slapped it down upon the table in front of him. "Listen to this: 'You will see me when all is ready. Come at once. F. H. M.' Now my theory all along has been that Lady St. Simon was decoyed away by Flora Millar, and that she, with confederates, no doubt, was responsible for her disappearance. Here, signed with her initials, is the very note which was no doubt quietly slipped into her hand at the door and which lured her within their reach."

"Very good, Lestrade," said Holmes, laughing. "You really are very fine indeed. Let me see it." He took up the paper in a listless way, but his attention instantly became riveted, and he gave a little cry of satisfaction. "This is indeed important," said he.

"Ha! you find it so?"

"Extremely so. I congratulate you warmly."

Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. "Why," he shrieked, "you're looking at the wrong side!"

"On the contrary, this is the right side."

"The right side? You're mad! Here is the note written in pencil over here."

"And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel bill, which interests me deeply."

"There's nothing in it. I looked at it before," said Lestrade. " 'Oct. 4th, rooms 8s., breakfast 2s. 6d., cocktail 1s., lunch 2s. 6d., glass sherry, 8d.' I see nothing in that."

"Very likely not. It is most important, all the same. As to the note, it is important also, or at least the initials are, so I congratulate you again."

"I've wasted time enough," said Lestrade, rising. "I believe in hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories. Good-day, Mr. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the bottom of the matter first." He gathered up the garments, thrust them into the bag, and made for the door.

"Just one hint to you, Lestrade," drawled Holmes before his rival vanished; "I will tell you the true solution of the matter. Lady St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has been, any such person."

Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me, tapped his forehead three times, shook his head solemnly, and hurried away.

He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes rose to put on his overcoat. "There is something in what the fellow says about outdoor work," he remarked, "so I think, Watson, that I must leave you to your papers for a little."

It was after five o'clock when Sherlock Holmes left me, but I had no time to be lonely, for within an hour there arrived a confectioner's man with a very large flat box. This he unpacked with the help of a youth whom he had brought with him, and presently, to my very great astonishment, a quite epicurean little cold supper began to be laid out upon our humble lodging-house mahogany. There were a couple of brace of cold woodcock, a pheasant, a pate de foie gras pie with a group of ancient and cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all these luxuries, my two visitors vanished away, like the genii of the Arabian Nights, with no explanation save that the things had been paid for and were ordered to this address.

Just before nine o'clock Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into the room. His features were gravely set, but there was a light in his eye which made me think that he had not been disappointed in his conclusions.

"They have laid the supper, then," he said, rubbing his hands.

"You seem to expect company. They have laid for five."

"Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in," said he. "I am surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived. Ha! I fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs."

It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features.

"My messenger reached you, then?" asked Holmes.

"Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure. Have you good authority for what you say?"

"The best possible."

Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his forehead.

"What will the Duke say," he murmured, "when he hears that one of the family has been subjected to such humiliation?"

"It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any humiliation."

"Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint."

"I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the lady could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she had no one to advise her at such a crisis."

"It was a slight, sir, a public slight," said Lord St. Simon, tapping his fingers upon the table.

"You must make allowance for this poor girl, placed in so unprecedented a position."

"I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I have been shamefully used."

"I think that I heard a ring," said Holmes. "Yes, there are steps on the landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view of the matter, Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate here who may be more successful." He opened the door and ushered in a lady and gentleman. "Lord St. Simon," said he "allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hay Moulton. The lady, I think, you have already met."

At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his seat and stood very erect, with his eyes cast down and his hand thrust into the breast of his frock-coat, a picture of offended dignity. The lady had taken a quick step forward and had held out her hand to him, but he still refused to raise his eyes. It was as well for his resolution, perhaps, for her pleading face was one which it was hard to resist.

"You're angry, Robert," said she. "Well, I guess you have every cause to be."

"Pray make no apology to me," said Lord St. Simon bitterly.

"Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I should have spoken to you before I went; but I was kind of rattled, and from the time when I saw Frank here again I just didn't know what I was doing or saying. I only wonder I didn't fall down and do a faint right there before the altar."

"Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave the room while you explain this matter?"

"If I may give an opinion," remarked the strange gentleman, "we've had just a little too much secrecy over this business already. For my part, I should like all Europe and America to hear the rights of it." He was a small, wiry, sunburnt man, clean-shaven, with a sharp face and alert manner.

"Then I'll tell our story right away," said the lady. "Frank here and I met in '84, in McQuire's camp, near the Rockies, where Pa was working a claim. We were engaged to each other, Frank and I; but then one day father struck a rich pocket and made a pile, while poor Frank here had a claim that petered out and came to nothing. The richer Pa grew the poorer was Frank; so at last Pa wouldn't hear of our engagement lasting any longer, and he took me away to 'Frisco. Frank wouldn't throw up his hand, though; so he followed me there, and he saw me without Pa knowing anything about it. It would only have made him mad to know, so we just fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that he would go and make his pile, too, and never come back to claim me until he had as much as Pa. So then I promised to wait for him to the end of time and pledged myself not to marry anyone else while he lived. 'Why shouldn't we be married right away, then,' said he, 'and then I will feel sure of you; and I won't claim to be your husband until I come back?' Well, we talked it over, and he had fixed it all up so nicely, with a clergyman all ready in waiting, that we just did it right there; and then Frank went off to seek his fortune, and I went back to Pa.

"The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana, and then he went prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of him from New Mexico. After that came a long newspaper story about how a miners' camp had been attacked by Apache Indians, and there was my Frank's name among the killed. I fainted dead away, and I was very sick for months after. Pa thought I had a decline and took me to half the doctors in 'Frisco. Not a word of news came for a year and more, so that I never doubted that Frank was really dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to 'Frisco, and we came to London, and a marriage was arranged, and Pa was very pleased, but I felt all the time that no man on this earth would ever take the place in my heart that had been given to my poor Frank.

"Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I'd have done my duty by him. We can't command our love, but we can our actions. I went to the altar with him with the intention to make him just as good a wife as it was in me to be. But you may imagine what I felt when, just as I came to the altar rails, I glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me out of the first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first; but when I looked again there he was still, with a kind of question in his eyes, as if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him. I wonder I didn't drop. I know that everything was turning round, and the words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee in my ear. I didn't know what to do. Should I stop the service and make a scene in the church? I glanced at him again, and he seemed to know what I was thinking, for he raised his finger to his lips to tell me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper, and I knew that he was writing me a note. As I passed his pew on the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him, and he slipped the note into my hand when he returned me the flowers. It was only a line asking me to join him when he made the sign to me to do so. Of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now to him, and I determined to do just whatever he might direct.

"When I got back I told my maid, who had known him in California, and had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but to get a few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I ought to have spoken to Lord St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard before his mother and all those great people. I just made up my mind to run away and explain afterwards. I hadn't been at the table ten minutes before I saw Frank out of the window at the other side of the road. He beckoned to me and then began walking into the Park. I slipped out, put on my things, and followed him. Some woman came talking something or other about Lord St. Simon to me--seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a little secret of his own before marriage also--but I managed to get away from her and soon overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and away we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square, and that was my true wedding after all those years of waiting. Frank had been a prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to 'Frisco, found that I had given him up for dead and had gone to England, followed me there, and had come upon me at last on the very morning of my second wedding."

"I saw it in a paper," explained the American. "It gave the name and the church but not where the lady lived."

"Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was all for openness, but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I should like to vanish away and never see any of them again--just sending a line to Pa, perhaps, to show him that I was alive. It was awful to me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting round that breakfast-table and waiting for me to come back. So Frank took my wedding-clothes and things and made a bundle of them, so that I should not be traced, and dropped them away somewhere where no one could find them. It is likely that we should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, only that this good gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came round to us this evening, though how he found us is more than I can think, and he showed us very clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was right, and that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so secret. Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord St. Simon alone, and so we came right away round to his rooms at once. Now, Robert, you have heard it all, and I am very sorry if I have given you pain, and I hope that you do not think very meanly of me."

Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but had listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this long narrative.

"Excuse me," he said, "but it is not my custom to discuss my most intimate personal affairs in this public manner."

"Then you won't forgive me? You won't shake hands before I go?"

"Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure." He put out his hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him.

"I had hoped," suggested Holmes, "that you would have joined us in a friendly supper."

"I think that there you ask a little too much," responded his Lordship. "I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent developments, but I can hardly be expected to make merry over them. I think that with your permission I will now wish you all a very good-night." He included us all in a sweeping bow and stalked out of the room.

"Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your company," said Sherlock Holmes. "It is always a joy to meet an American, Mr. Moulton, for I am one of those who believe that the folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes."

"The case has been an interesting one," remarked Holmes when our visitors had left us, "because it serves to show very clearly how simple the explanation may be of an affair which at first sight seems to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could be more natural than the sequence of events as narrated by this lady, and nothing stranger than the result when viewed, for instance, by Mr. Lestrade of Scotland Yard."

"You were not yourself at fault at all, then?"

"From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one that the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, the other that she had repented of it within a few minutes of returning home. Obviously something had occurred during the morning, then, to cause her to change her mind. What could that something be? She could not have spoken to anyone when she was out, for she had been in the company of the bridegroom. Had she seen someone, then? If she had, it must be someone from America because she had spent so short a time in this country that she could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep an influence over her that the mere sight of him would induce her to change her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived, by a process of exclusion, at the idea that she might have seen an American. Then who could this American be, and why should he possess so much influence over her? It might be a lover; it might be a husband. Her young womanhood had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes and under strange conditions. So far I had got before I ever heard Lord St. Simon's narrative. When he told us of a man in a pew, of the change in the bride's manner, of so transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a bouquet, of her resort to her confidential maid, and of her very significant allusion to claim-jumping--which in miners' parlance means taking possession of that which another person has a prior claim to--the whole situation became absolutely clear. She had gone off with a man, and the man was either a lover or was a previous husband--the chances being in favour of the latter."

"And how in the world did you find them?"

"It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held information in his hands the value of which he did not himself know. The initials were, of course, of the highest importance, but more valuable still was it to know that within a week he had settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels."

"How did you deduce the select?"

"By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels. There are not many in London which charge at that rate. In the second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I learned by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton, an American gentleman, had left only the day before, and on looking over the entries against him, I came upon the very items which I had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and being fortunate enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give them some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be better in every way that they should make their position a little clearer both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in particular. I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I made him keep the appointment."

"But with no very good result," I remarked. "His conduct was certainly not very gracious."

"Ah, Watson," said Holmes, smiling, "perhaps you would not be very gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and wedding, you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of fortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifully and thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same position. Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings."

XI.  THE ADVENTURE OF THE BERYL CORONET


"Holmes," said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking down the street, "here is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad that his relatives should allow him to come out alone."

My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands in the pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder. It was a bright, crisp February morning, and the snow of the day before still lay deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun. Down the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed into a brown crumbly band by the traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of the foot-paths it still lay as white as when it fell. The grey pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but was still dangerously slippery, so that there were fewer passengers than usual. Indeed, from the direction of the Metropolitan Station no one was coming save the single gentleman whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention.

He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat, neat brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet his actions were in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress and features, for he was running hard, with occasional little springs, such as a weary man gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs. As he ran he jerked his hands up and down, waggled his head, and writhed his face into the most extraordinary contortions.

"What on earth can be the matter with him?" I asked. "He is looking up at the numbers of the houses."

"I believe that he is coming here," said Holmes, rubbing his hands.

"Here?"

"Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?" As he spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at our bell until the whole house resounded with the clanging.

A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in his eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and pity. For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat his head against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon him and tore him away to the centre of the room. Sherlock Holmes pushed him down into the easy-chair and, sitting beside him, patted his hand and chatted with him in the easy, soothing tones which he knew so well how to employ.

"You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?" said he. "You are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have recovered yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into any little problem which you may submit to me."

The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his brow, set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us.

"No doubt you think me mad?" said he.

"I see that you have had some great trouble," responded Holmes.

"God knows I have!--a trouble which is enough to unseat my reason, so sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might have faced, although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain. Private affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming together, and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. The very noblest in the land may suffer unless some way be found out of this horrible affair."

"Pray compose yourself, sir," said Holmes, "and let me have a clear account of who you are and what it is that has befallen you."

"My name," answered our visitor, "is probably familiar to your ears. I am Alexander Holder, of the banking firm of Holder & Stevenson, of Threadneedle Street."

The name was indeed well known to us as belonging to the senior partner in the second largest private banking concern in the City of London. What could have happened, then, to bring one of the foremost citizens of London to this most pitiable pass? We waited, all curiosity, until with another effort he braced himself to tell his story.

"I feel that time is of value," said he; "that is why I hastened here when the police inspector suggested that I should secure your co-operation. I came to Baker Street by the Underground and hurried from there on foot, for the cabs go slowly through this snow. That is why I was so out of breath, for I am a man who takes very little exercise. I feel better now, and I will put the facts before you as shortly and yet as clearly as I can.

"It is, of course, well known to you that in a successful banking business as much depends upon our being able to find remunerative investments for our funds as upon our increasing our connection and the number of our depositors. One of our most lucrative means of laying out money is in the shape of loans, where the security is unimpeachable. We have done a good deal in this direction during the last few years, and there are many noble families to whom we have advanced large sums upon the security of their pictures, libraries, or plate.

"Yesterday morning I was seated in my office at the bank when a card was brought in to me by one of the clerks. I started when I saw the name, for it was that of none other than--well, perhaps even to you I had better say no more than that it was a name which is a household word all over the earth--one of the highest, noblest, most exalted names in England. I was overwhelmed by the honour and attempted, when he entered, to say so, but he plunged at once into business with the air of a man who wishes to hurry quickly through a disagreeable task.

" 'Mr. Holder,' said he, 'I have been informed that you are in the habit of advancing money.'

" 'The firm does so when the security is good.' I answered.

" 'It is absolutely essential to me,' said he, 'that I should have $50,000 at once. I could, of course, borrow so trifling a sum ten times over from my friends, but I much prefer to make it a matter of business and to carry out that business myself. In my position you can readily understand that it is unwise to place one's self under obligations.'

" 'For how long, may I ask, do you want this sum?' I asked.

" 'Next Monday I have a large sum due to me, and I shall then most certainly repay what you advance, with whatever interest you think it right to charge. But it is very essential to me that the money should be paid at once.'

" 'I should be happy to advance it without further parley from my own private purse,' said I, 'were it not that the strain would be rather more than it could bear. If, on the other hand, I am to do it in the name of the firm, then in justice to my partner I must insist that, even in your case, every businesslike precaution should be taken.'

" 'I should much prefer to have it so,' said he, raising up a square, black morocco case which he had laid beside his chair. 'You have doubtless heard of the Beryl Coronet?'

" 'One of the most precious public possessions of the empire,' said I.

" 'Precisely.' He opened the case, and there, imbedded in soft, flesh-coloured velvet, lay the magnificent piece of jewellery which he had named. 'There are thirty-nine enormous beryls,' said he, 'and the price of the gold chasing is incalculable. The lowest estimate would put the worth of the coronet at double the sum which I have asked. I am prepared to leave it with you as my security.'

"I took the precious case into my hands and looked in some perplexity from it to my illustrious client.

" 'You doubt its value?' he asked.

" 'Not at all. I only doubt--'

" 'The propriety of my leaving it. You may set your mind at rest about that. I should not dream of doing so were it not absolutely certain that I should be able in four days to reclaim it. It is a pure matter of form. Is the security sufficient?'

" 'Ample.'

" 'You understand, Mr. Holder, that I am giving you a strong proof of the confidence which I have in you, founded upon all that I have heard of you. I rely upon you not only to be discreet and to refrain from all gossip upon the matter but, above all, to preserve this coronet with every possible precaution because I need not say that a great public scandal would be caused if any harm were to befall it. Any injury to it would be almost as serious as its complete loss, for there are no beryls in the world to match these, and it would be impossible to replace them. I leave it with you, however, with every confidence, and I shall call for it in person on Monday morning.'

"Seeing that my client was anxious to leave, I said no more but, calling for my cashier, I ordered him to pay over fifty $1000 notes. When I was alone once more, however, with the precious case lying upon the table in front of me, I could not but think with some misgivings of the immense responsibility which it entailed upon me. There could be no doubt that, as it was a national possession, a horrible scandal would ensue if any misfortune should occur to it. I already regretted having ever consented to take charge of it. However, it was too late to alter the matter now, so I locked it up in my private safe and turned once more to my work.

"When evening came I felt that it would be an imprudence to leave so precious a thing in the office behind me. Bankers' safes had been forced before now, and why should not mine be? If so, how terrible would be the position in which I should find myself! I determined, therefore, that for the next few days I would always carry the case backward and forward with me, so that it might never be really out of my reach. With this intention, I called a cab and drove out to my house at Streatham, carrying the jewel with me. I did not breathe freely until I had taken it upstairs and locked it in the bureau of my dressing-room.

"And now a word as to my household, Mr. Holmes, for I wish you to thoroughly understand the situation. My groom and my page sleep out of the house, and may be set aside altogether. I have three maid-servants who have been with me a number of years and whose absolute reliability is quite above suspicion. Another, Lucy Parr, the second waiting-maid, has only been in my service a few months. She came with an excellent character, however, and has always given me satisfaction. She is a very pretty girl and has attracted admirers who have occasionally hung about the place. That is the only drawback which we have found to her, but we believe her to be a thoroughly good girl in every way.

"So much for the servants. My family itself is so small that it will not take me long to describe it. I am a widower and have an only son, Arthur. He has been a disappointment to me, Mr. Holmes--a grievous disappointment. I have no doubt that I am myself to blame. People tell me that I have spoiled him. Very likely I have. When my dear wife died I felt that he was all I had to love. I could not bear to see the smile fade even for a moment from his face. I have never denied him a wish. Perhaps it would have been better for both of us had I been sterner, but I meant it for the best.

"It was naturally my intention that he should succeed me in my business, but he was not of a business turn. He was wild, wayward, and, to speak the truth, I could not trust him in the handling of large sums of money. When he was young he became a member of an aristocratic club, and there, having charming manners, he was soon the intimate of a number of men with long purses and expensive habits. He learned to play heavily at cards and to squander money on the turf, until he had again and again to come to me and implore me to give him an advance upon his allowance, that he might settle his debts of honour. He tried more than once to break away from the dangerous company which he was keeping, but each time the influence of his friend, Sir George Burnwell, was enough to draw him back again.

"And, indeed, I could not wonder that such a man as Sir George Burnwell should gain an influence over him, for he has frequently brought him to my house, and I have found myself that I could hardly resist the fascination of his manner. He is older than Arthur, a man of the world to his finger-tips, one who had been everywhere, seen everything, a brilliant talker, and a man of great personal beauty. Yet when I think of him in cold blood, far away from the glamour of his presence, I am convinced from his cynical speech and the look which I have caught in his eyes that he is one who should be deeply distrusted. So I think, and so, too, thinks my little Mary, who has a woman's quick insight into character.

"And now there is only she to be described. She is my niece; but when my brother died five years ago and left her alone in the world I adopted her, and have looked upon her ever since as my daughter. She is a sunbeam in my house--sweet, loving, beautiful, a wonderful manager and housekeeper, yet as tender and quiet and gentle as a woman could be. She is my right hand. I do not know what I could do without her. In only one matter has she ever gone against my wishes. Twice my boy has asked her to marry him, for he loves her devotedly, but each time she has refused him. I think that if anyone could have drawn him into the right path it would have been she, and that his marriage might have changed his whole life; but now, alas! it is too late--forever too late!

"Now, Mr. Holmes, you know the people who live under my roof, and I shall continue with my miserable story.

"When we were taking coffee in the drawing-room that night after dinner, I told Arthur and Mary my experience, and of the precious treasure which we had under our roof, suppressing only the name of my client. Lucy Parr, who had brought in the coffee, had, I am sure, left the room; but I cannot swear that the door was closed. Mary and Arthur were much interested and wished to see the famous coronet, but I thought it better not to disturb it.

" 'Where have you put it?' asked Arthur.

" 'In my own bureau.'

" 'Well, I hope to goodness the house won't be burgled during the night.' said he.

" 'It is locked up,' I answered.

" 'Oh, any old key will fit that bureau. When I was a youngster I have opened it myself with the key of the box-room cupboard.'

"He often had a wild way of talking, so that I thought little of what he said. He followed me to my room, however, that night with a very grave face.

" 'Look here, dad,' said he with his eyes cast down, 'can you let me have $200?'

" 'No, I cannot!' I answered sharply. 'I have been far too generous with you in money matters.'

" 'You have been very kind,' said he, 'but I must have this money, or else I can never show my face inside the club again.'

" 'And a very good thing, too!' I cried.

" 'Yes, but you would not have me leave it a dishonoured man,' said he. 'I could not bear the disgrace. I must raise the money in some way, and if you will not let me have it, then I must try other means.'

"I was very angry, for this was the third demand during the month. 'You shall not have a farthing from me,' I cried, on which he bowed and left the room without another word.

"When he was gone I unlocked my bureau, made sure that my treasure was safe, and locked it again. Then I started to go round the house to see that all was secure--a duty which I usually leave to Mary but which I thought it well to perform myself that night. As I came down the stairs I saw Mary herself at the side window of the hall, which she closed and fastened as I approached.

" 'Tell me, dad,' said she, looking, I thought, a little disturbed, 'did you give Lucy, the maid, leave to go out to-night?'

" 'Certainly not.'

" 'She came in just now by the back door. I have no doubt that she has only been to the side gate to see someone, but I think that it is hardly safe and should be stopped.'

" 'You must speak to her in the morning, or I will if you prefer it. Are you sure that everything is fastened?'

" 'Quite sure, dad.'

" 'Then, good-night.' I kissed her and went up to my bedroom again, where I was soon asleep.

"I am endeavouring to tell you everything, Mr. Holmes, which may have any bearing upon the case, but I beg that you will question me upon any point which I do not make clear."

"On the contrary, your statement is singularly lucid."

"I come to a part of my story now in which I should wish to be particularly so. I am not a very heavy sleeper, and the anxiety in my mind tended, no doubt, to make me even less so than usual. About two in the morning, then, I was awakened by some sound in the house. It had ceased ere I was wide awake, but it had left an impression behind it as though a window had gently closed somewhere. I lay listening with all my ears. Suddenly, to my horror, there was a distinct sound of footsteps moving softly in the next room. I slipped out of bed, all palpitating with fear, and peeped round the corner of my dressing-room door.

" 'Arthur!' I screamed, 'you villain! you thief! How dare you touch that coronet?'

"The gas was half up, as I had left it, and my unhappy boy, dressed only in his shirt and trousers, was standing beside the light, holding the coronet in his hands. He appeared to be wrenching at it, or bending it with all his strength. At my cry he dropped it from his grasp and turned as pale as death. I snatched it up and examined it. One of the gold corners, with three of the beryls in it, was missing.

" 'You blackguard!' I shouted, beside myself with rage. 'You have destroyed it! You have dishonoured me forever! Where are the jewels which you have stolen?'

" 'Stolen!' he cried.

" 'Yes, thief!' I roared, shaking him by the shoulder.

" 'There are none missing. There cannot be any missing,' said he.

" 'There are three missing. And you know where they are. Must I call you a liar as well as a thief? Did I not see you trying to tear off another piece?'

" 'You have called me names enough,' said he, 'I will not stand it any longer. I shall not say another word about this business, since you have chosen to insult me. I will leave your house in the morning and make my own way in the world.'

" 'You shall leave it in the hands of the police!' I cried half-mad with grief and rage. 'I shall have this matter probed to the bottom.'

" 'You shall learn nothing from me,' said he with a passion such as I should not have thought was in his nature. 'If you choose to call the police, let the police find what they can.'

"By this time the whole house was astir, for I had raised my voice in my anger. Mary was the first to rush into my room, and, at the sight of the coronet and of Arthur's face, she read the whole story and, with a scream, fell down senseless on the ground. I sent the house-maid for the police and put the investigation into their hands at once. When the inspector and a constable entered the house, Arthur, who had stood sullenly with his arms folded, asked me whether it was my intention to charge him with theft. I answered that it had ceased to be a private matter, but had become a public one, since the ruined coronet was national property. I was determined that the law should have its way in everything.

" 'At least,' said he, 'you will not have me arrested at once. It would be to your advantage as well as mine if I might leave the house for five minutes.'

" 'That you may get away, or perhaps that you may conceal what you have stolen,' said I. And then, realising the dreadful position in which I was placed, I implored him to remember that not only my honour but that of one who was far greater than I was at stake; and that he threatened to raise a scandal which would convulse the nation. He might avert it all if he would but tell me what he had done with the three missing stones.

" 'You may as well face the matter,' said I; 'you have been caught in the act, and no confession could make your guilt more heinous. If you but make such reparation as is in your power, by telling us where the beryls are, all shall be forgiven and forgotten.'

" 'Keep your forgiveness for those who ask for it,' he answered, turning away from me with a sneer. I saw that he was too hardened for any words of mine to influence him. There was but one way for it. I called in the inspector and gave him into custody. A search was made at once not only of his person but of his room and of every portion of the house where he could possibly have concealed the gems; but no trace of them could be found, nor would the wretched boy open his mouth for all our persuasions and our threats. This morning he was removed to a cell, and I, after going through all the police formalities, have hurried round to you to implore you to use your skill in unravelling the matter. The police have openly confessed that they can at present make nothing of it. You may go to any expense which you think necessary. I have already offered a reward of $1000. My God, what shall I do! I have lost my honour, my gems, and my son in one night. Oh, what shall I do!"

He put a hand on either side of his head and rocked himself to and fro, droning to himself like a child whose grief has got beyond words.

Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes, with his brows knitted and his eyes fixed upon the fire.

"Do you receive much company?" he asked.

"None save my partner with his family and an occasional friend of Arthur's. Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately. No one else, I think."

"Do you go out much in society?"

"Arthur does. Mary and I stay at home. We neither of us care for it."

"That is unusual in a young girl."

"She is of a quiet nature. Besides, she is not so very young. She is four-and-twenty."

"This matter, from what you say, seems to have been a shock to her also."

"Terrible! She is even more affected than I."

"You have neither of you any doubt as to your son's guilt?"

"How can we have when I saw him with my own eyes with the coronet in his hands."

"I hardly consider that a conclusive proof. Was the remainder of the coronet at all injured?"

"Yes, it was twisted."

"Do you not think, then, that he might have been trying to straighten it?"

"God bless you! You are doing what you can for him and for me. But it is too heavy a task. What was he doing there at all? If his purpose were innocent, why did he not say so?"

"Precisely. And if it were guilty, why did he not invent a lie? His silence appears to me to cut both ways. There are several singular points about the case. What did the police think of the noise which awoke you from your sleep?"

"They considered that it might be caused by Arthur's closing his bedroom door."

"A likely story! As if a man bent on felony would slam his door so as to wake a household. What did they say, then, of the disappearance of these gems?"

"They are still sounding the planking and probing the furniture in the hope of finding them."

"Have they thought of looking outside the house?"

"Yes, they have shown extraordinary energy. The whole garden has already been minutely examined."

"Now, my dear sir," said Holmes. "is it not obvious to you now that this matter really strikes very much deeper than either you or the police were at first inclined to think? It appeared to you to be a simple case; to me it seems exceedingly complex. Consider what is involved by your theory. You suppose that your son came down from his bed, went, at great risk, to your dressing-room, opened your bureau, took out your coronet, broke off by main force a small portion of it, went off to some other place, concealed three gems out of the thirty-nine, with such skill that nobody can find them, and then returned with the other thirty-six into the room in which he exposed himself to the greatest danger of being discovered. I ask you now, is such a theory tenable?"

"But what other is there?" cried the banker with a gesture of despair. "If his motives were innocent, why does he not explain them?"

"It is our task to find that out," replied Holmes; "so now, if you please, Mr. Holder, we will set off for Streatham together, and devote an hour to glancing a little more closely into details."

My friend insisted upon my accompanying them in their expedition, which I was eager enough to do, for my curiosity and sympathy were deeply stirred by the story to which we had listened. I confess that the guilt of the banker's son appeared to me to be as obvious as it did to his unhappy father, but still I had such faith in Holmes' judgment that I felt that there must be some grounds for hope as long as he was dissatisfied with the accepted explanation. He hardly spoke a word the whole way out to the southern suburb, but sat with his chin upon his breast and his hat drawn over his eyes, sunk in the deepest thought. Our client appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little glimpse of hope which had been presented to him, and he even broke into a desultory chat with me over his business affairs. A short railway journey and a shorter walk brought us to Fairbank, the modest residence of the great financier.

Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, standing back a little from the road. A double carriage-sweep, with a snow-clad lawn, stretched down in front to two large iron gates which closed the entrance. On the right side was a small wooden thicket, which led into a narrow path between two neat hedges stretching from the road to the kitchen door, and forming the tradesmen's entrance. On the left ran a lane which led to the stables, and was not itself within the grounds at all, being a public, though little used, thoroughfare. Holmes left us standing at the door and walked slowly all round the house, across the front, down the tradesmen's path, and so round by the garden behind into the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder and I went into the dining-room and waited by the fire until he should return. We were sitting there in silence when the door opened and a young lady came in. She was rather above the middle height, slim, with dark hair and eyes, which seemed the darker against the absolute pallor of her skin. I do not think that I have ever seen such deadly paleness in a woman's face. Her lips, too, were bloodless, but her eyes were flushed with crying. As she swept silently into the room she impressed me with a greater sense of grief than the banker had done in the morning, and it was the more striking in her as she was evidently a woman of strong character, with immense capacity for self-restraint. Disregarding my presence, she went straight to her uncle and passed her hand over his head with a sweet womanly caress.

"You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated, have you not, dad?" she asked.

"No, no, my girl, the matter must be probed to the bottom."

"But I am so sure that he is innocent. You know what woman's instincts are. I know that he has done no harm and that you will be sorry for having acted so harshly."

"Why is he silent, then, if he is innocent?"

"Who knows? Perhaps because he was so angry that you should suspect him."

"How could I help suspecting him, when I actually saw him with the coronet in his hand?"

"Oh, but he had only picked it up to look at it. Oh, do, do take my word for it that he is innocent. Let the matter drop and say no more. It is so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in prison!"

"I shall never let it drop until the gems are found--never, Mary! Your affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful consequences to me. Far from hushing the thing up, I have brought a gentleman down from London to inquire more deeply into it."

"This gentleman?" she asked, facing round to me.

"No, his friend. He wished us to leave him alone. He is round in the stable lane now."

"The stable lane?" She raised her dark eyebrows. "What can he hope to find there? Ah! this, I suppose, is he. I trust, sir, that you will succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth, that my cousin Arthur is innocent of this crime."

"I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with you, that we may prove it," returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the snow from his shoes. "I believe I have the honour of addressing Miss Mary Holder. Might I ask you a question or two?"

"Pray do, sir, if it may help to clear this horrible affair up."

"You heard nothing yourself last night?"

"Nothing, until my uncle here began to speak loudly. I heard that, and I came down."

"You shut up the windows and doors the night before. Did you fasten all the windows?"

"Yes."

"Were they all fastened this morning?"

"Yes."

"You have a maid who has a sweetheart? I think that you remarked to your uncle last night that she had been out to see him?"

"Yes, and she was the girl who waited in the drawing-room, and who may have heard uncle's remarks about the coronet."

"I see. You infer that she may have gone out to tell her sweetheart, and that the two may have planned the robbery."

"But what is the good of all these vague theories," cried the banker impatiently, "when I have told you that I saw Arthur with the coronet in his hands?"

"Wait a little, Mr. Holder. We must come back to that. About this girl, Miss Holder. You saw her return by the kitchen door, I presume?"

"Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the night I met her slipping in. I saw the man, too, in the gloom."

"Do you know him?"

"Oh, yes! he is the green-grocer who brings our vegetables round. His name is Francis Prosper."

"He stood," said Holmes, "to the left of the door--that is to say, farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door?"

"Yes, he did."

"And he is a man with a wooden leg?"

Something like fear sprang up in the young lady's expressive black eyes. "Why, you are like a magician," said she. "How do you know that?" She smiled, but there was no answering smile in Holmes' thin, eager face.

"I should be very glad now to go upstairs," said he. "I shall probably wish to go over the outside of the house again. Perhaps I had better take a look at the lower windows before I go up."

He walked swiftly round from one to the other, pausing only at the large one which looked from the hall onto the stable lane. This he opened and made a very careful examination of the sill with his powerful magnifying lens. "Now we shall go upstairs," said he at last.

The banker's dressing-room was a plainly furnished little chamber, with a grey carpet, a large bureau, and a long mirror. Holmes went to the bureau first and looked hard at the lock.

"Which key was used to open it?" he asked.

"That which my son himself indicated--that of the cupboard of the lumber-room."

"Have you it here?"

"That is it on the dressing-table."

Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau.

"It is a noiseless lock," said he. "It is no wonder that it did not wake you. This case, I presume, contains the coronet. We must have a look at it." He opened the case, and taking out the diadem he laid it upon the table. It was a magnificent specimen of the jeweller's art, and the thirty-six stones were the finest that I have ever seen. At one side of the coronet was a cracked edge, where a corner holding three gems had been torn away.

"Now, Mr. Holder," said Holmes, "here is the corner which corresponds to that which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I beg that you will break it off."

The banker recoiled in horror. "I should not dream of trying," said he.

"Then I will." Holmes suddenly bent his strength upon it, but without result. "I feel it give a little," said he; "but, though I am exceptionally strong in the fingers, it would take me all my time to break it. An ordinary man could not do it. Now, what do you think would happen if I did break it, Mr. Holder? There would be a noise like a pistol shot. Do you tell me that all this happened within a few yards of your bed and that you heard nothing of it?"

"I do not know what to think. It is all dark to me."

"But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go. What do you think, Miss Holder?"

"I confess that I still share my uncle's perplexity."

"Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you saw him?"

"He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt."

"Thank you. We have certainly been favoured with extraordinary luck during this inquiry, and it will be entirely our own fault if we do not succeed in clearing the matter up. With your permission, Mr. Holder, I shall now continue my investigations outside."

He went alone, at his own request, for he explained that any unnecessary footmarks might make his task more difficult. For an hour or more he was at work, returning at last with his feet heavy with snow and his features as inscrutable as ever.

"I think that I have seen now all that there is to see, Mr. Holder," said he; "I can serve you best by returning to my rooms."

"But the gems, Mr. Holmes. Where are they?"

"I cannot tell."

The banker wrung his hands. "I shall never see them again!" he cried. "And my son? You give me hopes?"

"My opinion is in no way altered."

"Then, for God's sake, what was this dark business which was acted in my house last night?"

"If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to-morrow morning between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can to make it clearer. I understand that you give me carte blanche to act for you, provided only that I get back the gems, and that you place no limit on the sum I may draw."

"I would give my fortune to have them back."

"Very good. I shall look into the matter between this and then. Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over here again before evening."

It was obvious to me that my companion's mind was now made up about the case, although what his conclusions were was more than I could even dimly imagine. Several times during our homeward journey I endeavoured to sound him upon the point, but he always glided away to some other topic, until at last I gave it over in despair. It was not yet three when we found ourselves in our rooms once more. He hurried to his chamber and was down again in a few minutes dressed as a common loafer. With his collar turned up, his shiny, seedy coat, his red cravat, and his worn boots, he was a perfect sample of the class.

"I think that this should do," said he, glancing into the glass above the fireplace. "I only wish that you could come with me, Watson, but I fear that it won't do. I may be on the trail in this matter, or I may be following a will-o'-the-wisp, but I shall soon know which it is. I hope that I may be back in a few hours." He cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard, sandwiched it between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this rude meal into his pocket he started off upon his expedition.

I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in excellent spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his hand. He chucked it down into a corner and helped himself to a cup of tea.

"I only looked in as I passed," said he. "I am going right on."

"Where to?"

"Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may be some time before I get back. Don't wait up for me in case I should be late."

"How are you getting on?"

"Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been out to Streatham since I saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It is a very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for a good deal. However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must get these disreputable clothes off and return to my highly respectable self."

I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for satisfaction than his words alone would imply. His eyes twinkled, and there was even a touch of colour upon his sallow cheeks. He hastened upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the slam of the hall door, which told me that he was off once more upon his congenial hunt.

I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that his lateness caused me no surprise. I do not know at what hour he came in, but when I came down to breakfast in the morning there he was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the other, as fresh and trim as possible.

"You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson," said he, "but you remember that our client has rather an early appointment this morning."

"Why, it is after nine now," I answered. "I should not be surprised if that were he. I thought I heard a ring."

It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in, while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter. He entered with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful than his violence of the morning before, and he dropped heavily into the armchair which I pushed forward for him.

"I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried," said he. "Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonoured age. One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has deserted me."

"Deserted you?"

"Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in, her room was empty, and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said to her last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had married my boy all might have been well with him. Perhaps it was thoughtless of me to say so. It is to that remark that she refers in this note:

" 'MY DEAREST UNCLE:--I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, and that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune might never have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must leave you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is provided for; and, above all, do not search for me, for it will be fruitless labour and an ill-service to me. In life or in death, I am ever your loving


" 'MARY.'

"What could she mean by that note, Mr. Holmes? Do you think it points to suicide?"

"No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible solution. I trust, Mr. Holder, that you are nearing the end of your troubles."

"Ha! You say so! You have heard something, Mr. Holmes; you have learned something! Where are the gems?"

"You would not think $1000 apiece an excessive sum for them?"

"I would pay ten."

"That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter. And there is a little reward, I fancy. Have you your check-book? Here is a pen. Better make it out for $4000."

With a dazed face the banker made out the required check. Holmes walked over to his desk, took out a little triangular piece of gold with three gems in it, and threw it down upon the table.

With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up.

"You have it!" he gasped. "I am saved! I am saved!"

The reaction of joy was as passionate as his grief had been, and he hugged his recovered gems to his bosom.

"There is one other thing you owe, Mr. Holder," said Sherlock Holmes rather sternly.

"Owe!" He caught up a pen. "Name the sum, and I will pay it."

"No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have one."

"Then it was not Arthur who took them?"

"I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not."

"You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him know that the truth is known."

"He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an interview with him, and finding that he would not tell me the story, I told it to him, on which he had to confess that I was right and to add the very few details which were not yet quite clear to me. Your news of this morning, however, may open his lips."

"For heaven's sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary mystery!"

"I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached it. And let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me to say and for you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir George Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now fled together."

"My Mary? Impossible!"

"It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you admitted him into your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in England--a ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man without heart or conscience. Your niece knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his vows to her, as he had done to a hundred before her, she flattered herself that she alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what he said, but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing him nearly every evening."

"I cannot, and I will not, believe it!" cried the banker with an ashen face.

"I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night. Your niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room, slipped down and talked to her lover through the window which leads into the stable lane. His footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had he stood there. She told him of the coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and he bent her to his will. I have no doubt that she loved you, but there are women in whom the love of a lover extinguishes all other loves, and I think that she must have been one. She had hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you coming downstairs, on which she closed the window rapidly and told you about one of the servants' escapade with her wooden-legged lover, which was all perfectly true.

"Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview with you but he slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts. In the middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door, so he rose and, looking out, was surprised to see his cousin walking very stealthily along the passage until she disappeared into your dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment, the lad slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to see what would come of this strange affair. Presently she emerged from the room again, and in the light of the passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious coronet in her hands. She passed down the stairs, and he, thrilling with horror, ran along and slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence he could see what passed in the hall beneath. He saw her stealthily open the window, hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to her room, passing quite close to where he stood hid behind the curtain.

"As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the instant that she was gone he realised how crushing a misfortune this would be for you, and how all-important it was to set it right. He rushed down, just as he was, in his bare feet, opened the window, sprang out into the snow, and ran down the lane, where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight. Sir George Burnwell tried to get away, but Arthur caught him, and there was a struggle between them, your lad tugging at one side of the coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the scuffle, your son struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something suddenly snapped, and your son, finding that he had the coronet in his hands, rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your room, and had just observed that the coronet had been twisted in the struggle and was endeavouring to straighten it when you appeared upon the scene."

"Is it possible?" gasped the banker.

"You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when he felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who certainly deserved little enough consideration at his hands. He took the more chivalrous view, however, and preserved her secret."

"And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the coronet," cried Mr. Holder. "Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have been! And his asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes! The dear fellow wanted to see if the missing piece were at the scene of the struggle. How cruelly I have misjudged him!"

"When I arrived at the house," continued Holmes, "I at once went very carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in the snow which might help me. I knew that none had fallen since the evening before, and also that there had been a strong frost to preserve impressions. I passed along the tradesmen's path, but found it all trampled down and indistinguishable. Just beyond it, however, at the far side of the kitchen door, a woman had stood and talked with a man, whose round impressions on one side showed that he had a wooden leg. I could even tell that they had been disturbed, for the woman had run back swiftly to the door, as was shown by the deep toe and light heel marks, while Wooden-leg had waited a little, and then had gone away. I thought at the time that this might be the maid and her sweetheart, of whom you had already spoken to me, and inquiry showed it was so. I passed round the garden without seeing anything more than random tracks, which I took to be the police; but when I got into the stable lane a very long and complex story was written in the snow in front of me.

"There was a double line of tracks of a booted man, and a second double line which I saw with delight belonged to a man with naked feet. I was at once convinced from what you had told me that the latter was your son. The first had walked both ways, but the other had run swiftly, and as his tread was marked in places over the depression of the boot, it was obvious that he had passed after the other. I followed them up and found they led to the hall window, where Boots had worn all the snow away while waiting. Then I walked to the other end, which was a hundred yards or more down the lane. I saw where Boots had faced round, where the snow was cut up as though there had been a struggle, and, finally, where a few drops of blood had fallen, to show me that I was not mistaken. Boots had then run down the lane, and another little smudge of blood showed that it was he who had been hurt. When he came to the highroad at the other end, I found that the pavement had been cleared, so there was an end to that clue.

"On entering the house, however, I examined, as you remember, the sill and framework of the hall window with my lens, and I could at once see that someone had passed out. I could distinguish the outline of an instep where the wet foot had been placed in coming in. I was then beginning to be able to form an opinion as to what had occurred. A man had waited outside the window; someone had brought the gems; the deed had been overseen by your son; he had pursued the thief; had struggled with him; they had each tugged at the coronet, their united strength causing injuries which neither alone could have effected. He had returned with the prize, but had left a fragment in the grasp of his opponent. So far I was clear. The question now was, who was the man and who was it brought him the coronet?

"It is an old maxim of mine that when you have excluded the impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must be the truth. Now, I knew that it was not you who had brought it down, so there only remained your niece and the maids. But if it were the maids, why should your son allow himself to be accused in their place? There could be no possible reason. As he loved his cousin, however, there was an excellent explanation why he should retain her secret--the more so as the secret was a disgraceful one. When I remembered that you had seen her at that window, and how she had fainted on seeing the coronet again, my conjecture became a certainty.

"And who could it be who was her confederate? A lover evidently, for who else could outweigh the love and gratitude which she must feel to you? I knew that you went out little, and that your circle of friends was a very limited one. But among them was Sir George Burnwell. I had heard of him before as being a man of evil reputation among women. It must have been he who wore those boots and retained the missing gems. Even though he knew that Arthur had discovered him, he might still flatter himself that he was safe, for the lad could not say a word without compromising his own family.

"Well, your own good sense will suggest what measures I took next. I went in the shape of a loafer to Sir George's house, managed to pick up an acquaintance with his valet, learned that his master had cut his head the night before, and, finally, at the expense of six shillings, made all sure by buying a pair of his cast-off shoes. With these I journeyed down to Streatham and saw that they exactly fitted the tracks."

"I saw an ill-dressed vagabond in the lane yesterday evening," said Mr. Holder.

"Precisely. It was I. I found that I had my man, so I came home and changed my clothes. It was a delicate part which I had to play then, for I saw that a prosecution must be avoided to avert scandal, and I knew that so astute a villain would see that our hands were tied in the matter. I went and saw him. At first, of course, he denied everything. But when I gave him every particular that had occurred, he tried to bluster and took down a life-preserver from the wall. I knew my man, however, and I clapped a pistol to his head before he could strike. Then he became a little more reasonable. I told him that we would give him a price for the stones he held--$1000 apiece. That brought out the first signs of grief that he had shown. 'Why, dash it all!' said he, 'I've let them go at six hundred for the three!' I soon managed to get the address of the receiver who had them, on promising him that there would be no prosecution. Off I set to him, and after much chaffering I got our stones at $1000 apiece. Then I looked in upon your son, told him that all was right, and eventually got to my bed about two o'clock, after what I may call a really hard day's work."

"A day which has saved England from a great public scandal," said the banker, rising. "Sir, I cannot find words to thank you, but you shall not find me ungrateful for what you have done. Your skill has indeed exceeded all that I have heard of it. And now I must fly to my dear boy to apologise to him for the wrong which I have done him. As to what you tell me of poor Mary, it goes to my very heart. Not even your skill can inform me where she is now."

"I think that we may safely say," returned Holmes, "that she is wherever Sir George Burnwell is. It is equally certain, too, that whatever her sins are, they will soon receive a more than sufficient punishment."

XII.  THE ADVENTURE OF THE COPPER BEECHES


"To the man who loves art for its own sake," remarked Sherlock Holmes, tossing aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily Telegraph, "it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth that in these little records of our cases which you have been good enough to draw up, and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have given prominence not so much to the many causes celebres and sensational trials in which I have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been trivial in themselves, but which have given room for those faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made my special province."

"And yet," said I, smiling, "I cannot quite hold myself absolved from the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my records."

"You have erred, perhaps," he observed, taking up a glowing cinder with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than a meditative mood--"you have erred perhaps in attempting to put colour and life into each of your statements instead of confining yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about the thing."

"It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter," I remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my friend's singular character.

"No, it is not selfishness or conceit," said he, answering, as was his wont, my thoughts rather than my words. "If I claim full justice for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing--a thing beyond myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of tales."

It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal, for the table had not been cleared yet. Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings.

"At the same time," he remarked after a pause, during which he had sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, "you can hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases which you have been so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, at all. The small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King of Bohemia, the singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the problem connected with the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble bachelor, were all matters which are outside the pale of the law. But in avoiding the sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the trivial."

"The end may have been so," I answered, "but the methods I hold to have been novel and of interest."

"Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial. I cannot blame you, for the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from boarding-schools. I think that I have touched bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy. Read it!" He tossed a crumpled letter across to me.

It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran thus:

"DEAR MR. HOLMES:--I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should not accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not inconvenience you. Yours faithfully,


"VIOLET HUNTER."

"Do you know the young lady?" I asked.

"Not I."

"It is half-past ten now."

"Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring."

"It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so in this case, also."

"Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question."

As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a plover's egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had her own way to make in the world.

"You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure," said she, as my companion rose to greet her, "but I have had a very strange experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort from whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should do."

"Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that I can to serve you."

I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and his finger-tips together, to listen to her story.

"I have been a governess for five years," said she, "in the family of Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his children over to America with him, so that I found myself without a situation. I advertised, and I answered advertisements, but without success. At last the little money which I had saved began to run short, and I was at my wit's end as to what I should do.

"There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called Westaway's, and there I used to call about once a week in order to see whether anything had turned up which might suit me. Westaway was the name of the founder of the business, but it is really managed by Miss Stoper. She sits in her own little office, and the ladies who are seeking employment wait in an anteroom, and are then shown in one by one, when she consults her ledgers and sees whether she has anything which would suit them.

"Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office as usual, but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A prodigiously stout man with a very smiling face and a great heavy chin which rolled down in fold upon fold over his throat sat at her elbow with a pair of glasses on his nose, looking very earnestly at the ladies who entered. As I came in he gave quite a jump in his chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper.

" 'That will do,' said he; 'I could not ask for anything better. Capital! capital!' He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his hands together in the most genial fashion. He was such a comfortable-looking man that it was quite a pleasure to look at him.

" 'You are looking for a situation, miss?' he asked.

" 'Yes, sir.'

" 'As governess?'

" 'Yes, sir.'

" 'And what salary do you ask?'

" 'I had $4 a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.'

" 'Oh, tut, tut! sweating--rank sweating!' he cried, throwing his fat hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling passion. 'How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with such attractions and accomplishments?'

" 'My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,' said I. 'A little French, a little German, music, and drawing--'

" 'Tut, tut!' he cried. 'This is all quite beside the question. The point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a lady? There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are not fitted for the rearing of a child who may some day play a considerable part in the history of the country. But if you have why, then, how could any gentleman ask you to condescend to accept anything under the three figures? Your salary with me, madam, would commence at $100 a year.'

"You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, such an offer seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, however, seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, opened a pocket-book and took out a note.

" 'It is also my custom,' said he, smiling in the most pleasant fashion until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid the white creases of his face, 'to advance to my young ladies half their salary beforehand, so that they may meet any little expenses of their journey and their wardrobe.'

"It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so thoughtful a man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the advance was a great convenience, and yet there was something unnatural about the whole transaction which made me wish to know a little more before I quite committed myself.

" 'May I ask where you live, sir?' said I.

" 'Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles on the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dear young lady, and the dearest old country-house.'

" 'And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.'

" 'One child--one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if you could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! smack! smack! Three gone before you could wink!' He leaned back in his chair and laughed his eyes into his head again.

"I was a little startled at the nature of the child's amusement, but the father's laughter made me think that perhaps he was joking.

" 'My sole duties, then,' I asked, 'are to take charge of a single child?'

" 'No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,' he cried. 'Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to obey any little commands my wife might give, provided always that they were such commands as a lady might with propriety obey. You see no difficulty, heh?'

" 'I should be happy to make myself useful.'

" 'Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you know--faddy but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress which we might give you, you would not object to our little whim. Heh?'

" 'No,' said I, considerably astonished at his words.

" 'Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?'

" 'Oh, no.'

" 'Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?'

"I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, my hair is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of chestnut. It has been considered artistic. I could not dream of sacrificing it in this offhand fashion.

" 'I am afraid that that is quite impossible,' said I. He had been watching me eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a shadow pass over his face as I spoke.

" 'I am afraid that it is quite essential,' said he. 'It is a little fancy of my wife's, and ladies' fancies, you know, madam, ladies' fancies must be consulted. And so you won't cut your hair?'

" 'No, sir, I really could not,' I answered firmly.

" 'Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a pity, because in other respects you would really have done very nicely. In that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young ladies.'

"The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers without a word to either of us, but she glanced at me now with so much annoyance upon her face that I could not help suspecting that she had lost a handsome commission through my refusal.

" 'Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?' she asked.

" 'If you please, Miss Stoper.'

" 'Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the most excellent offers in this fashion,' said she sharply. 'You can hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another such opening for you. Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.' She struck a gong upon the table, and I was shown out by the page.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found little enough in the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the table. I began to ask myself whether I had not done a very foolish thing. After all, if these people had strange fads and expected obedience on the most extraordinary matters, they were at least ready to pay for their eccentricity. Very few governesses in England are getting $100 a year. Besides, what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved by wearing it short and perhaps I should be among the number. Next day I was inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day after I was sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go back to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open when I received this letter from the gentleman himself. I have it here and I will read it to you:


" 'The Copper Beeches, near Winchester.

" 'DEAR MISS HUNTER:--Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your address, and I write from here to ask you whether you have reconsidered your decision. My wife is very anxious that you should come, for she has been much attracted by my description of you. We are willing to give $30 a quarter, or $120 a year, so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience which our fads may cause you. They are not very exacting, after all. My wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning. You need not, however, go to the expense of purchasing one, as we have one belonging to my dear daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which would, I should think, fit you very well. Then, as to sitting here or there, or amusing yourself in any manner indicated, that need cause you no inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no doubt a pity, especially as I could not help remarking its beauty during our short interview, but I am afraid that I must remain firm upon this point, and I only hope that the increased salary may recompense you for the loss. Your duties, as far as the child is concerned, are very light. Now do try to come, and I shall meet you with the dog-cart at Winchester. Let me know your train. Yours faithfully,


" 'JEPHRO RUCASTLE.'

"That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and my mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, that before taking the final step I should like to submit the whole matter to your consideration."

"Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the question," said Holmes, smiling.

"But you would not advise me to refuse?"

"I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a sister of mine apply for."

"What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?"

"Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed some opinion?"

"Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr. Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not possible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that he humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an outbreak?"

"That is a possible solution--in fact, as matters stand, it is the most probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nice household for a young lady."

"But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!"

"Well, yes, of course the pay is good--too good. That is what makes me uneasy. Why should they give you $120 a year, when they could have their pick for $40? There must be some strong reason behind."

"I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so much stronger if I felt that you were at the back of me."

"Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that your little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my way for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some of the features. If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger--"

"Danger! What danger do you foresee?"

Holmes shook his head gravely. "It would cease to be a danger if we could define it," said he. "But at any time, day or night, a telegram would bring me down to your help."

"That is enough." She rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety all swept from her face. "I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in my mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor hair to-night, and start for Winchester to-morrow." With a few grateful words to Holmes she bade us both good-night and bustled off upon her way.

"At least," said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending the stairs, "she seems to be a young lady who is very well able to take care of herself."

"And she would need to be," said Holmes gravely. "I am much mistaken if we do not hear from her before many days are past."

It was not very long before my friend's prediction was fulfilled. A fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of human experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat frequently for half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an abstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of his hand when I mentioned it. "Data! data! data!" he cried impatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay." And yet he would always wind up by muttering that no sister of his should ever have accepted such a situation.

The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of those all-night chemical researches which he frequently indulged in, when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night and find him in the same position when I came down to breakfast in the morning. He opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at the message, threw it across to me.

"Just look up the trains in Bradshaw," said he, and turned back to his chemical studies.

The summons was a brief and urgent one.

"Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to-morrow," it said. "Do come! I am at my wit's end.


"HUNTER."

"Will you come with me?" asked Holmes, glancing up.

"I should wish to."

"Just look it up, then."

"There is a train at half-past nine," said I, glancing over my Bradshaw. "It is due at Winchester at 11:30."

"That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the morning."

By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a man's energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage.

"Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all the enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street.

But Holmes shook his head gravely.

"Do you know, Watson," said he, "that it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there."

"Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?"

"They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside."

"You horrify me!"

"But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she is not personally threatened."

"No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away."

"Quite so. She has her freedom."

"What can be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?"

"I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct can only be determined by the fresh information which we shall no doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell."

The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance from the station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us. She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the table.

"I am so delighted that you have come," she said earnestly. "It is so very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do. Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me."

"Pray tell us what has happened to you."

"I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. Rucastle to be back before three. I got his leave to come into town this morning, though he little knew for what purpose."

"Let us have everything in its due order." Holmes thrust his long thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen.

"In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fair to them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in my mind about them."

"What can you not understand?"

"Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just as it occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and drove me in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully situated, but it is not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square block of a house, whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp and bad weather. There are grounds round it, woods on three sides, and on the fourth a field which slopes down to the Southampton highroad, which curves past about a hundred yards from the front door. This ground in front belongs to the house, but the woods all round are part of Lord Southerton's preserves. A clump of copper beeches immediately in front of the hall door has given its name to the place.

"I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. There was no truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be probable in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I found her to be a silent, pale-faced woman, much younger than her husband, not more than thirty, I should think, while he can hardly be less than forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that they have been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I can quite imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with her father's young wife.

"Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes wandered continually from one to the other, noting every little want and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would often be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face. More than once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition of her child which weighed upon her mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has little to do with my story."

"I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem to you to be relevant or not."

"I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife. Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman with a sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one corner of the building.

"For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and whispered something to her husband.

" 'Oh, yes,' said he, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you, Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and if you would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely obliged.'

"The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not have been a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which seemed quite exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for me in the drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching along the entire front of the house, with three long windows reaching down to the floor. A chair had been placed close to the central window, with its back turned towards it. In this I was asked to sit, and then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories that I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I laughed until I was quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of humour, never so much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap, and a sad, anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr. Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of the day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in the nursery.

"Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny stories of which my employer had an immense repertoire, and which he told inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten minutes, beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my dress.

"You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the window, so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the glass in my handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able with a little management to see all that there was behind me. I confess that I was disappointed. There was nothing. At least that was my first impression. At the second glance, however, I perceived that there was a man standing in the Southampton Road, a small bearded man in a grey suit, who seemed to be looking in my direction. The road is an important highway, and there are usually people there. This man, however, was leaning against the railings which bordered our field and was looking earnestly up. I lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle to find her eyes fixed upon me with a most searching gaze. She said nothing, but I am convinced that she had divined that I had a mirror in my hand and had seen what was behind me. She rose at once.

" 'Jephro,' said she, 'there is an impertinent fellow upon the road there who stares up at Miss Hunter.'

" 'No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?' he asked.

" 'No, I know no one in these parts.'

" 'Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to him to go away.'

" 'Surely it would be better to take no notice.'

" 'No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn round and wave him away like that.'

"I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew down the blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat again in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man in the road."

"Pray continue," said Holmes. "Your narrative promises to be a most interesting one."

"You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to be little relation between the different incidents of which I speak. On the very first day that I was at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to a small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door. As we approached it I heard the sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a large animal moving about.

" 'Look in here!' said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two planks. 'Is he not a beauty?'

"I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a vague figure huddled up in the darkness.

" 'Don't be frightened,' said my employer, laughing at the start which I had given. 'It's only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do anything with him. We feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness' sake don't you ever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold at night, for it's as much as your life is worth.'

"The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look out of my bedroom window about two o'clock in the morning. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house was silvered over and almost as bright as day. I was standing, rapt in the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that something was moving under the shadow of the copper beeches. As it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones. It walked slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other side. That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not think that any burglar could have done.

"And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as you know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great coil at the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the child was in bed, I began to amuse myself by examining the furniture of my room and by rearranging my own little things. There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the two upper ones empty and open, the lower one locked. I had filled the first two with my linen, and as I had still much to pack away I was naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer. It struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight, so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The very first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never guess what it was. It was my coil of hair.

"I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, and the same thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing obtruded itself upon me. How could my hair have been locked in the drawer? With trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the contents, and drew from the bottom my own hair. I laid the two tresses together, and I assure you that they were identical. Was it not extraordinary? Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant. I returned the strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the matter to the Rucastles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer which they had locked.

"I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, and I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. There was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all. A door which faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers opened into this suite, but it was invariably locked. One day, however, as I ascended the stair, I met Mr. Rucastle coming out through this door, his keys in his hand, and a look on his face which made him a very different person to the round, jovial man to whom I was accustomed. His cheeks were red, his brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins stood out at his temples with passion. He locked the door and hurried past me without a word or a look.

"This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the grounds with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I could see the windows of this part of the house. There were four of them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the fourth was shuttered up. They were evidently all deserted. As I strolled up and down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr. Rucastle came out to me, looking as merry and jovial as ever.

" 'Ah!' said he, 'you must not think me rude if I passed you without a word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters.'

"I assured him that I was not offended. 'By the way,' said I, 'you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them has the shutters up.'

"He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my remark.

" 'Photography is one of my hobbies,' said he. 'I have made my dark room up there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we have come upon. Who would have believed it? Who would have ever believed it?' He spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in his eyes as he looked at me. I read suspicion there and annoyance, but no jest.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there was something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, I was all on fire to go over them. It was not mere curiosity, though I have my share of that. It was more a feeling of duty--a feeling that some good might come from my penetrating to this place. They talk of woman's instinct; perhaps it was woman's instinct which gave me that feeling. At any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance to pass the forbidden door.

"It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that, besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to do in these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large black linen bag with him through the door. Recently he has been drinking hard, and yesterday evening he was very drunk; and when I came upstairs there was the key in the door. I have no doubt at all that he had left it there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both downstairs, and the child was with them, so that I had an admirable opportunity. I turned the key gently in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through.

"There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted, which turned at a right angle at the farther end. Round this corner were three doors in a line, the first and third of which were open. They each led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two windows in the one and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through them. The centre door was closed, and across the outside of it had been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a ring in the wall, and fastened at the other with stout cord. The door itself was locked as well, and the key was not there. This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the shuttered window outside, and yet I could see by the glimmer from beneath it that the room was not in darkness. Evidently there was a skylight which let in light from above. As I stood in the passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret it might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room and saw a shadow pass backward and forward against the little slit of dim light which shone out from under the door. A mad, unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, Mr. Holmes. My overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and ran--ran as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the skirt of my dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, and straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting outside.

" 'So,' said he, smiling, 'it was you, then. I thought that it must be when I saw the door open.'

" 'Oh, I am so frightened!' I panted.

" 'My dear young lady! my dear young lady!'--you cannot think how caressing and soothing his manner was--'and what has frightened you, my dear young lady?'

"But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was keenly on my guard against him.

" 'I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,' I answered. 'But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there!'

" 'Only that?' said he, looking at me keenly.

" 'Why, what did you think?' I asked.

" 'Why do you think that I lock this door?'

" 'I am sure that I do not know.'

" 'It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you see?' He was still smiling in the most amiable manner.

" 'I am sure if I had known--'

" 'Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that threshold again'--here in an instant the smile hardened into a grin of rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a demon--'I'll throw you to the mastiff.'

"I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that I must have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing until I found myself lying on my bed trembling all over. Then I thought of you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live there longer without some advice. I was frightened of the house, of the man, of the woman, of the servants, even of the child. They were all horrible to me. If I could only bring you down all would be well. Of course I might have fled from the house, but my curiosity was almost as strong as my fears. My mind was soon made up. I would send you a wire. I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the office, which is about half a mile from the house, and then returned, feeling very much easier. A horrible doubt came into my mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be loose, but I remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one in the household who had any influence with the savage creature, or who would venture to set him free. I slipped in in safety and lay awake half the night in my joy at the thought of seeing you. I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this morning, but I must be back before three o'clock, for Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit, and will be away all the evening, so that I must look after the child. Now I have told you all my adventures, Mr. Holmes, and I should be very glad if you could tell me what it all means, and, above all, what I should do."

Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. My friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in his pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon his face.

"Is Toller still drunk?" he asked.

"Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do nothing with him."

"That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?"

"Yes."

"Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?"

"Yes, the wine-cellar."

"You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite exceptional woman."

"I will try. What is it?"

"We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o'clock, my friend and I. The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm. If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely."

"I will do it."

"Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of course there is only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there to personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber. That is obvious. As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter, Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a curious chance you came upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly some friend of hers--possibly her fiance--and no doubt, as you wore the girl's dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no longer desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to prevent him from endeavouring to communicate with her. So much is fairly clear. The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child."

"What on earth has that to do with it?" I ejaculated.

"My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don't you see that the converse is equally valid. I have frequently gained my first real insight into the character of parents by studying their children. This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their power."

"I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes," cried our client. "A thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you have hit it. Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor creature."

"We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning man. We can do nothing until seven o'clock. At that hour we shall be with you, and it will not be long before we solve the mystery."

We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached the Copper Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside public-house. The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark the house even had Miss Hunter not been standing smiling on the door-step.

"Have you managed it?" asked Holmes.

A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. "That is Mrs. Toller in the cellar," said she. "Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates of Mr. Rucastle's."

"You have done well indeed!" cried Holmes with enthusiasm. "Now lead the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black business."

We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss Hunter had described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar. Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes' face clouded over.

"I trust that we are not too late," said he. "I think, Miss Hunter, that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in."

It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There was no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful of linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner gone.

"There has been some villainy here," said Holmes; "this beauty has guessed Miss Hunter's intentions and has carried his victim off."

"But how?"

"Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it." He swung himself up onto the roof. "Ah, yes," he cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it."

"But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the Rucastles went away."

"He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were he whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready."

The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stick in his hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him.

"You villain!" said he, "where's your daughter?"

The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open skylight.

"It is for me to ask you that," he shrieked, "you thieves! Spies and thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I'll serve you!" He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go.

"He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter.

"I have my revolver," said I.

"Better close the front door," cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door.

"My God!" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"

Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck. With much labour we separated them and carried him, living but horribly mangled, into the house. We laid him upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to his wife, I did what I could to relieve his pain. We were all assembled round him when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room.

"Mrs. Toller!" cried Miss Hunter.

"Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went up to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted."

"Ha!" said Holmes, looking keenly at her. "It is clear that Mrs. Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else."

"Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know."

"Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark."

"I will soon make it clear to you," said she; "and I'd have done so before now if I could ha' got out from the cellar. If there's police-court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice's friend too.

"She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn't, from the time that her father married again. She was slighted like and had no say in anything, but it never really became bad for her until after she met Mr. Fowler at a friend's house. As well as I could learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own by will, but she was so quiet and patient, she was, that she never said a word about them but just left everything in Mr. Rucastle's hands. He knew he was safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use her money. When she wouldn't do it, he kept on worrying her until she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death's door. Then she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her beautiful hair cut off; but that didn't make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be."

"Ah," said Holmes, "I think that what you have been good enough to tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that remains. Mr. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of imprisonment?"

"Yes, sir."

"And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler."

"That was it, sir."

"But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as his."

"Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman," said Mrs. Toller serenely.

"And in this way he managed that your good man should have no want of drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your master had gone out."

"You have it, sir, just as it happened."

"I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller," said Holmes, "for you have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And here comes the country surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think, Watson, that we had best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our locus standi now is rather a questionable one."

And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper beeches in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle's past life that he finds it difficult to part from them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by special license, in Southampton the day after their flight, and he is now the holder of a government appointment in the island of Mauritius. As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success.

*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK, THE ADVENTURES OF SHERLOCK HOLMES ***

This file should be named advsh12h.htm or advsh12h.zip
Corrected EDITIONS of our eBooks get a new NUMBER, advsh13h.txt
VERSIONS based on separate sources get new LETTER, advsh12ah.txt

Project Gutenberg eBooks are often created from several printed
editions, all of which are confirmed as Public Domain in the US
unless a copyright notice is included.  Thus, we usually do not
keep eBooks in compliance with any particular paper edition.

We are now trying to release all our eBooks one year in advance
of the official release dates, leaving time for better editing.
Please be encouraged to tell us about any error or corrections,
even years after the official publication date.

Please note neither this listing nor its contents are final til
midnight of the last day of the month of any such announcement.
The official release date of all Project Gutenberg eBooks is at
Midnight, Central Time, of the last day of the stated month.  A
preliminary version may often be posted for suggestion, comment
and editing by those who wish to do so.

Most people start at our Web sites at:
http://gutenberg.net or
http://promo.net/pg

These Web sites include award-winning information about Project
Gutenberg, including how to donate, how to help produce our new
eBooks, and how to subscribe to our email newsletter (free!).


Those of you who want to download any eBook before announcement
can get to them as follows, and just download by date.  This is
also a good way to get them instantly upon announcement, as the
indexes our cataloguers produce obviously take a while after an
announcement goes out in the Project Gutenberg Newsletter.

http://www.ibiblio.org/gutenberg/etext04 or
ftp://ftp.ibiblio.org/pub/docs/books/gutenberg/etext03

Or /etext03, 02, 01, 00, 99, 98, 97, 96, 95, 94, 93, 92, 92, 91 or 90

Just search by the first five letters of the filename you want,
as it appears in our Newsletters.


Information about Project Gutenberg (one page)

We produce about two million dollars for each hour we work.  The
time it takes us, a rather conservative estimate, is fifty hours
to get any eBook selected, entered, proofread, edited, copyright
searched and analyzed, the copyright letters written, etc.   Our
projected audience is one hundred million readers.  If the value
per text is nominally estimated at one dollar then we produce $2
million dollars per hour in 2002 as we release over 100 new text
files per month:  1240 more eBooks in 2001 for a total of 4000+
We are already on our way to trying for 2000 more eBooks in 2002
If they reach just 1-2% of the world's population then the total
will reach over half a trillion eBooks given away by year's end.

The Goal of Project Gutenberg is to Give Away 1 Trillion eBooks!
This is ten thousand titles each to one hundred million readers,
which is only about 4% of the present number of computer users.

Here is the briefest record of our progress (* means estimated):

eBooks Year Month

    1  1971 July
   10  1991 January
  100  1994 January
 1000  1997 August
 1500  1998 October
 2000  1999 December
 2500  2000 December
 3000  2001 November
 4000  2001 October/November
 6000  2002 December*
 9000  2003 November*
10000  2004 January*


The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been created
to secure a future for Project Gutenberg into the next millennium.

We need your donations more than ever!

As of February, 2002, contributions are being solicited from people
and organizations in: Alabama, Alaska, Arkansas, Connecticut,
Delaware, District of Columbia, Florida, Georgia, Hawaii, Illinois,
Indiana, Iowa, Kansas, Kentucky, Louisiana, Maine, Massachusetts,
Michigan, Mississippi, Missouri, Montana, Nebraska, Nevada, New
Hampshire, New Jersey, New Mexico, New York, North Carolina, Ohio,
Oklahoma, Oregon, Pennsylvania, Rhode Island, South Carolina, South
Dakota, Tennessee, Texas, Utah, Vermont, Virginia, Washington, West
Virginia, Wisconsin, and Wyoming.

We have filed in all 50 states now, but these are the only ones
that have responded.

As the requirements for other states are met, additions to this list
will be made and fund raising will begin in the additional states.
Please feel free to ask to check the status of your state.

In answer to various questions we have received on this:

We are constantly working on finishing the paperwork to legally
request donations in all 50 states.  If your state is not listed and
you would like to know if we have added it since the list you have,
just ask.

While we cannot solicit donations from people in states where we are
not yet registered, we know of no prohibition against accepting
donations from donors in these states who approach us with an offer to
donate.

International donations are accepted, but we don't know ANYTHING about
how to make them tax-deductible, or even if they CAN be made
deductible, and don't have the staff to handle it even if there are
ways.

Donations by check or money order may be sent to:

Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation
PMB 113
1739 University Ave.
Oxford, MS 38655-4109

Contact us if you want to arrange for a wire transfer or payment
method other than by check or money order.

The Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation has been approved by
the US Internal Revenue Service as a 501(c)(3) organization with EIN
[Employee Identification Number] 64-622154.  Donations are
tax-deductible to the maximum extent permitted by law.  As fund-raising
requirements for other states are met, additions to this list will be
made and fund-raising will begin in the additional states.

We need your donations more than ever!

You can get up to date donation information online at:

http://www.gutenberg.net/donation.html


***

If you can't reach Project Gutenberg,
you can always email directly to:

Michael S. Hart <hart@pobox.com>

Prof. Hart will answer or forward your message.

We would prefer to send you information by email.


**The Legal Small Print**


(Three Pages)

***START**THE SMALL PRINT!**FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS**START***
Why is this "Small Print!" statement here? You know: lawyers.
They tell us you might sue us if there is something wrong with
your copy of this eBook, even if you got it for free from
someone other than us, and even if what's wrong is not our
fault. So, among other things, this "Small Print!" statement
disclaims most of our liability to you. It also tells you how
you may distribute copies of this eBook if you want to.

*BEFORE!* YOU USE OR READ THIS EBOOK
By using or reading any part of this PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm
eBook, you indicate that you understand, agree to and accept
this "Small Print!" statement. If you do not, you can receive
a refund of the money (if any) you paid for this eBook by
sending a request within 30 days of receiving it to the person
you got it from. If you received this eBook on a physical
medium (such as a disk), you must return it with your request.

ABOUT PROJECT GUTENBERG-TM EBOOKS
This PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook, like most PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBooks,
is a "public domain" work distributed by Professor Michael S. Hart
through the Project Gutenberg Association (the "Project").
Among other things, this means that no one owns a United States copyright
on or for this work, so the Project (and you!) can copy and
distribute it in the United States without permission and
without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, set forth
below, apply if you wish to copy and distribute this eBook
under the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark.

Please do not use the "PROJECT GUTENBERG" trademark to market
any commercial products without permission.

To create these eBooks, the Project expends considerable
efforts to identify, transcribe and proofread public domain
works. Despite these efforts, the Project's eBooks and any
medium they may be on may contain "Defects". Among other
things, Defects may take the form of incomplete, inaccurate or
corrupt data, transcription errors, a copyright or other
intellectual property infringement, a defective or damaged
disk or other eBook medium, a computer virus, or computer
codes that damage or cannot be read by your equipment.

LIMITED WARRANTY; DISCLAIMER OF DAMAGES
But for the "Right of Replacement or Refund" described below,
[1] Michael Hart and the Foundation (and any other party you may
receive this eBook from as a PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm eBook) disclaims
all liability to you for damages, costs and expenses, including
legal fees, and [2] YOU HAVE NO REMEDIES FOR NEGLIGENCE OR
UNDER STRICT LIABILITY, OR FOR BREACH OF WARRANTY OR CONTRACT,
INCLUDING BUT NOT LIMITED TO INDIRECT, CONSEQUENTIAL, PUNITIVE
OR INCIDENTAL DAMAGES, EVEN IF YOU GIVE NOTICE OF THE
POSSIBILITY OF SUCH DAMAGES.

If you discover a Defect in this eBook within 90 days of
receiving it, you can receive a refund of the money (if any)
you paid for it by sending an explanatory note within that
time to the person you received it from. If you received it
on a physical medium, you must return it with your note, and
such person may choose to alternatively give you a replacement
copy. If you received it electronically, such person may
choose to alternatively give you a second opportunity to
receive it electronically.

THIS EBOOK IS OTHERWISE PROVIDED TO YOU "AS-IS". NO OTHER
WARRANTIES OF ANY KIND, EXPRESS OR IMPLIED, ARE MADE TO YOU AS
TO THE EBOOK OR ANY MEDIUM IT MAY BE ON, INCLUDING BUT NOT
LIMITED TO WARRANTIES OF MERCHANTABILITY OR FITNESS FOR A
PARTICULAR PURPOSE.

Some states do not allow disclaimers of implied warranties or
the exclusion or limitation of consequential damages, so the
above disclaimers and exclusions may not apply to you, and you
may have other legal rights.

INDEMNITY
You will indemnify and hold Michael Hart, the Foundation,
and its trustees and agents, and any volunteers associated
with the production and distribution of Project Gutenberg-tm
texts harmless, from all liability, cost and expense, including
legal fees, that arise directly or indirectly from any of the
following that you do or cause:  [1] distribution of this eBook,
[2] alteration, modification, or addition to the eBook,
or [3] any Defect.

DISTRIBUTION UNDER "PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm"
You may distribute copies of this eBook electronically, or by
disk, book or any other medium if you either delete this
"Small Print!" and all other references to Project Gutenberg,
or:

[1]  Only give exact copies of it.  Among other things, this
     requires that you do not remove, alter or modify the
     eBook or this "small print!" statement.  You may however,
     if you wish, distribute this eBook in machine readable
     binary, compressed, mark-up, or proprietary form,
     including any form resulting from conversion by word
     processing or hypertext software, but only so long as
     *EITHER*:

     [*]  The eBook, when displayed, is clearly readable, and
          does *not* contain characters other than those
          intended by the author of the work, although tilde
          (~), asterisk (*) and underline (_) characters may
          be used to convey punctuation intended by the
          author, and additional characters may be used to
          indicate hypertext links; OR

     [*]  The eBook may be readily converted by the reader at
          no expense into plain ASCII, EBCDIC or equivalent
          form by the program that displays the eBook (as is
          the case, for instance, with most word processors);
          OR

     [*]  You provide, or agree to also provide on request at
          no additional cost, fee or expense, a copy of the
          eBook in its original plain ASCII form (or in EBCDIC
          or other equivalent proprietary form).

[2]  Honor the eBook refund and replacement provisions of this
     "Small Print!" statement.

[3]  Pay a trademark license fee to the Foundation of 20% of the
     gross profits you derive calculated using the method you
     already use to calculate your applicable taxes.  If you
     don't derive profits, no royalty is due.  Royalties are
     payable to "Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation"
     the 60 days following each date you prepare (or were
     legally required to prepare) your annual (or equivalent
     periodic) tax return.  Please contact us beforehand to
     let us know your plans and to work out the details.

WHAT IF YOU *WANT* TO SEND MONEY EVEN IF YOU DON'T HAVE TO?
Project Gutenberg is dedicated to increasing the number of
public domain and licensed works that can be freely distributed
in machine readable form.

The Project gratefully accepts contributions of money, time,
public domain materials, or royalty free copyright licenses.
Money should be paid to the:
"Project Gutenberg Literary Archive Foundation."

If you are interested in contributing scanning equipment or
software or other items, please contact Michael Hart at:
hart@pobox.com

[Portions of this eBook's header and trailer may be reprinted only
when distributed free of all fees.  Copyright (C) 2001, 2002 by
Michael S. Hart.  Project Gutenberg is a TradeMark and may not be
used in any sales of Project Gutenberg eBooks or other materials be
they hardware or software or any other related product without
express permission.]

*END THE SMALL PRINT! FOR PUBLIC DOMAIN EBOOKS*Ver.02/11/02*END*



The Project Gutenberg EBook of History of the United States
by Charles A. Beard and Mary R. Beard

This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with
almost no restrictions whatsoever.  You may copy it, give it away or
re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included
with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.net


Title: History of the United States

Author: Charles A. Beard and Mary R. Beard

Release Date: October 28, 2005 [EBook #16960]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1

*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES ***




Produced by Curtis Weyant, M and the Online Distributed
Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net







HISTORY

OF THE

UNITED STATES


BY


CHARLES A. BEARD

AND

MARY R. BEARD



New York

THE MACMILLAN COMPANY

1921

_All rights reserved_

COPYRIGHT, 1921,

BY THE MACMILLAN COMPANY.


Set up and electrotyped. Published March, 1921.




Norwood Press

J.S. Cushing Co.--Berwick & Smith Co.

NORWOOD, MASS., U.S.A.




PREFACE


As things now stand, the course of instruction in American history in
our public schools embraces three distinct treatments of the subject.
Three separate books are used. First, there is the primary book, which
is usually a very condensed narrative with emphasis on biographies and
anecdotes. Second, there is the advanced text for the seventh or eighth
grade, generally speaking, an expansion of the elementary book by the
addition of forty or fifty thousand words. Finally, there is the high
school manual. This, too, ordinarily follows the beaten path, giving
fuller accounts of the same events and characters. To put it bluntly, we
do not assume that our children obtain permanent possessions from their
study of history in the lower grades. If mathematicians followed the
same method, high school texts on algebra and geometry would include the
multiplication table and fractions.

There is, of course, a ready answer to the criticism advanced above. It
is that teachers have learned from bitter experience how little history
their pupils retain as they pass along the regular route. No teacher of
history will deny this. Still it is a standing challenge to existing
methods of historical instruction. If the study of history cannot be
made truly progressive like the study of mathematics, science, and
languages, then the historians assume a grave responsibility in adding
their subject to the already overloaded curriculum. If the successive
historical texts are only enlarged editions of the first text--more
facts, more dates, more words--then history deserves most of the sharp
criticism which it is receiving from teachers of science, civics, and
economics.

In this condition of affairs we find our justification for offering a
new high school text in American history. Our first contribution is one
of omission. The time-honored stories of exploration and the
biographies of heroes are left out. We frankly hold that, if pupils know
little or nothing about Columbus, Cortes, Magellan, or Captain John
Smith by the time they reach the high school, it is useless to tell the
same stories for perhaps the fourth time. It is worse than useless. It
is an offense against the teachers of those subjects that are
demonstrated to be progressive in character.

In the next place we have omitted all descriptions of battles. Our
reasons for this are simple. The strategy of a campaign or of a single
battle is a highly technical, and usually a highly controversial, matter
about which experts differ widely. In the field of military and naval
operations most writers and teachers of history are mere novices. To
dispose of Gettysburg or the Wilderness in ten lines or ten pages is
equally absurd to the serious student of military affairs. Any one who
compares the ordinary textbook account of a single Civil War campaign
with the account given by Ropes, for instance, will ask for no further
comment. No youth called upon to serve our country in arms would think
of turning to a high school manual for information about the art of
warfare. The dramatic scene or episode, so useful in arousing the
interest of the immature pupil, seems out of place in a book that
deliberately appeals to boys and girls on the very threshold of life's
serious responsibilities.

It is not upon negative features, however, that we rest our case. It is
rather upon constructive features.

_First._ We have written a topical, not a narrative, history. We have
tried to set forth the important aspects, problems, and movements of
each period, bringing in the narrative rather by way of illustration.

_Second._ We have emphasized those historical topics which help to
explain how our nation has come to be what it is to-day.

_Third._ We have dwelt fully upon the social and economic aspects of our
history, especially in relation to the politics of each period.

_Fourth._ We have treated the causes and results of wars, the problems
of financing and sustaining armed forces, rather than military strategy.
These are the subjects which belong to a history for civilians. These
are matters which civilians can understand--matters which they must
understand, if they are to play well their part in war and peace.

_Fifth._ By omitting the period of exploration, we have been able to
enlarge the treatment of our own time. We have given special attention
to the history of those current questions which must form the subject
matter of sound instruction in citizenship.

_Sixth._ We have borne in mind that America, with all her unique
characteristics, is a part of a general civilization. Accordingly we
have given diplomacy, foreign affairs, world relations, and the
reciprocal influences of nations their appropriate place.

_Seventh._ We have deliberately aimed at standards of maturity. The
study of a mere narrative calls mainly for the use of the memory. We
have aimed to stimulate habits of analysis, comparison, association,
reflection, and generalization--habits calculated to enlarge as well as
inform the mind. We have been at great pains to make our text clear,
simple, and direct; but we have earnestly sought to stretch the
intellects of our readers--to put them upon their mettle. Most of them
will receive the last of their formal instruction in the high school.
The world will soon expect maturity from them. Their achievements will
depend upon the possession of other powers than memory alone. The
effectiveness of their citizenship in our republic will be measured by
the excellence of their judgment as well as the fullness of their
information.

     C.A.B.
     M.R.B.

     NEW YORK CITY,
     February 8, 1921.




=A SMALL LIBRARY IN AMERICAN HISTORY=


_=SINGLE VOLUMES:=_

BASSETT, J.S. _A Short History of the United States_
ELSON, H.W. _History of the United States of America_


_=SERIES:=_

"EPOCHS OF AMERICAN HISTORY," EDITED BY A.B. HART

HART, A.B. _Formation of the Union_
THWAITES, R.G. _The Colonies_
WILSON, WOODROW. _Division and Reunion_

"RIVERSIDE SERIES," EDITED BY W.E. DODD

BECKER, C.L. _Beginnings of the American People_
DODD, W.E. _Expansion and Conflict_
JOHNSON, A. _Union and Democracy_
PAXSON, F.L. _The New Nation_




CONTENTS


PART I. THE COLONIAL PERIOD

CHAPTER                                                           PAGE
    I.  THE GREAT MIGRATION TO AMERICA                               1
          The Agencies of American Colonization                      2
          The Colonial Peoples                                       6
          The Process of Colonization                               12

   II.  COLONIAL AGRICULTURE, INDUSTRY, AND COMMERCE                20
          The Land and the Westward Movement                        20
          Industrial and Commercial Development                     28

  III.  SOCIAL AND POLITICAL PROGRESS                               38
          The Leadership of the Churches                            39
          Schools and Colleges                                      43
          The Colonial Press                                        46
          The Evolution in Political Institutions                   48

   IV.  THE DEVELOPMENT OF COLONIAL NATIONALISM                     56
          Relations with the Indians and the French                 57
          The Effects of Warfare on the Colonies                    61
          Colonial Relations with the British Government            64
          Summary of Colonial Period                                73


PART II. CONFLICT AND INDEPENDENCE

    V.  THE NEW COURSE IN BRITISH IMPERIAL POLICY                   77
          George III and His System                                 77
          George III's Ministers and Their Colonial Policies        79
          Colonial Resistance Forces Repeal                         83
          Resumption of British Revenue and Commercial Policies     87
          Renewed Resistance in America                             90
          Retaliation by the British Government                     93
          From Reform to Revolution in America                      95

   VI.  THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION                                     99
          Resistance and Retaliation                                99
          American Independence                                    101
          The Establishment of Government and the New Allegiance   108
          Military Affairs                                         116
          The Finances of the Revolution                           125
          The Diplomacy of the Revolution                          127
          Peace at Last                                            132
          Summary of the Revolutionary Period                      135


PART III. FOUNDATIONS OF THE UNION AND NATIONAL POLITICS

  VII.  THE FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION                          139
          The Promise and the Difficulties of America              139
          The Calling of a Constitutional Convention               143
          The Framing of the Constitution                          146
          The Struggle over Ratification                           157

 VIII.  THE CLASH OF POLITICAL PARTIES                             162
          The Men and Measures of the New Government               162
          The Rise of Political Parties                            168
          Foreign Influences and Domestic Politics                 171

   IX.  THE JEFFERSONIAN REPUBLICANS IN POWER                      186
          Republican Principles and Policies                       186
          The Republicans and the Great West                       188
          The Republican War for Commercial Independence           193
          The Republicans Nationalized                             201
          The National Decisions of Chief Justice Marshall         208
          Summary of Union and National Politics                   212


PART IV. THE WEST AND JACKSONIAN DEMOCRACY

    X.  THE FARMERS BEYOND THE APPALACHIANS                        217
          Preparation for Western Settlement                       217
          The Western Migration and New States                     221
          The Spirit of the Frontier                               228
          The West and the East Meet                               230

   XI.  JACKSONIAN DEMOCRACY                                       238
          The Democratic Movement in the East                      238
          The New Democracy Enters the Arena                       244
          The New Democracy at Washington                          250
          The Rise of the Whigs                                    260
          The Interaction of American and European Opinion         265

  XII.  THE MIDDLE BORDER AND THE GREAT WEST                       271
          The Advance of the Middle Border                         271
          On to the Pacific--Texas and the Mexican War             276
          The Pacific Coast and Utah                               284
          Summary of Western Development and National Politics     292


PART V. SECTIONAL CONFLICT AND RECONSTRUCTION

 XIII.  THE RISE OF THE INDUSTRIAL SYSTEM                          295
          The Industrial Revolution                                296
          The Industrial Revolution and National Politics          307

  XIV.  THE PLANTING SYSTEM AND NATIONAL POLITICS                  316
          Slavery--North and South                                 316
          Slavery in National Politics                             324
          The Drift of Events toward the Irrepressible Conflict    332

   XV.  THE CIVIL WAR AND RECONSTRUCTION                           344
          The Southern Confederacy                                 344
          The War Measures of the Federal Government               350
          The Results of the Civil War                             365
          Reconstruction in the South                              370
          Summary of the Sectional Conflict                        375


PART VI. NATIONAL GROWTH AND WORLD POLITICS

  XVI.  THE POLITICAL AND ECONOMIC EVOLUTION OF THE SOUTH          379
          The South at the Close of the War                        379
          The Restoration of White Supremacy                       382
          The Economic Advance of the South                        389

 XVII.  BUSINESS ENTERPRISE AND THE REPUBLICAN PARTY               401
          Railways and Industry                                    401
          The Supremacy of the Republican Party (1861-1885)        412
          The Growth of Opposition to Republican Rule              417

XVIII.  THE DEVELOPMENT OF THE GREAT WEST                          425
          The Railways as Trail Blazers                            425
          The Evolution of Grazing and Agriculture                 431
          Mining and Manufacturing in the West                     436
          The Admission of New States                              440
          The Influence of the Far West on National Life           443

  XIX.  DOMESTIC ISSUES BEFORE THE COUNTRY (1865-1897)             451
          The Currency Question                                    452
          The Protective Tariff and Taxation                       459
          The Railways and Trusts                                  460
          The Minor Parties and Unrest                             462
          The Sound Money Battle of 1896                           466
          Republican Measures and Results                          472

   XX.  AMERICA A WORLD POWER (1865-1900)                          477
          American Foreign Relations (1865-1898)                   478
          Cuba and the Spanish War                                 485
          American Policies in the Philippines and the Orient      497
          Summary of National Growth and World Politics            504


PART VII. PROGRESSIVE DEMOCRACY AND THE WORLD WAR

  XXI.  THE EVOLUTION OF REPUBLICAN POLICIES (1901-1913)           507
          Foreign Affairs                                          508
          Colonial Administration                                  515
          The Roosevelt Domestic Policies                          519
          Legislative and Executive Activities                     523
          The Administration of President Taft                     527
          Progressive Insurgency and the Election of 1912          530

 XXII.  THE SPIRIT OF REFORM IN AMERICA                            536
          An Age of Criticism                                      536
          Political Reforms                                        538
          Measures of Economic Reform                              546

XXIII.  THE NEW POLITICAL DEMOCRACY                                554
          The Rise of the Woman Movement                           555
          The National Struggle for Woman Suffrage                 562

 XXIV.  INDUSTRIAL DEMOCRACY                                       570
          Cooperation between Employers and Employees              571
          The Rise and Growth of Organized Labor                   575
          The Wider Relations of Organized Labor                   577
          Immigration and Americanization                          582

  XXV.  PRESIDENT WILSON AND THE WORLD WAR                         588
          Domestic Legislation                                     588
          Colonial and Foreign Policies                            592
          The United States and the European War                   596
          The United States at War                                 604
          The Settlement at Paris                                  612
          Summary of Democracy and the World War                   620

APPENDIX                                                           627

A TOPICAL SYLLABUS                                                 645

INDEX                                                              655




MAPS


                                                                   PAGE
The Original Grants (color map)                         _Facing_     4

German and Scotch-Irish Settlements                                  8

Distribution of Population in 1790                                  27

English, French, and Spanish Possessions in America, 1750
      (color map)                                      _Facing_     59

The Colonies at the Time of the Declaration of Independence
      (color map)                                     _Facing_     108

North America according to the Treaty of 1783
      (color map)                                     _Facing_     134

The United States in 1805 (color map)                 _Facing_     193

Roads and Trails into Western Territory (color map)   _Facing_     224

The Cumberland Road                                                233

Distribution of Population in 1830                                 235

Texas and the Territory in Dispute                                 282

The Oregon Country and the Disputed Boundary                       285

The Overland Trails                                                287

Distribution of Slaves in Southern States                          323

The Missouri Compromise                                            326

Slave and Free Soil on the Eve of the Civil War                    335

The United States in 1861 (color map)                 _Facing_     345

Railroads of the United States in 1918                             405

The United States in 1870 (color map)                _Facing_      427

The United States in 1912 (color map)                _Facing_      443

American Dominions in the Pacific (color map)        _Facing_      500

The Caribbean Region (color map)                     _Facing_      592

Battle Lines of the Various Years of the World War                 613

Europe in 1919 (color map)                         _Between_   618-619

     "THE NATIONS OF THE WEST" (popularly called "The
     Pioneers"), designed by A. Stirling Calder and modeled by
     Mr. Calder, F.G.R. Roth, and Leo Lentelli, topped the Arch
     of the Setting Sun at the Panama-Pacific Exposition held at
     San Francisco in 1915. Facing the Court of the Universe
     moves a group of men and women typical of those who have
     made our civilization. From left to right appear the
     French-Canadian, the Alaskan, the Latin-American, the
     German, the Italian, the Anglo-American, and the American
     Indian, squaw and warrior. In the place of honor in the
     center of the group, standing between the oxen on the tongue
     of the prairie schooner, is a figure, beautiful and almost
     girlish, but strong, dignified, and womanly, the Mother of
     To-morrow. Above the group rides the Spirit of Enterprise,
     flanked right and left by the Hopes of the Future in the
     person of two boys. The group as a whole is beautifully
     symbolic of the westward march of American civilization.

[Illustration: _Photograph by Cardinell-Vincent Co., San Francisco_

"THE NATIONS OF THE WEST"]




HISTORY OF THE UNITED STATES




PART I. THE COLONIAL PERIOD




CHAPTER I

THE GREAT MIGRATION TO AMERICA


The tide of migration that set in toward the shores of North America
during the early years of the seventeenth century was but one phase in
the restless and eternal movement of mankind upon the surface of the
earth. The ancient Greeks flung out their colonies in every direction,
westward as far as Gaul, across the Mediterranean, and eastward into
Asia Minor, perhaps to the very confines of India. The Romans, supported
by their armies and their government, spread their dominion beyond the
narrow lands of Italy until it stretched from the heather of Scotland to
the sands of Arabia. The Teutonic tribes, from their home beyond the
Danube and the Rhine, poured into the empire of the Caesars and made the
beginnings of modern Europe. Of this great sweep of races and empires
the settlement of America was merely a part. And it was, moreover, only
one aspect of the expansion which finally carried the peoples, the
institutions, and the trade of Europe to the very ends of the earth.

In one vital point, it must be noted, American colonization differed
from that of the ancients. The Greeks usually carried with them
affection for the government they left behind and sacred fire from the
altar of the parent city; but thousands of the immigrants who came to
America disliked the state and disowned the church of the mother
country. They established compacts of government for themselves and set
up altars of their own. They sought not only new soil to till but also
political and religious liberty for themselves and their children.


THE AGENCIES OF AMERICAN COLONIZATION

It was no light matter for the English to cross three thousand miles of
water and found homes in the American wilderness at the opening of the
seventeenth century. Ships, tools, and supplies called for huge outlays
of money. Stores had to be furnished in quantities sufficient to sustain
the life of the settlers until they could gather harvests of their own.
Artisans and laborers of skill and industry had to be induced to risk
the hazards of the new world. Soldiers were required for defense and
mariners for the exploration of inland waters. Leaders of good judgment,
adept in managing men, had to be discovered. Altogether such an
enterprise demanded capital larger than the ordinary merchant or
gentleman could amass and involved risks more imminent than he dared to
assume. Though in later days, after initial tests had been made, wealthy
proprietors were able to establish colonies on their own account, it was
the corporation that furnished the capital and leadership in the
beginning.

=The Trading Company.=--English pioneers in exploration found an
instrument for colonization in companies of merchant adventurers, which
had long been employed in carrying on commerce with foreign countries.
Such a corporation was composed of many persons of different ranks of
society--noblemen, merchants, and gentlemen--who banded together for a
particular undertaking, each contributing a sum of money and sharing in
the profits of the venture. It was organized under royal authority; it
received its charter, its grant of land, and its trading privileges from
the king and carried on its operations under his supervision and
control. The charter named all the persons originally included in the
corporation and gave them certain powers in the management of its
affairs, including the right to admit new members. The company was in
fact a little government set up by the king. When the members of the
corporation remained in England, as in the case of the Virginia Company,
they operated through agents sent to the colony. When they came over the
seas themselves and settled in America, as in the case of Massachusetts,
they became the direct government of the country they possessed. The
stockholders in that instance became the voters and the governor, the
chief magistrate.

[Illustration: JOHN WINTHROP, GOVERNOR OF THE MASSACHUSETTS BAY
COMPANY]

Four of the thirteen colonies in America owed their origins to the
trading corporation. It was the London Company, created by King James I,
in 1606, that laid during the following year the foundations of Virginia
at Jamestown. It was under the auspices of their West India Company,
chartered in 1621, that the Dutch planted the settlements of the New
Netherland in the valley of the Hudson. The founders of Massachusetts
were Puritan leaders and men of affairs whom King Charles I incorporated
in 1629 under the title: "The governor and company of the Massachusetts
Bay in New England." In this case the law did but incorporate a group
drawn together by religious ties. "We must be knit together as one man,"
wrote John Winthrop, the first Puritan governor in America. Far to the
south, on the banks of the Delaware River, a Swedish commercial company
in 1638 made the beginnings of a settlement, christened New Sweden; it
was destined to pass under the rule of the Dutch, and finally under the
rule of William Penn as the proprietary colony of Delaware.

In a certain sense, Georgia may be included among the "company
colonies." It was, however, originally conceived by the moving spirit,
James Oglethorpe, as an asylum for poor men, especially those imprisoned
for debt. To realize this humane purpose, he secured from King George
II, in 1732, a royal charter uniting several gentlemen, including
himself, into "one body politic and corporate," known as the "Trustees
for establishing the colony of Georgia in America." In the structure of
their organization and their methods of government, the trustees did not
differ materially from the regular companies created for trade and
colonization. Though their purposes were benevolent, their transactions
had to be under the forms of law and according to the rules of business.

=The Religious Congregation.=--A second agency which figured largely in
the settlement of America was the religious brotherhood, or
congregation, of men and women brought together in the bonds of a common
religious faith. By one of the strange fortunes of history, this
institution, founded in the early days of Christianity, proved to be a
potent force in the origin and growth of self-government in a land far
away from Galilee. "And the multitude of them that believed were of one
heart and of one soul," we are told in the Acts describing the Church at
Jerusalem. "We are knit together as a body in a most sacred covenant of
the Lord ... by virtue of which we hold ourselves strictly tied to all
care of each other's good and of the whole," wrote John Robinson, a
leader among the Pilgrims who founded their tiny colony of Plymouth in
1620. The Mayflower Compact, so famous in American history, was but a
written and signed agreement, incorporating the spirit of obedience to
the common good, which served as a guide to self-government until
Plymouth was annexed to Massachusetts in 1691.

[Illustration: THE ORIGINAL GRANTS]

Three other colonies, all of which retained their identity until the eve
of the American Revolution, likewise sprang directly from the
congregations of the faithful: Rhode Island, Connecticut, and New
Hampshire, mainly offshoots from Massachusetts. They were founded by
small bodies of men and women, "united in solemn covenants with the
Lord," who planted their settlements in the wilderness. Not until many a
year after Roger Williams and Anne Hutchinson conducted their followers
to the Narragansett country was Rhode Island granted a charter of
incorporation (1663) by the crown. Not until long after the congregation
of Thomas Hooker from Newtown blazed the way into the Connecticut River
Valley did the king of England give Connecticut a charter of its own
(1662) and a place among the colonies. Half a century elapsed before the
towns laid out beyond the Merrimac River by emigrants from Massachusetts
were formed into the royal province of New Hampshire in 1679.

Even when Connecticut was chartered, the parchment and sealing wax of
the royal lawyers did but confirm rights and habits of self-government
and obedience to law previously established by the congregations. The
towns of Hartford, Windsor, and Wethersfield had long lived happily
under their "Fundamental Orders" drawn up by themselves in 1639; so had
the settlers dwelt peacefully at New Haven under their "Fundamental
Articles" drafted in the same year. The pioneers on the Connecticut
shore had no difficulty in agreeing that "the Scriptures do hold forth a
perfect rule for the direction and government of all men."

=The Proprietor.=--A third and very important colonial agency was the
proprietor, or proprietary. As the name, associated with the word
"property," implies, the proprietor was a person to whom the king
granted property in lands in North America to have, hold, use, and enjoy
for his own benefit and profit, with the right to hand the estate down
to his heirs in perpetual succession. The proprietor was a rich and
powerful person, prepared to furnish or secure the capital, collect the
ships, supply the stores, and assemble the settlers necessary to found
and sustain a plantation beyond the seas. Sometimes the proprietor
worked alone. Sometimes two or more were associated like partners in the
common undertaking.

Five colonies, Maryland, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, and the Carolinas,
owe their formal origins, though not always their first settlements, nor
in most cases their prosperity, to the proprietary system. Maryland,
established in 1634 under a Catholic nobleman, Lord Baltimore, and
blessed with religious toleration by the act of 1649, flourished under
the mild rule of proprietors until it became a state in the American
union. New Jersey, beginning its career under two proprietors, Berkeley
and Carteret, in 1664, passed under the direct government of the crown
in 1702. Pennsylvania was, in a very large measure, the product of the
generous spirit and tireless labors of its first proprietor, the leader
of the Friends, William Penn, to whom it was granted in 1681 and in
whose family it remained until 1776. The two Carolinas were first
organized as one colony in 1663 under the government and patronage of
eight proprietors, including Lord Clarendon; but after more than half a
century both became royal provinces governed by the king.

[Illustration: WILLIAM PENN, PROPRIETOR OF PENNSYLVANIA]


THE COLONIAL PEOPLES

=The English.=--In leadership and origin the thirteen colonies, except
New York and Delaware, were English. During the early days of all, save
these two, the main, if not the sole, current of immigration was from
England. The colonists came from every walk of life. They were men,
women, and children of "all sorts and conditions." The major portion
were yeomen, or small land owners, farm laborers, and artisans. With
them were merchants and gentlemen who brought their stocks of goods or
their fortunes to the New World. Scholars came from Oxford and
Cambridge to preach the gospel or to teach. Now and then the son of an
English nobleman left his baronial hall behind and cast his lot with
America. The people represented every religious faith--members of the
Established Church of England; Puritans who had labored to reform that
church; Separatists, Baptists, and Friends, who had left it altogether;
and Catholics, who clung to the religion of their fathers.

New England was almost purely English. During the years between 1629 and
1640, the period of arbitrary Stuart government, about twenty thousand
Puritans emigrated to America, settling in the colonies of the far
North. Although minor additions were made from time to time, the greater
portion of the New England people sprang from this original stock.
Virginia, too, for a long time drew nearly all her immigrants from
England alone. Not until the eve of the Revolution did other
nationalities, mainly the Scotch-Irish and Germans, rival the English in
numbers.

The populations of later English colonies--the Carolinas, New York,
Pennsylvania, and Georgia--while receiving a steady stream of
immigration from England, were constantly augmented by wanderers from
the older settlements. New York was invaded by Puritans from New England
in such numbers as to cause the Anglican clergymen there to lament that
"free thinking spreads almost as fast as the Church." North Carolina was
first settled toward the northern border by immigrants from Virginia.
Some of the North Carolinians, particularly the Quakers, came all the
way from New England, tarrying in Virginia only long enough to learn how
little they were wanted in that Anglican colony.

=The Scotch-Irish.=--Next to the English in numbers and influence were
the Scotch-Irish, Presbyterians in belief, English in tongue. Both
religious and economic reasons sent them across the sea. Their Scotch
ancestors, in the days of Cromwell, had settled in the north of Ireland
whence the native Irish had been driven by the conqueror's sword. There
the Scotch nourished for many years enjoying in peace their own form of
religion and growing prosperous in the manufacture of fine linen and
woolen cloth. Then the blow fell. Toward the end of the seventeenth
century their religious worship was put under the ban and the export of
their cloth was forbidden by the English Parliament. Within two decades
twenty thousand Scotch-Irish left Ulster alone, for America; and all
during the eighteenth century the migration continued to be heavy.
Although no exact record was kept, it is reckoned that the Scotch-Irish
and the Scotch who came directly from Scotland, composed one-sixth of
the entire American population on the eve of the Revolution.

[Illustration: SETTLEMENTS OF GERMAN AND SCOTCH-IRISH
IMMIGRANTS]

These newcomers in America made their homes chiefly in New Jersey,
Pennsylvania, Maryland, Virginia, and the Carolinas. Coming late upon
the scene, they found much of the land immediately upon the seaboard
already taken up. For this reason most of them became frontier people
settling the interior and upland regions. There they cleared the land,
laid out their small farms, and worked as "sturdy yeomen on the soil,"
hardy, industrious, and independent in spirit, sharing neither the
luxuries of the rich planters nor the easy life of the leisurely
merchants. To their agriculture they added woolen and linen
manufactures, which, flourishing in the supple fingers of their tireless
women, made heavy inroads upon the trade of the English merchants in
the colonies. Of their labors a poet has sung:

        "O, willing hands to toil;
    Strong natures tuned to the harvest-song and bound to the kindly soil;
    Bold pioneers for the wilderness, defenders in the field."

=The Germans.=--Third among the colonists in order of numerical
importance were the Germans. From the very beginning, they appeared in
colonial records. A number of the artisans and carpenters in the first
Jamestown colony were of German descent. Peter Minuit, the famous
governor of New Motherland, was a German from Wesel on the Rhine, and
Jacob Leisler, leader of a popular uprising against the provincial
administration of New York, was a German from Frankfort-on-Main. The
wholesale migration of Germans began with the founding of Pennsylvania.
Penn was diligent in searching for thrifty farmers to cultivate his
lands and he made a special effort to attract peasants from the Rhine
country. A great association, known as the Frankfort Company, bought
more than twenty thousand acres from him and in 1684 established a
center at Germantown for the distribution of German immigrants. In old
New York, Rhinebeck-on-the-Hudson became a similar center for
distribution. All the way from Maine to Georgia inducements were offered
to the German farmers and in nearly every colony were to be found, in
time, German settlements. In fact the migration became so large that
German princes were frightened at the loss of so many subjects and
England was alarmed by the influx of foreigners into her overseas
dominions. Yet nothing could stop the movement. By the end of the
colonial period, the number of Germans had risen to more than two
hundred thousand.

The majority of them were Protestants from the Rhine region, and South
Germany. Wars, religious controversies, oppression, and poverty drove
them forth to America. Though most of them were farmers, there were also
among them skilled artisans who contributed to the rapid growth of
industries in Pennsylvania. Their iron, glass, paper, and woolen mills,
dotted here and there among the thickly settled regions, added to the
wealth and independence of the province.

[Illustration: _From an old print_

A GLIMPSE OF OLD GERMANTOWN]

Unlike the Scotch-Irish, the Germans did not speak the language of the
original colonists or mingle freely with them. They kept to themselves,
built their own schools, founded their own newspapers, and published
their own books. Their clannish habits often irritated their neighbors
and led to occasional agitations against "foreigners." However, no
serious collisions seem to have occurred; and in the days of the
Revolution, German soldiers from Pennsylvania fought in the patriot
armies side by side with soldiers from the English and Scotch-Irish
sections.

=Other Nationalities.=--Though the English, the Scotch-Irish, and the
Germans made up the bulk of the colonial population, there were other
racial strains as well, varying in numerical importance but contributing
their share to colonial life.

From France came the Huguenots fleeing from the decree of the king which
inflicted terrible penalties upon Protestants.

From "Old Ireland" came thousands of native Irish, Celtic in race and
Catholic in religion. Like their Scotch-Irish neighbors to the north,
they revered neither the government nor the church of England imposed
upon them by the sword. How many came we do not know, but shipping
records of the colonial period show that boatload after boatload left
the southern and eastern shores of Ireland for the New World.
Undoubtedly thousands of their passengers were Irish of the native
stock. This surmise is well sustained by the constant appearance of
Celtic names in the records of various colonies.

[Illustration:_From an old print_

OLD DUTCH FORT AND ENGLISH CHURCH NEAR ALBANY]

The Jews, then as ever engaged in their age-long battle for religious
and economic toleration, found in the American colonies, not complete
liberty, but certainly more freedom than they enjoyed in England,
France, Spain, or Portugal. The English law did not actually recognize
their right to live in any of the dominions, but owing to the easy-going
habits of the Americans they were allowed to filter into the seaboard
towns. The treatment they received there varied. On one occasion the
mayor and council of New York forbade them to sell by retail and on
another prohibited the exercise of their religious worship. Newport,
Philadelphia, and Charleston were more hospitable, and there large
Jewish colonies, consisting principally of merchants and their families,
flourished in spite of nominal prohibitions of the law.

Though the small Swedish colony in Delaware was quickly submerged
beneath the tide of English migration, the Dutch in New York continued
to hold their own for more than a hundred years after the English
conquest in 1664. At the end of the colonial period over one-half of the
170,000 inhabitants of the province were descendants of the original
Dutch--still distinct enough to give a decided cast to the life and
manners of New York. Many of them clung as tenaciously to their mother
tongue as they did to their capacious farmhouses or their Dutch ovens;
but they were slowly losing their identity as the English pressed in
beside them to farm and trade.

The melting pot had begun its historic mission.


THE PROCESS OF COLONIZATION

Considered from one side, colonization, whatever the motives of the
emigrants, was an economic matter. It involved the use of capital to pay
for their passage, to sustain them on the voyage, and to start them on
the way of production. Under this stern economic necessity, Puritans,
Scotch-Irish, Germans, and all were alike laid.

=Immigrants Who Paid Their Own Way.=--Many of the immigrants to America
in colonial days were capitalists themselves, in a small or a large way,
and paid their own passage. What proportion of the colonists were able
to finance their voyage across the sea is a matter of pure conjecture.
Undoubtedly a very considerable number could do so, for we can trace the
family fortunes of many early settlers. Henry Cabot Lodge is authority
for the statement that "the settlers of New England were drawn from the
country gentlemen, small farmers, and yeomanry of the mother
country.... Many of the emigrants were men of wealth, as the old lists
show, and all of them, with few exceptions, were men of property and
good standing. They did not belong to the classes from which emigration
is usually supplied, for they all had a stake in the country they left
behind." Though it would be interesting to know how accurate this
statement is or how applicable to the other colonies, no study has as
yet been made to gratify that interest. For the present it is an
unsolved problem just how many of the colonists were able to bear the
cost of their own transfer to the New World.

=Indentured Servants.=--That at least tens of thousands of immigrants
were unable to pay for their passage is established beyond the shadow of
a doubt by the shipping records that have come down to us. The great
barrier in the way of the poor who wanted to go to America was the cost
of the sea voyage. To overcome this difficulty a plan was worked out
whereby shipowners and other persons of means furnished the passage
money to immigrants in return for their promise, or bond, to work for a
term of years to repay the sum advanced. This system was called
indentured servitude.

It is probable that the number of bond servants exceeded the original
twenty thousand Puritans, the yeomen, the Virginia gentlemen, and the
Huguenots combined. All the way down the coast from Massachusetts to
Georgia were to be found in the fields, kitchens, and workshops, men,
women, and children serving out terms of bondage generally ranging from
five to seven years. In the proprietary colonies the proportion of bond
servants was very high. The Baltimores, Penns, Carterets, and other
promoters anxiously sought for workers of every nationality to till
their fields, for land without labor was worth no more than land in the
moon. Hence the gates of the proprietary colonies were flung wide open.
Every inducement was offered to immigrants in the form of cheap land,
and special efforts were made to increase the population by importing
servants. In Pennsylvania, it was not uncommon to find a master with
fifty bond servants on his estate. It has been estimated that two-thirds
of all the immigrants into Pennsylvania between the opening of the
eighteenth century and the outbreak of the Revolution were in bondage.
In the other Middle colonies the number was doubtless not so large; but
it formed a considerable part of the population.

The story of this traffic in white servants is one of the most striking
things in the history of labor. Bondmen differed from the serfs of the
feudal age in that they were not bound to the soil but to the master.
They likewise differed from the negro slaves in that their servitude had
a time limit. Still they were subject to many special disabilities. It
was, for instance, a common practice to impose on them penalties far
heavier than were imposed upon freemen for the same offense. A free
citizen of Pennsylvania who indulged in horse racing and gambling was
let off with a fine; a white servant guilty of the same unlawful conduct
was whipped at the post and fined as well.

The ordinary life of the white servant was also severely restricted. A
bondman could not marry without his master's consent; nor engage in
trade; nor refuse work assigned to him. For an attempt to escape or
indeed for any infraction of the law, the term of service was extended.
The condition of white bondmen in Virginia, according to Lodge, "was
little better than that of slaves. Loose indentures and harsh laws put
them at the mercy of their masters." It would not be unfair to add that
such was their lot in all other colonies. Their fate depended upon the
temper of their masters.

Cruel as was the system in many ways, it gave thousands of people in the
Old World a chance to reach the New--an opportunity to wrestle with fate
for freedom and a home of their own. When their weary years of servitude
were over, if they survived, they might obtain land of their own or
settle as free mechanics in the towns. For many a bondman the gamble
proved to be a losing venture because he found himself unable to rise
out of the state of poverty and dependence into which his servitude
carried him. For thousands, on the contrary, bondage proved to be a real
avenue to freedom and prosperity. Some of the best citizens of America
have the blood of indentured servants in their veins.

=The Transported--Involuntary Servitude.=--In their anxiety to secure
settlers, the companies and proprietors having colonies in America
either resorted to or connived at the practice of kidnapping men, women,
and children from the streets of English cities. In 1680 it was
officially estimated that "ten thousand persons were spirited away" to
America. Many of the victims of the practice were young children, for
the traffic in them was highly profitable. Orphans and dependents were
sometimes disposed of in America by relatives unwilling to support them.
In a single year, 1627, about fifteen hundred children were shipped to
Virginia.

In this gruesome business there lurked many tragedies, and very few
romances. Parents were separated from their children and husbands from
their wives. Hundreds of skilled artisans--carpenters, smiths, and
weavers--utterly disappeared as if swallowed up by death. A few thus
dragged off to the New World to be sold into servitude for a term of
five or seven years later became prosperous and returned home with
fortunes. In one case a young man who was forcibly carried over the sea
lived to make his way back to England and establish his claim to a
peerage.

Akin to the kidnapped, at least in economic position, were convicts
deported to the colonies for life in lieu of fines and imprisonment. The
Americans protested vigorously but ineffectually against this practice.
Indeed, they exaggerated its evils, for many of the "criminals" were
only mild offenders against unduly harsh and cruel laws. A peasant
caught shooting a rabbit on a lord's estate or a luckless servant girl
who purloined a pocket handkerchief was branded as a criminal along with
sturdy thieves and incorrigible rascals. Other transported offenders
were "political criminals"; that is, persons who criticized or opposed
the government. This class included now Irish who revolted against
British rule in Ireland; now Cavaliers who championed the king against
the Puritan revolutionists; Puritans, in turn, dispatched after the
monarchy was restored; and Scotch and English subjects in general who
joined in political uprisings against the king.

=The African Slaves.=--Rivaling in numbers, in the course of time, the
indentured servants and whites carried to America against their will
were the African negroes brought to America and sold into slavery. When
this form of bondage was first introduced into Virginia in 1619, it was
looked upon as a temporary necessity to be discarded with the increase
of the white population. Moreover it does not appear that those planters
who first bought negroes at the auction block intended to establish a
system of permanent bondage. Only by a slow process did chattel slavery
take firm root and become recognized as the leading source of the labor
supply. In 1650, thirty years after the introduction of slavery, there
were only three hundred Africans in Virginia.

The great increase in later years was due in no small measure to the
inordinate zeal for profits that seized slave traders both in Old and in
New England. Finding it relatively easy to secure negroes in Africa,
they crowded the Southern ports with their vessels. The English Royal
African Company sent to America annually between 1713 and 1743 from five
to ten thousand slaves. The ship owners of New England were not far
behind their English brethren in pushing this extraordinary traffic.

As the proportion of the negroes to the free white population steadily
rose, and as whole sections were overrun with slaves and slave traders,
the Southern colonies grew alarmed. In 1710, Virginia sought to curtail
the importation by placing a duty of $5 on each slave. This effort was
futile, for the royal governor promptly vetoed it. From time to time
similar bills were passed, only to meet with royal disapproval. South
Carolina, in 1760, absolutely prohibited importation; but the measure
was killed by the British crown. As late as 1772, Virginia, not daunted
by a century of rebuffs, sent to George III a petition in this vein:
"The importation of slaves into the colonies from the coast of Africa
hath long been considered as a trade of great inhumanity and under its
present encouragement, we have too much reason to fear, will endanger
the very existence of Your Majesty's American dominions.... Deeply
impressed with these sentiments, we most humbly beseech Your Majesty to
remove all those restraints on Your Majesty's governors of this colony
which inhibit their assenting to such laws as might check so very
pernicious a commerce."

All such protests were without avail. The negro population grew by leaps
and bounds, until on the eve of the Revolution it amounted to more than
half a million. In five states--Maryland, Virginia, the two Carolinas,
and Georgia--the slaves nearly equalled or actually exceeded the whites
in number. In South Carolina they formed almost two-thirds of the
population. Even in the Middle colonies of Delaware and Pennsylvania
about one-fifth of the inhabitants were from Africa. To the North, the
proportion of slaves steadily diminished although chattel servitude was
on the same legal footing as in the South. In New York approximately one
in six and in New England one in fifty were negroes, including a few
freedmen.

The climate, the soil, the commerce, and the industry of the North were
all unfavorable to the growth of a servile population. Still, slavery,
though sectional, was a part of the national system of economy. Northern
ships carried slaves to the Southern colonies and the produce of the
plantations to Europe. "If the Northern states will consult their
interest, they will not oppose the increase in slaves which will
increase the commodities of which they will become the carriers," said
John Rutledge, of South Carolina, in the convention which framed the
Constitution of the United States. "What enriches a part enriches the
whole and the states are the best judges of their particular interest,"
responded Oliver Ellsworth, the distinguished spokesman of Connecticut.

=References=

E. Charming, _History of the United States_, Vols. I and II.

J.A. Doyle, _The English Colonies in America_ (5 vols.).

J. Fiske, _Old Virginia and Her Neighbors_ (2 vols.).

A.B. Faust, _The German Element in the United States_ (2 vols.).

H.J. Ford, _The Scotch-Irish in America_.

L. Tyler, _England in America_ (American Nation Series).

R. Usher, _The Pilgrims and Their History_.


=Questions=

1. America has been called a nation of immigrants. Explain why.

2. Why were individuals unable to go alone to America in the beginning?
What agencies made colonization possible? Discuss each of them.

3. Make a table of the colonies, showing the methods employed in their
settlement.

4. Why were capital and leadership so very important in early
colonization?

5. What is meant by the "melting pot"? What nationalities were
represented among the early colonists?

6. Compare the way immigrants come to-day with the way they came in
colonial times.

7. Contrast indentured servitude with slavery and serfdom.

8. Account for the anxiety of companies and proprietors to secure
colonists.

9. What forces favored the heavy importation of slaves?

10. In what way did the North derive advantages from slavery?


=Research Topics=

=The Chartered Company.=--Compare the first and third charters of
Virginia in Macdonald, _Documentary Source Book of American History_,
1606-1898, pp. 1-14. Analyze the first and second Massachusetts charters
in Macdonald, pp. 22-84. Special reference: W.A.S. Hewins, _English
Trading Companies_.

=Congregations and Compacts for Self-government.=--A study of the
Mayflower Compact, the Fundamental Orders of Connecticut and the
Fundamental Articles of New Haven in Macdonald, pp. 19, 36, 39.
Reference: Charles Borgeaud, _Rise of Modern Democracy_, and C.S.
Lobingier, _The People's Law_, Chaps. I-VII.

=The Proprietary System.=--Analysis of Penn's charter of 1681, in
Macdonald, p. 80. Reference: Lodge, _Short History of the English
Colonies in America_, p. 211.

=Studies of Individual Colonies.=--Review of outstanding events in
history of each colony, using Elson, _History of the United States_, pp.
55-159, as the basis.

=Biographical Studies.=--John Smith, John Winthrop, William Penn, Lord
Baltimore, William Bradford, Roger Williams, Anne Hutchinson, Thomas
Hooker, and Peter Stuyvesant, using any good encyclopedia.

=Indentured Servitude.=--In Virginia, Lodge, _Short History_, pp. 69-72;
in Pennsylvania, pp. 242-244. Contemporary account in Callender,
_Economic History of the United States_, pp. 44-51. Special reference:
Karl Geiser, _Redemptioners and Indentured Servants_ (Yale Review, X,
No. 2 Supplement).

=Slavery.=--In Virginia, Lodge, _Short History_, pp. 67-69; in the
Northern colonies, pp. 241, 275, 322, 408, 442.

=The People of the Colonies.=--Virginia, Lodge, _Short History_, pp.
67-73; New England, pp. 406-409, 441-450; Pennsylvania, pp. 227-229,
240-250; New York, pp. 312-313, 322-335.




CHAPTER II

COLONIAL AGRICULTURE, INDUSTRY, AND COMMERCE

THE LAND AND THE WESTWARD MOVEMENT


=The Significance of Land Tenure.=--The way in which land may be
acquired, held, divided among heirs, and bought and sold exercises a
deep influence on the life and culture of a people. The feudal and
aristocratic societies of Europe were founded on a system of landlordism
which was characterized by two distinct features. In the first place,
the land was nearly all held in great estates, each owned by a single
proprietor. In the second place, every estate was kept intact under the
law of primogeniture, which at the death of a lord transferred all his
landed property to his eldest son. This prevented the subdivision of
estates and the growth of a large body of small farmers or freeholders
owning their own land. It made a form of tenantry or servitude
inevitable for the mass of those who labored on the land. It also
enabled the landlords to maintain themselves in power as a governing
class and kept the tenants and laborers subject to their economic and
political control. If land tenure was so significant in Europe, it was
equally important in the development of America, where practically all
the first immigrants were forced by circumstances to derive their
livelihood from the soil.

=Experiments in Common Tillage.=--In the New World, with its broad
extent of land awaiting the white man's plow, it was impossible to
introduce in its entirety and over the whole area the system of lords
and tenants that existed across the sea. So it happened that almost
every kind of experiment in land tenure, from communism to feudalism,
was tried. In the early days of the Jamestown colony, the land, though
owned by the London Company, was tilled in common by the settlers. No
man had a separate plot of his own. The motto of the community was:
"Labor and share alike." All were supposed to work in the fields and
receive an equal share of the produce. At Plymouth, the Pilgrims
attempted a similar experiment, laying out the fields in common and
distributing the joint produce of their labor with rough equality among
the workers.

In both colonies the communistic experiments were failures. Angry at the
lazy men in Jamestown who idled their time away and yet expected regular
meals, Captain John Smith issued a manifesto: "Everyone that gathereth
not every day as much as I do, the next day shall be set beyond the
river and forever banished from the fort and live there or starve." Even
this terrible threat did not bring a change in production. Not until
each man was given a plot of his own to till, not until each gathered
the fruits of his own labor, did the colony prosper. In Plymouth, where
the communal experiment lasted for five years, the results were similar
to those in Virginia, and the system was given up for one of separate
fields in which every person could "set corn for his own particular."
Some other New England towns, refusing to profit by the experience of
their Plymouth neighbor, also made excursions into common ownership and
labor, only to abandon the idea and go in for individual ownership of
the land. "By degrees it was seen that even the Lord's people could not
carry the complicated communist legislation into perfect and wholesome
practice."

=Feudal Elements in the Colonies--Quit Rents, Manors, and
Plantations.=--At the other end of the scale were the feudal elements of
land tenure found in the proprietary colonies, in the seaboard regions
of the South, and to some extent in New York. The proprietor was in fact
a powerful feudal lord, owning land granted to him by royal charter. He
could retain any part of it for his personal use or dispose of it all in
large or small lots. While he generally kept for himself an estate of
baronial proportions, it was impossible for him to manage directly any
considerable part of the land in his dominion. Consequently he either
sold it in parcels for lump sums or granted it to individuals on
condition that they make to him an annual payment in money, known as
"quit rent." In Maryland, the proprietor sometimes collected as high as
$9000 (equal to about $500,000 to-day) in a single year from this
source. In Pennsylvania, the quit rents brought a handsome annual
tribute into the exchequer of the Penn family. In the royal provinces,
the king of England claimed all revenues collected in this form from the
land, a sum amounting to $19,000 at the time of the Revolution. The quit
rent,--"really a feudal payment from freeholders,"--was thus a material
source of income for the crown as well as for the proprietors. Wherever
it was laid, however, it proved to be a burden, a source of constant
irritation; and it became a formidable item in the long list of
grievances which led to the American Revolution.

Something still more like the feudal system of the Old World appeared in
the numerous manors or the huge landed estates granted by the crown, the
companies, or the proprietors. In the colony of Maryland alone there
were sixty manors of three thousand acres each, owned by wealthy men and
tilled by tenants holding small plots under certain restrictions of
tenure. In New York also there were many manors of wide extent, most of
which originated in the days of the Dutch West India Company, when
extensive concessions were made to patroons to induce them to bring over
settlers. The Van Rensselaer, the Van Cortlandt, and the Livingston
manors were so large and populous that each was entitled to send a
representative to the provincial legislature. The tenants on the New
York manors were in somewhat the same position as serfs on old European
estates. They were bound to pay the owner a rent in money and kind; they
ground their grain at his mill; and they were subject to his judicial
power because he held court and meted out justice, in some instances
extending to capital punishment.

The manors of New York or Maryland were, however, of slight consequence
as compared with the vast plantations of the Southern seaboard--huge
estates, far wider in expanse than many a European barony and tilled by
slaves more servile than any feudal tenants. It must not be forgotten
that this system of land tenure became the dominant feature of a large
section and gave a decided bent to the economic and political life of
America.

[Illustration: SOUTHERN PLANTATION MANSION]

=The Small Freehold.=--In the upland regions of the South, however, and
throughout most of the North, the drift was against all forms of
servitude and tenantry and in the direction of the freehold; that is,
the small farm owned outright and tilled by the possessor and his
family. This was favored by natural circumstances and the spirit of the
immigrants. For one thing, the abundance of land and the scarcity of
labor made it impossible for the companies, the proprietors, or the
crown to develop over the whole continent a network of vast estates. In
many sections, particularly in New England, the climate, the stony soil,
the hills, and the narrow valleys conspired to keep the farms within a
moderate compass. For another thing, the English, Scotch-Irish, and
German peasants, even if they had been tenants in the Old World, did not
propose to accept permanent dependency of any kind in the New. If they
could not get freeholds, they would not settle at all; thus they forced
proprietors and companies to bid for their enterprise by selling land in
small lots. So it happened that the freehold of modest proportions
became the cherished unit of American farmers. The people who tilled the
farms were drawn from every quarter of western Europe; but the freehold
system gave a uniform cast to their economic and social life in America.

[Illustration: _From an old print_

A NEW ENGLAND FARMHOUSE]

=Social Effects of Land Tenure.=--Land tenure and the process of western
settlement thus developed two distinct types of people engaged in the
same pursuit--agriculture. They had a common tie in that they both
cultivated the soil and possessed the local interest and independence
which arise from that occupation. Their methods and their culture,
however, differed widely.

The Southern planter, on his broad acres tilled by slaves, resembled the
English landlord on his estates more than he did the colonial farmer who
labored with his own hands in the fields and forests. He sold his rice
and tobacco in large amounts directly to English factors, who took his
entire crop in exchange for goods and cash. His fine clothes,
silverware, china, and cutlery he bought in English markets. Loving the
ripe old culture of the mother country, he often sent his sons to Oxford
or Cambridge for their education. In short, he depended very largely for
his prosperity and his enjoyment of life upon close relations with the
Old World. He did not even need market towns in which to buy native
goods, for they were made on his own plantation by his own artisans who
were usually gifted slaves.

The economic condition of the small farmer was totally different. His
crops were not big enough to warrant direct connection with English
factors or the personal maintenance of a corps of artisans. He needed
local markets, and they sprang up to meet the need. Smiths, hatters,
weavers, wagon-makers, and potters at neighboring towns supplied him
with the rough products of their native skill. The finer goods, bought
by the rich planter in England, the small farmer ordinarily could not
buy. His wants were restricted to staples like tea and sugar, and
between him and the European market stood the merchant. His community
was therefore more self-sufficient than the seaboard line of great
plantations. It was more isolated, more provincial, more independent,
more American. The planter faced the Old East. The farmer faced the New
West.

=The Westward Movement.=--Yeoman and planter nevertheless were alike in
one respect. Their land hunger was never appeased. Each had the eye of
an expert for new and fertile soil; and so, north and south, as soon as
a foothold was secured on the Atlantic coast, the current of migration
set in westward, creeping through forests, across rivers, and over
mountains. Many of the later immigrants, in their search for cheap
lands, were compelled to go to the border; but in a large part the path
breakers to the West were native Americans of the second and third
generations. Explorers, fired by curiosity and the lure of the
mysterious unknown, and hunters, fur traders, and squatters, following
their own sweet wills, blazed the trail, opening paths and sending back
stories of the new regions they traversed. Then came the regular
settlers with lawful titles to the lands they had purchased, sometimes
singly and sometimes in companies.

In Massachusetts, the westward movement is recorded in the founding of
Springfield in 1636 and Great Barrington in 1725. By the opening of the
eighteenth century the pioneers of Connecticut had pushed north and west
until their outpost towns adjoined the Hudson Valley settlements. In New
York, the inland movement was directed by the Hudson River to Albany,
and from that old Dutch center it radiated in every direction,
particularly westward through the Mohawk Valley. New Jersey was early
filled to its borders, the beginnings of the present city of New
Brunswick being made in 1681 and those of Trenton in 1685. In
Pennsylvania, as in New York, the waterways determined the main lines of
advance. Pioneers, pushing up through the valley of the Schuylkill,
spread over the fertile lands of Berks and Lancaster counties, laying
out Reading in 1748. Another current of migration was directed by the
Susquehanna, and, in 1726, the first farmhouse was built on the bank
where Harrisburg was later founded. Along the southern tier of counties
a thin line of settlements stretched westward to Pittsburgh, reaching
the upper waters of the Ohio while the colony was still under the Penn
family.

In the South the westward march was equally swift. The seaboard was
quickly occupied by large planters and their slaves engaged in the
cultivation of tobacco and rice. The Piedmont Plateau, lying back from
the coast all the way from Maryland to Georgia, was fed by two streams
of migration, one westward from the sea and the other southward from the
other colonies--Germans from Pennsylvania and Scotch-Irish furnishing
the main supply. "By 1770, tide-water Virginia was full to overflowing
and the 'back country' of the Blue Ridge and the Shenandoah was fully
occupied. Even the mountain valleys ... were claimed by sturdy pioneers.
Before the Declaration of Independence, the oncoming tide of
home-seekers had reached the crest of the Alleghanies."

[Illustration: DISTRIBUTION OF POPULATION, 1790]

Beyond the mountains pioneers had already ventured, harbingers of an
invasion that was about to break in upon Kentucky and Tennessee. As
early as 1769 that mighty Nimrod, Daniel Boone, curious to hunt
buffaloes, of which he had heard weird reports, passed through the
Cumberland Gap and brought back news of a wonderful country awaiting the
plow. A hint was sufficient. Singly, in pairs, and in groups, settlers
followed the trail he had blazed. A great land corporation, the
Transylvania Company, emulating the merchant adventurers of earlier
times, secured a huge grant of territory and sought profits in quit
rents from lands sold to farmers. By the outbreak of the Revolution
there were several hundred people in the Kentucky region. Like the older
colonists, they did not relish quit rents, and their opposition wrecked
the Transylvania Company. They even carried their protests into the
Continental Congress in 1776, for by that time they were our "embryo
fourteenth colony."


INDUSTRIAL AND COMMERCIAL DEVELOPMENT

Though the labor of the colonists was mainly spent in farming, there was
a steady growth in industrial and commercial pursuits. Most of the
staple industries of to-day, not omitting iron and textiles, have their
beginnings in colonial times. Manufacturing and trade soon gave rise to
towns which enjoyed an importance all out of proportion to their
numbers. The great centers of commerce and finance on the seaboard
originated in the days when the king of England was "lord of these
dominions."

[Illustration: DOMESTIC INDUSTRY: DIPPING TALLOW CANDLES]

=Textile Manufacture as a Domestic Industry.=--Colonial women, in
addition to sharing every hardship of pioneering, often the heavy labor
of the open field, developed in the course of time a national industry
which was almost exclusively their own. Wool and flax were raised in
abundance in the North and South. "Every farm house," says Coman, the
economic historian, "was a workshop where the women spun and wove the
serges, kerseys, and linsey-woolseys which served for the common wear."
By the close of the seventeenth century, New England manufactured cloth
in sufficient quantities to export it to the Southern colonies and to
the West Indies. As the industry developed, mills were erected for the
more difficult process of dyeing, weaving, and fulling, but carding and
spinning continued to be done in the home. The Dutch of New Netherland,
the Swedes of Delaware, and the Scotch-Irish of the interior "were not
one whit behind their Yankee neighbors."

The importance of this enterprise to British economic life can hardly be
overestimated. For many a century the English had employed their fine
woolen cloth as the chief staple in a lucrative foreign trade, and the
government had come to look upon it as an object of special interest and
protection. When the colonies were established, both merchants and
statesmen naturally expected to maintain a monopoly of increasing value;
but before long the Americans, instead of buying cloth, especially of
the coarser varieties, were making it to sell. In the place of
customers, here were rivals. In the place of helpless reliance upon
English markets, here was the germ of economic independence.

If British merchants had not discovered it in the ordinary course of
trade, observant officers in the provinces would have conveyed the news
to them. Even in the early years of the eighteenth century the royal
governor of New York wrote of the industrious Americans to his home
government: "The consequence will be that if they can clothe themselves
once, not only comfortably, but handsomely too, without the help of
England, they who already are not very fond of submitting to government
will soon think of putting in execution designs they have long harboured
in their breasts. This will not seem strange when you consider what sort
of people this country is inhabited by."

=The Iron Industry.=--Almost equally widespread was the art of iron
working--one of the earliest and most picturesque of colonial
industries. Lynn, Massachusetts, had a forge and skilled artisans within
fifteen years after the founding of Boston. The smelting of iron began
at New London and New Haven about 1658; in Litchfield county,
Connecticut, a few years later; at Great Barrington, Massachusetts, in
1731; and near by at Lenox some thirty years after that. New Jersey had
iron works at Shrewsbury within ten years after the founding of the
colony in 1665. Iron forges appeared in the valleys of the Delaware and
the Susquehanna early in the following century, and iron masters then
laid the foundations of fortunes in a region destined to become one of
the great iron centers of the world. Virginia began iron working in the
year that saw the introduction of slavery. Although the industry soon
lapsed, it was renewed and flourished in the eighteenth century.
Governor Spotswood was called the "Tubal Cain" of the Old Dominion
because he placed the industry on a firm foundation. Indeed it seems
that every colony, except Georgia, had its iron foundry. Nails, wire,
metallic ware, chains, anchors, bar and pig iron were made in large
quantities; and Great Britain, by an act in 1750, encouraged the
colonists to export rough iron to the British Islands.

=Shipbuilding.=--Of all the specialized industries in the colonies,
shipbuilding was the most important. The abundance of fir for masts, oak
for timbers and boards, pitch for tar and turpentine, and hemp for rope
made the way of the shipbuilder easy. Early in the seventeenth century a
ship was built at New Amsterdam, and by the middle of that century
shipyards were scattered along the New England coast at Newburyport,
Salem, New Bedford, Newport, Providence, New London, and New Haven.
Yards at Albany and Poughkeepsie in New York built ships for the trade
of that colony with England and the Indies. Wilmington and Philadelphia
soon entered the race and outdistanced New York, though unable to equal
the pace set by New England. While Maryland, Virginia, and South
Carolina also built ships, Southern interest was mainly confined to the
lucrative business of producing ship materials: fir, cedar, hemp, and
tar.

=Fishing.=--The greatest single economic resource of New England outside
of agriculture was the fisheries. This industry, started by hardy
sailors from Europe, long before the landing of the Pilgrims, flourished
under the indomitable seamanship of the Puritans, who labored with the
net and the harpoon in almost every quarter of the Atlantic. "Look,"
exclaimed Edmund Burke, in the House of Commons, "at the manner in
which the people of New England have of late carried on the whale
fishery. Whilst we follow them among the tumbling mountains of ice and
behold them penetrating into the deepest frozen recesses of Hudson's Bay
and Davis's Straits, while we are looking for them beneath the arctic
circle, we hear that they have pierced into the opposite region of polar
cold, that they are at the antipodes and engaged under the frozen
serpent of the south.... Nor is the equinoctial heat more discouraging
to them than the accumulated winter of both poles. We know that, whilst
some of them draw the line and strike the harpoon on the coast of
Africa, others run the longitude and pursue their gigantic game along
the coast of Brazil. No sea but what is vexed by their fisheries. No
climate that is not witness to their toils. Neither the perseverance of
Holland nor the activity of France nor the dexterous and firm sagacity
of English enterprise ever carried this most perilous mode of hard
industry to the extent to which it has been pushed by this recent
people."

The influence of the business was widespread. A large and lucrative
European trade was built upon it. The better quality of the fish caught
for food was sold in the markets of Spain, Portugal, and Italy, or
exchanged for salt, lemons, and raisins for the American market. The
lower grades of fish were carried to the West Indies for slave
consumption, and in part traded for sugar and molasses, which furnished
the raw materials for the thriving rum industry of New England. These
activities, in turn, stimulated shipbuilding, steadily enlarging the
demand for fishing and merchant craft of every kind and thus keeping the
shipwrights, calkers, rope makers, and other artisans of the seaport
towns rushed with work. They also increased trade with the mother
country for, out of the cash collected in the fish markets of Europe and
the West Indies, the colonists paid for English manufactures. So an
ever-widening circle of American enterprise centered around this single
industry, the nursery of seamanship and the maritime spirit.

=Oceanic Commerce and American Merchants.=--All through the eighteenth
century, the commerce of the American colonies spread in every direction
until it rivaled in the number of people employed, the capital engaged,
and the profits gleaned, the commerce of European nations. A modern
historian has said: "The enterprising merchants of New England developed
a network of trade routes that covered well-nigh half the world." This
commerce, destined to be of such significance in the conflict with the
mother country, presented, broadly speaking, two aspects.

On the one side, it involved the export of raw materials and
agricultural produce. The Southern colonies produced for shipping,
tobacco, rice, tar, pitch, and pine; the Middle colonies, grain, flour,
furs, lumber, and salt pork; New England, fish, flour, rum, furs, shoes,
and small articles of manufacture. The variety of products was in fact
astounding. A sarcastic writer, while sneering at the idea of an
American union, once remarked of colonial trade: "What sort of dish will
you make? New England will throw in fish and onions. The middle states,
flax-seed and flour. Maryland and Virginia will add tobacco. North
Carolina, pitch, tar, and turpentine. South Carolina, rice and indigo,
and Georgia will sprinkle the whole composition with sawdust. Such an
absurd jumble will you make if you attempt to form a union among such
discordant materials as the thirteen British provinces."

On the other side, American commerce involved the import trade,
consisting principally of English and continental manufactures, tea, and
"India goods." Sugar and molasses, brought from the West Indies,
supplied the flourishing distilleries of Massachusetts, Rhode Island,
and Connecticut. The carriage of slaves from Africa to the Southern
colonies engaged hundreds of New England's sailors and thousands of
pounds of her capital.

The disposition of imported goods in the colonies, though in part
controlled by English factors located in America, employed also a large
and important body of American merchants like the Willings and Morrises
of Philadelphia; the Amorys, Hancocks, and Faneuils of Boston; and the
Livingstons and Lows of New York. In their zeal and enterprise, they
were worthy rivals of their English competitors, so celebrated for
world-wide commercial operations. Though fully aware of the advantages
they enjoyed in British markets and under the protection of the British
navy, the American merchants were high-spirited and mettlesome, ready to
contend with royal officers in order to shield American interests
against outside interference.

[Illustration: THE DUTCH WEST INDIA WAREHOUSE IN NEW AMSTERDAM
(NEW YORK CITY)]

Measured against the immense business of modern times, colonial commerce
seems perhaps trivial. That, however, is not the test of its
significance. It must be considered in relation to the growth of English
colonial trade in its entirety--a relation which can be shown by a few
startling figures. The whole export trade of England, including that to
the colonies, was, in 1704, $6,509,000. On the eve of the American
Revolution, namely, in 1772, English exports to the American colonies
alone amounted to $6,024,000; in other words, almost as much as the
whole foreign business of England two generations before. At the first
date, colonial trade was but one-twelfth of the English export business;
at the second date, it was considerably more than one-third. In 1704,
Pennsylvania bought in English markets goods to the value of $11,459; in
1772 the purchases of the same colony amounted to $507,909. In short,
Pennsylvania imports increased fifty times within sixty-eight years,
amounting in 1772 to almost the entire export trade of England to the
colonies at the opening of the century. The American colonies were
indeed a great source of wealth to English merchants.

=Intercolonial Commerce.=--Although the bad roads of colonial times made
overland transportation difficult and costly, the many rivers and
harbors along the coast favored a lively water-borne trade among the
colonies. The Connecticut, Hudson, Delaware, and Susquehanna rivers in
the North and the many smaller rivers in the South made it possible for
goods to be brought from, and carried to, the interior regions in little
sailing vessels with comparative ease. Sloops laden with manufactures,
domestic and foreign, collected at some city like Providence, New York,
or Philadelphia, skirted the coasts, visited small ports, and sailed up
the navigable rivers to trade with local merchants who had for exchange
the raw materials which they had gathered in from neighboring farms.
Larger ships carried the grain, live stock, cloth, and hardware of New
England to the Southern colonies, where they were traded for tobacco,
leather, tar, and ship timber. From the harbors along the Connecticut
shores there were frequent sailings down through Long Island Sound to
Maryland, Virginia, and the distant Carolinas.

=Growth of Towns.=--In connection with this thriving trade and industry
there grew up along the coast a number of prosperous commercial centers
which were soon reckoned among the first commercial towns of the whole
British empire, comparing favorably in numbers and wealth with such
ports as Liverpool and Bristol. The statistical records of that time are
mainly guesses; but we know that Philadelphia stood first in size among
these towns. Serving as the port of entry for Pennsylvania, Delaware,
and western Jersey, it had drawn within its borders, just before the
Revolution, about 25,000 inhabitants. Boston was second in rank, with
somewhat more than 20,000 people. New York, the "commercial capital of
Connecticut and old East Jersey," was slightly smaller than Boston, but
growing at a steady rate. The fourth town in size was Charleston, South
Carolina, with about 10,000 inhabitants. Newport in Rhode Island, a
center of rum manufacture and shipping, stood fifth, with a population
of about 7000. Baltimore and Norfolk were counted as "considerable
towns." In the interior, Hartford in Connecticut, Lancaster and York in
Pennsylvania, and Albany in New York, with growing populations and
increasing trade, gave prophecy of an urban America away from the
seaboard. The other towns were straggling villages. Williamsburg,
Virginia, for example, had about two hundred houses, in which dwelt a
dozen families of the gentry and a few score of tradesmen. Inland county
seats often consisted of nothing more than a log courthouse, a prison,
and one wretched inn to house judges, lawyers, and litigants during the
sessions of the court.

The leading towns exercised an influence on colonial opinion all out of
proportion to their population. They were the centers of wealth, for one
thing; of the press and political activity, for another. Merchants and
artisans could readily take concerted action on public questions arising
from their commercial operations. The towns were also centers for news,
gossip, religious controversy, and political discussion. In the market
places the farmers from the countryside learned of British policies and
laws, and so, mingling with the townsmen, were drawn into the main
currents of opinion which set in toward colonial nationalism and
independence.


=References=

J. Bishop, _History of American Manufactures_ (2 vols.).

E.L. Bogart, _Economic History of the United States_.

P.A. Bruce, _Economic History of Virginia_ (2 vols.).

E. Semple, _American History and Its Geographical Conditions_.

W. Weeden, _Economic and Social History of New England_. (2 vols.).


=Questions=

1. Is land in your community parceled out into small farms? Contrast the
system in your community with the feudal system of land tenure.

2. Are any things owned and used in common in your community? Why did
common tillage fail in colonial times?

3. Describe the elements akin to feudalism which were introduced in the
colonies.

4. Explain the success of freehold tillage.

5. Compare the life of the planter with that of the farmer.

6. How far had the western frontier advanced by 1776?

7. What colonial industry was mainly developed by women? Why was it very
important both to the Americans and to the English?

8. What were the centers for iron working? Ship building?

9. Explain how the fisheries affected many branches of trade and
industry.

10. Show how American trade formed a vital part of English business.

11. How was interstate commerce mainly carried on?

12. What were the leading towns? Did they compare in importance with
British towns of the same period?


=Research Topics=

=Land Tenure.=--Coman, _Industrial History_ (rev. ed.), pp. 32-38.
Special reference: Bruce, _Economic History of Virginia_, Vol. I, Chap.
VIII.

=Tobacco Planting in Virginia.=--Callender, _Economic History of the
United States_, pp. 22-28.

=Colonial Agriculture.=--Coman, pp. 48-63. Callender, pp. 69-74.
Reference: J.R.H. Moore, _Industrial History of the American People_,
pp. 131-162.

=Colonial Manufactures.=--Coman, pp. 63-73. Callender, pp. 29-44.
Special reference: Weeden, _Economic and Social History of New England_.

=Colonial Commerce.=--Coman, pp. 73-85. Callender, pp. 51-63, 78-84.
Moore, pp. 163-208. Lodge, _Short History of the English Colonies_, pp.
409-412, 229-231, 312-314.




Chapter III

SOCIAL AND POLITICAL PROGRESS


Colonial life, crowded as it was with hard and unremitting toil, left
scant leisure for the cultivation of the arts and sciences. There was
little money in private purses or public treasuries to be dedicated to
schools, libraries, and museums. Few there were with time to read long
and widely, and fewer still who could devote their lives to things that
delight the eye and the mind. And yet, poor and meager as the
intellectual life of the colonists may seem by way of comparison, heroic
efforts were made in every community to lift the people above the plane
of mere existence. After the first clearings were opened in the forests
those efforts were redoubled, and with lengthening years told upon the
thought and spirit of the land. The appearance, during the struggle with
England, of an extraordinary group of leaders familiar with history,
political philosophy, and the arts of war, government, and diplomacy
itself bore eloquent testimony to the high quality of the American
intellect. No one, not even the most critical, can run through the
writings of distinguished Americans scattered from Massachusetts to
Georgia--the Adamses, Ellsworth, the Morrises, the Livingstons,
Hamilton, Franklin, Washington, Madison, Marshall, Henry, the Randolphs,
and the Pinckneys--without coming to the conclusion that there was
something in American colonial life which fostered minds of depth and
power. Women surmounted even greater difficulties than the men in the
process of self-education, and their keen interest in public issues is
evident in many a record like the _Letters_ of Mrs. John Adams to her
husband during the Revolution; the writings of Mrs. Mercy Otis Warren,
the sister of James Otis, who measured her pen with the British
propagandists; and the patriot newspapers founded and managed by women.


THE LEADERSHIP OF THE CHURCHES

In the intellectual life of America, the churches assumed a role of high
importance. There were abundant reasons for this. In many of the
colonies--Maryland, Pennsylvania, and New England--the religious impulse
had been one of the impelling motives in stimulating immigration. In all
the colonies, the clergy, at least in the beginning, formed the only
class with any leisure to devote to matters of the spirit. They preached
on Sundays and taught school on week days. They led in the discussion of
local problems and in the formation of political opinion, so much of
which was concerned with the relation between church and state. They
wrote books and pamphlets. They filled most of the chairs in the
colleges; under clerical guidance, intellectual and spiritual, the
Americans received their formal education. In several of the provinces
the Anglican Church was established by law. In New England the Puritans
were supreme, notwithstanding the efforts of the crown to overbear their
authority. In the Middle colonies, particularly, the multiplication of
sects made the dominance of any single denomination impossible; and in
all of them there was a growing diversity of faith, which promised in
time a separation of church and state and freedom of opinion.

=The Church of England.=--Virginia was the stronghold of the English
system of church and state. The Anglican faith and worship were
prescribed by law, sustained by taxes imposed on all, and favored by the
governor, the provincial councilors, and the richest planters. "The
Established Church," says Lodge, "was one of the appendages of the
Virginia aristocracy. They controlled the vestries and the ministers,
and the parish church stood not infrequently on the estate of the
planter who built and managed it." As in England, Catholics and
Protestant Dissenters were at first laid under heavy disabilities. Only
slowly and on sufferance were they admitted to the province; but when
once they were even covertly tolerated, they pressed steadily in, until,
by the Revolution, they outnumbered the adherents of the established
order.

The Church was also sanctioned by law and supported by taxes in the
Carolinas after 1704, and in Georgia after that colony passed directly
under the crown in 1754--this in spite of the fact that the majority of
the inhabitants were Dissenters. Against the protests of the Catholics
it was likewise established in Maryland. In New York, too,
notwithstanding the resistance of the Dutch, the Established Church was
fostered by the provincial officials, and the Anglicans, embracing about
one-fifteenth of the population, exerted an influence all out of
proportion to their numbers.

Many factors helped to enhance the power of the English Church in the
colonies. It was supported by the British government and the official
class sent out to the provinces. Its bishops and archbishops in England
were appointed by the king, and its faith and service were set forth by
acts of Parliament. Having its seat of power in the English monarchy, it
could hold its clergy and missionaries loyal to the crown and so
counteract to some extent the independent spirit that was growing up in
America. The Church, always a strong bulwark of the state, therefore had
a political role to play here as in England. Able bishops and far-seeing
leaders firmly grasped this fact about the middle of the eighteenth
century and redoubled their efforts to augment the influence of the
Church in provincial affairs. Unhappily for their plans they failed to
calculate in advance the effect of their methods upon dissenting
Protestants, who still cherished memories of bitter religious conflicts
in the mother country.

=Puritanism in New England.=--If the established faith made for imperial
unity, the same could not be said of Puritanism. The Plymouth Pilgrims
had cast off all allegiance to the Anglican Church and established a
separate and independent congregation before they came to America. The
Puritans, essaying at first the task of reformers within the Church,
soon after their arrival in Massachusetts, likewise flung off their yoke
of union with the Anglicans. In each town a separate congregation was
organized, the male members choosing the pastor, the teachers, and the
other officers. They also composed the voters in the town meeting, where
secular matters were determined. The union of church and government was
thus complete, and uniformity of faith and life prescribed by law and
enforced by civil authorities; but this worked for local autonomy
instead of imperial unity.

The clergy became a powerful class, dominant through their learning and
their fearful denunciations of the faithless. They wrote the books for
the people to read--the famous Cotton Mather having three hundred and
eighty-three books and pamphlets to his credit. In cooperation with the
civil officers they enforced a strict observance of the Puritan
Sabbath--a day of rest that began at six o'clock on Saturday evening and
lasted until sunset on Sunday. All work, all trading, all amusement, and
all worldly conversation were absolutely prohibited during those hours.
A thoughtless maid servant who for some earthly reason smiled in church
was in danger of being banished as a vagabond. Robert Pike, a devout
Puritan, thinking the sun had gone to rest, ventured forth on horseback
one Sunday evening and was luckless enough to have a ray of light strike
him through a rift in the clouds. The next day he was brought into court
and fined for "his ungodly conduct." With persons accused of witchcraft
the Puritans were still more ruthless. When a mania of persecution swept
over Massachusetts in 1692, eighteen people were hanged, one was pressed
to death, many suffered imprisonment, and two died in jail.

Just about this time, however, there came a break in the uniformity of
Puritan rule. The crown and church in England had long looked upon it
with disfavor, and in 1684 King Charles II annulled the old charter of
the Massachusetts Bay Company. A new document issued seven years later
wrested from the Puritans of the colony the right to elect their own
governor and reserved the power of appointment to the king. It also
abolished the rule limiting the suffrage to church members, substituting
for it a simple property qualification. Thus a royal governor and an
official family, certain to be Episcopalian in faith and monarchist in
sympathies, were forced upon Massachusetts; and members of all religious
denominations, if they had the required amount of property, were
permitted to take part in elections. By this act in the name of the
crown, the Puritan monopoly was broken down in Massachusetts, and that
province was brought into line with Connecticut, Rhode Island, and New
Hampshire, where property, not religious faith, was the test for the
suffrage.

=Growth of Religious Toleration.=--Though neither the Anglicans of
Virginia nor the Puritans of Massachusetts believed in toleration for
other denominations, that principle was strictly applied in Rhode
Island. There, under the leadership of Roger Williams, liberty in
matters of conscience was established in the beginning. Maryland, by
granting in 1649 freedom to those who professed to believe in Jesus
Christ, opened its gates to all Christians; and Pennsylvania, true to
the tenets of the Friends, gave freedom of conscience to those "who
confess and acknowledge the one Almighty and Eternal God to be the
creator, upholder, and ruler of the World." By one circumstance or
another, the Middle colonies were thus early characterized by diversity
rather than uniformity of opinion. Dutch Protestants, Huguenots,
Quakers, Baptists, Presbyterians, New, Moravians, Lutherans,
Catholics, and other denominations became too strongly intrenched and
too widely scattered to permit any one of them to rule, if it had
desired to do so. There were communities and indeed whole sections where
one or another church prevailed, but in no colony was a legislature
steadily controlled by a single group. Toleration encouraged diversity,
and diversity, in turn, worked for greater toleration.

The government and faith of the dissenting denominations conspired with
economic and political tendencies to draw America away from the English
state. Presbyterians, Quakers, Baptists, and Puritans had no hierarchy
of bishops and archbishops to bind them to the seat of power in London.
Neither did they look to that metropolis for guidance in interpreting
articles of faith. Local self-government in matters ecclesiastical
helped to train them for local self-government in matters political. The
spirit of independence which led Dissenters to revolt in the Old World,
nourished as it was amid favorable circumstances in the New World, made
them all the more zealous in the defense of every right against
authority imposed from without.


SCHOOLS AND COLLEGES

=Religion and Local Schools.=--One of the first cares of each Protestant
denomination was the education of the children in the faith. In this
work the Bible became the center of interest. The English version was
indeed the one book of the people. Farmers, shopkeepers, and artisans,
whose life had once been bounded by the daily routine of labor, found in
the Scriptures not only an inspiration to religious conduct, but also a
book of romance, travel, and history. "Legend and annal," says John
Richard Green, "war-song and psalm, state-roll and biography, the mighty
voices of prophets, the parables of Evangelists, stories of mission
journeys, of perils by sea and among the heathen, philosophic arguments,
apocalyptic visions, all were flung broadcast over minds unoccupied for
the most part by any rival learning.... As a mere literary monument, the
English version of the Bible remains the noblest example of the English
tongue." It was the King James version just from the press that the
Pilgrims brought across the sea with them.

For the authority of the Established Church was substituted the
authority of the Scriptures. The Puritans devised a catechism based upon
their interpretation of the Bible, and, very soon after their arrival in
America, they ordered all parents and masters of servants to be diligent
in seeing that their children and wards were taught to read religious
works and give answers to the religious questions. Massachusetts was
scarcely twenty years old before education of this character was
declared to be compulsory, and provision was made for public schools
where those not taught at home could receive instruction in reading and
writing.

[Illustration: A PAGE FROM A FAMOUS SCHOOLBOOK


     A In ADAM'S Fall
       We sinned all.

     B Heaven to find,
       The Bible Mind.

     C Christ crucify'd
       For sinners dy'd.

     D The Deluge drown'd
       The Earth around.

     E ELIJAH hid
       by Ravens fed.

     F The judgment made
       FELIX afraid.]



Outside of New England the idea of compulsory education was not regarded
with the same favor; but the whole land was nevertheless dotted with
little schools kept by "dames, itinerant teachers, or local parsons."
Whether we turn to the life of Franklin in the North or Washington in
the South, we read of tiny schoolhouses, where boys, and sometimes
girls, were taught to read and write. Where there were no schools,
fathers and mothers of the better kind gave their children the rudiments
of learning. Though illiteracy was widespread, there is evidence to show
that the diffusion of knowledge among the masses was making steady
progress all through the eighteenth century.

=Religion and Higher Learning.=--Religious motives entered into the
establishment of colleges as well as local schools. Harvard, founded in
1636, and Yale, opened in 1718, were intended primarily to train
"learned and godly ministers" for the Puritan churches of New England.
To the far North, Dartmouth, chartered in 1769, was designed first as a
mission to the Indians and then as a college for the sons of New England
farmers preparing to preach, teach, or practice law. The College of New
Jersey, organized in 1746 and removed to Princeton eleven years later,
was sustained by the Presbyterians. Two colleges looked to the
Established Church as their source of inspiration and support: William
and Mary, founded in Virginia in 1693, and King's College, now Columbia
University, chartered by King George II in 1754, on an appeal from the
New York Anglicans, alarmed at the growth of religious dissent and the
"republican tendencies" of the age. Two colleges revealed a drift away
from sectarianism. Brown, established in Rhode Island in 1764, and the
Philadelphia Academy, forerunner of the University of Pennsylvania,
organized by Benjamin Franklin, reflected the spirit of toleration by
giving representation on the board of trustees to several religious
sects. It was Franklin's idea that his college should prepare young men
to serve in public office as leaders of the people and ornaments to
their country.

=Self-education in America.=--Important as were these institutions of
learning, higher education was by no means confined within their walls.
Many well-to-do families sent their sons to Oxford or Cambridge in
England. Private tutoring in the home was common. In still more families
there were intelligent children who grew up in the great colonial school
of adversity and who trained themselves until, in every contest of mind
and wit, they could vie with the sons of Harvard or William and Mary or
any other college. Such, for example, was Benjamin Franklin, whose
charming autobiography, in addition to being an American classic, is a
fine record of self-education. His formal training in the classroom was
limited to a few years at a local school in Boston; but his
self-education continued throughout his life. He early manifested a zeal
for reading, and devoured, he tells us, his father's dry library on
theology, Bunyan's works, Defoe's writings, Plutarch's _Lives_, Locke's
_On the Human Understanding_, and innumerable volumes dealing with
secular subjects. His literary style, perhaps the best of his time,
Franklin acquired by the diligent and repeated analysis of the
_Spectator_. In a life crowded with labors, he found time to read widely
in natural science and to win single-handed recognition at the hands of
European savants for his discoveries in electricity. By his own efforts
he "attained an acquaintance" with Latin, Italian, French, and Spanish,
thus unconsciously preparing himself for the day when he was to speak
for all America at the court of the king of France.

Lesser  than Franklin, educated by the same process, were found
all over colonial America. From this fruitful source of native ability,
self-educated, the American cause drew great strength in the trials of
the Revolution.


THE COLONIAL PRESS

=The Rise of the Newspaper.=--The evolution of American democracy into a
government by public opinion, enlightened by the open discussion of
political questions, was in no small measure aided by a free press. That
too, like education, was a matter of slow growth. A printing press was
brought to Massachusetts in 1639, but it was put in charge of an
official censor and limited to the publication of religious works. Forty
years elapsed before the first newspaper appeared, bearing the curious
title, _Public Occurrences Both Foreign and Domestic_, and it had not
been running very long before the government of Massachusetts suppressed
it for discussing a political question.

Publishing, indeed, seemed to be a precarious business; but in 1704
there came a second venture in journalism, _The Boston News-Letter_,
which proved to be a more lasting enterprise because it refrained from
criticizing the authorities. Still the public interest languished. When
Franklin's brother, James, began to issue his _New England Courant_
about 1720, his friends sought to dissuade him, saying that one
newspaper was enough for America. Nevertheless he continued it; and his
confidence in the future was rewarded. In nearly every colony a gazette
or chronicle appeared within the next thirty years or more. Benjamin
Franklin was able to record in 1771 that America had twenty-five
newspapers. Boston led with five. Philadelphia had three: two in English
and one in German.

=Censorship and Restraints on the Press.=--The idea of printing,
unlicensed by the government and uncontrolled by the church, was,
however, slow in taking form. The founders of the American colonies had
never known what it was to have the free and open publication of books,
pamphlets, broadsides, and newspapers. When the art of printing was
first discovered, the control of publishing was vested in clerical
authorities. After the establishment of the State Church in England in
the reign of Elizabeth, censorship of the press became a part of royal
prerogative. Printing was restricted to Oxford, Cambridge, and London;
and no one could publish anything without previous approval of the
official censor. When the Puritans were in power, the popular party,
with a zeal which rivaled that of the crown, sought, in turn, to silence
royalist and clerical writers by a vigorous censorship. After the
restoration of the monarchy, control of the press was once more placed
in royal hands, where it remained until 1695, when Parliament, by
failing to renew the licensing act, did away entirely with the official

censorship. By that time political parties were so powerful and so
active and printing presses were so numerous that official review of all
published matter became a sheer impossibility.

In America, likewise, some troublesome questions arose in connection
with freedom of the press. The Puritans of Massachusetts were no less
anxious than King Charles or the Archbishop of London to shut out from
the prying eyes of the people all literature "not mete for them to
read"; and so they established a system of official licensing for
presses, which lasted until 1755. In the other colonies where there was
more diversity of opinion and publishers could set up in business with
impunity, they were nevertheless constantly liable to arrest for
printing anything displeasing to the colonial governments. In 1721 the
editor of the _Mercury_ in Philadelphia was called before the
proprietary council and ordered to apologize for a political article,
and for a later offense of a similar character he was thrown into jail.
A still more famous case was that of Peter Zenger, a New York publisher,
who was arrested in 1735 for criticising the administration. Lawyers who
ventured to defend the unlucky editor were deprived of their licenses to
practice, and it became necessary to bring an attorney all the way from
Philadelphia. By this time the tension of feeling was high, and the
approbation of the public was forthcoming when the lawyer for the
defense exclaimed to the jury that the very cause of liberty itself, not
that of the poor printer, was on trial! The verdict for Zenger, when it
finally came, was the signal for an outburst of popular rejoicing.
Already the people of King George's province knew how precious a thing
is the freedom of the press.

Thanks to the schools, few and scattered as they were, and to the
vigilance of parents, a very large portion, perhaps nearly one-half, of
the colonists could read. Through the newspapers, pamphlets, and
almanacs that streamed from the types, the people could follow the
course of public events and grasp the significance of political
arguments. An American opinion was in the process of making--an
independent opinion nourished by the press and enriched by discussions
around the fireside and at the taverns. When the day of resistance to
British rule came, government by opinion was at hand. For every person
who could hear the voice of Patrick Henry and Samuel Adams, there were a
thousand who could see their appeals on the printed page. Men who had
spelled out their letters while poring over Franklin's _Poor Richard's
Almanac_ lived to read Thomas Paine's thrilling call to arms.


THE EVOLUTION IN POLITICAL INSTITUTIONS

Two very distinct lines of development appeared in colonial politics.
The one, exalting royal rights and aristocratic privileges, was the
drift toward provincial government through royal officers appointed in
England. The other, leading toward democracy and self-government, was
the growth in the power of the popular legislative assembly. Each
movement gave impetus to the other, with increasing force during the
passing years, until at last the final collision between the two ideals
of government came in the war of independence.

=The Royal Provinces.=--Of the thirteen English colonies eight were
royal provinces in 1776, with governors appointed by the king. Virginia
passed under the direct rule of the crown in 1624, when the charter of
the London Company was annulled. The Massachusetts Bay corporation lost
its charter in 1684, and the new instrument granted seven years later
stripped the colonists of the right to choose their chief executive. In
the early decades of the eighteenth century both the Carolinas were
given the provincial instead of the proprietary form. New Hampshire,
severed from Massachusetts in 1679, and Georgia, surrendered by the
trustees in 1752, went into the hands of the crown. New York,
transferred to the Duke of York on its capture from the Dutch in 1664,
became a province when he took the title of James II in 1685. New
Jersey, after remaining for nearly forty years under proprietors, was
brought directly under the king in 1702. Maryland, Pennsylvania, and
Delaware, although they retained their proprietary character until the
Revolution, were in some respects like the royal colonies, for their
governors were as independent of popular choice as were the appointees
of King George. Only two colonies, Rhode Island and Connecticut,
retained full self-government on the eve of the Revolution. They alone
had governors and legislatures entirely of their own choosing.

The chief officer of the royal province was the governor, who enjoyed
high and important powers which he naturally sought to augment at every
turn. He enforced the laws and, usually with the consent of a council,
appointed the civil and military officers. He granted pardons and
reprieves; he was head of the highest court; he was commander-in-chief
of the militia; he levied troops for defense and enforced martial law in
time of invasion, war, and rebellion. In all the provinces, except
Massachusetts, he named the councilors who composed the upper house of
the legislature and was likely to choose those who favored his claims.
He summoned, adjourned, and dissolved the popular assembly, or the lower
house; he laid before it the projects of law desired by the crown; and
he vetoed measures which he thought objectionable. Here were in America
all the elements of royal prerogative against which Hampden had
protested and Cromwell had battled in England.

[Illustration: THE ROYAL GOVERNOR'S PALACE AT NEW BERNE]

The colonial governors were generally surrounded by a body of
office-seekers and hunters for land grants. Some of them were noblemen
of broken estates who had come to America to improve their fortunes. The
pretensions of this circle grated on colonial nerves, and privileges
granted to them, often at the expense of colonists, did much to deepen
popular antipathy to the British government. Favors extended to
adherents of the Established Church displeased Dissenters. The
reappearance of this formidable union of church and state, from which
they had fled, stirred anew the ancient wrath against that combination.

=The Colonial Assembly.=--Coincident with the drift toward
administration through royal governors was the second and opposite
tendency, namely, a steady growth in the practice of self-government.
The voters of England had long been accustomed to share in taxation and
law-making through representatives in Parliament, and the idea was early
introduced in America. Virginia was only twelve years old (1619) when
its first representative assembly appeared. As the towns of
Massachusetts multiplied and it became impossible for all the members of
the corporation to meet at one place, the representative idea was
adopted, in 1633. The river towns of Connecticut formed a representative
system under their "Fundamental Orders" of 1639, and the entire colony
was given a royal charter in 1662. Generosity, as well as practical
considerations, induced such proprietors as Lord Baltimore and William
Penn to invite their colonists to share in the government as soon as any
considerable settlements were made. Thus by one process or another every
one of the colonies secured a popular assembly.

It is true that in the provision for popular elections, the suffrage was
finally restricted to property owners or taxpayers, with a leaning
toward the freehold qualification. In Virginia, the rural voter had to
be a freeholder owning at least fifty acres of land, if there was no
house on it, or twenty-five acres with a house twenty-five feet square.
In Massachusetts, the voter for member of the assembly under the charter
of 1691 had to be a freeholder of an estate worth forty shillings a year
at least or of other property to the value of forty pounds sterling. In
Pennsylvania, the suffrage was granted to freeholders owning fifty acres
or more of land well seated, twelve acres cleared, and to other persons
worth at least fifty pounds in lawful money.

Restrictions like these undoubtedly excluded from the suffrage a very
considerable number of men, particularly the mechanics and artisans of
the towns, who were by no means content with their position.
Nevertheless, it was relatively easy for any man to acquire a small
freehold, so cheap and abundant was land; and in fact a large proportion
of the colonists were land owners. Thus the assemblies, in spite of the
limited suffrage, acquired a democratic tone.

The popular character of the assemblies increased as they became engaged
in battles with the royal and proprietary governors. When called upon by
the executive to make provision for the support of the administration,
the legislature took advantage of the opportunity to make terms in the
interest of the taxpayers. It made annual, not permanent, grants of
money to pay official salaries and then insisted upon electing a
treasurer to dole it out. Thus the colonists learned some of the
mysteries of public finance, as well as the management of rapacious
officials. The legislature also used its power over money grants to
force the governor to sign bills which he would otherwise have vetoed.

=Contests between Legislatures and Governors.=--As may be imagined, many
and bitter were the contests between the royal and proprietary governors
and the colonial assemblies. Franklin relates an amusing story of how
the Pennsylvania assembly held in one hand a bill for the executive to
sign and, in the other hand, the money to pay his salary. Then, with sly
humor, Franklin adds: "Do not, my courteous reader, take pet at our
proprietary constitution for these our bargain and sale proceedings in
legislation. It is a happy country where justice and what was your own
before can be had for ready money. It is another addition to the value
of money and of course another spur to industry. Every land is not so
blessed."

It must not be thought, however, that every governor got off as easily
as Franklin's tale implies. On the contrary, the legislatures, like
Caesar, fed upon meat that made them great and steadily encroached upon
executive prerogatives as they tried out and found their strength. If
we may believe contemporary laments, the power of the crown in America
was diminishing when it was struck down altogether. In New York, the
friends of the governor complained in 1747 that "the inhabitants of
plantations are generally educated in republican principles; upon
republican principles all is conducted. Little more than a shadow of
royal authority remains in the Northern colonies." "Here," echoed the
governor of South Carolina, the following year, "levelling principles
prevail; the frame of the civil government is unhinged; a governor, if
he would be idolized, must betray his trust; the people have got their
whole administration in their hands; the election of the members of the
assembly is by ballot; not civil posts only, but all ecclesiastical
preferments, are in the disposal or election of the people."

Though baffled by the "levelling principles" of the colonial assemblies,
the governors did not give up the case as hopeless. Instead they evolved
a system of policy and action which they thought could bring the
obstinate provincials to terms. That system, traceable in their letters
to the government in London, consisted of three parts: (1) the royal
officers in the colonies were to be made independent of the legislatures
by taxes imposed by acts of Parliament; (2) a British standing army was
to be maintained in America; (3) the remaining colonial charters were to
be revoked and government by direct royal authority was to be enlarged.

Such a system seemed plausible enough to King George III and to many
ministers of the crown in London. With governors, courts, and an army
independent of the colonists, they imagined it would be easy to carry
out both royal orders and acts of Parliament. This reasoning seemed both
practical and logical. Nor was it founded on theory, for it came fresh
from the governors themselves. It was wanting in one respect only. It
failed to take account of the fact that the American people were growing
strong in the practice of self-government and could dispense with the
tutelage of the British ministry, no matter how excellent it might be or
how benevolent its intentions.


=References=

A.M. Earle, _Home Life in Colonial Days_.

A.L. Cross, _The Anglican Episcopate and the American Colonies_ (Harvard
Studies).

E.G. Dexter, _History of Education in the United States_.

C.A. Duniway, _Freedom of the Press in Massachusetts_.

Benjamin Franklin, _Autobiography_.

E.B. Greene, _The Provincial Governor_ (Harvard Studies).

A.E. McKinley, _The Suffrage Franchise in the Thirteen English Colonies_
(Pennsylvania University Studies).

M.C. Tyler, _History of American Literature during the Colonial Times_
(2 vols.).


=Questions=

1. Why is leisure necessary for the production of art and literature?
How may leisure be secured?

2. Explain the position of the church in colonial life.

3. Contrast the political roles of Puritanism and the Established
Church.

4. How did diversity of opinion work for toleration?

5. Show the connection between religion and learning in colonial times.

6. Why is a "free press" such an important thing to American democracy?

7. Relate some of the troubles of early American publishers.

8. Give the undemocratic features of provincial government.

9. How did the colonial assemblies help to create an independent
American spirit, in spite of a restricted suffrage?

10. Explain the nature of the contests between the governors and the
legislatures.


=Research Topics=

=Religious and Intellectual Life.=--Lodge, _Short History of the English
Colonies_: (1) in New England, pp. 418-438, 465-475; (2) in Virginia,
pp. 54-61, 87-89; (3) in Pennsylvania, pp. 232-237, 253-257; (4) in New
York, pp. 316-321. Interesting source materials in Hart, _American
History Told by Contemporaries_, Vol. II, pp. 255-275, 276-290.

=The Government of a Royal Province, Virginia.=--Lodge, pp. 43-50.
Special Reference: E.B. Greene, _The Provincial Governor_ (Harvard
Studies).

=The Government of a Proprietary Colony, Pennsylvania.=--Lodge, pp.
230-232.

=Government in New England.=--Lodge, pp. 412-417.

=The Colonial Press.=--Special Reference: G.H. Payne, _History of
Journalism in the United States_ (1920).

=Colonial Life in General.=--John Fiske, _Old Virginia and Her
Neighbors_, Vol. II, pp. 174-269; Elson, _History of the United States_,
pp. 197-210.

=Colonial Government in General.=--Elson, pp. 210-216.




CHAPTER IV

THE DEVELOPMENT OF COLONIAL NATIONALISM


It is one of the well-known facts of history that a people loosely
united by domestic ties of a political and economic nature, even a
people torn by domestic strife, may be welded into a solid and compact
body by an attack from a foreign power. The imperative call to common
defense, the habit of sharing common burdens, the fusing force of common
service--these things, induced by the necessity of resisting outside
interference, act as an amalgam drawing together all elements, except,
perhaps, the most discordant. The presence of the enemy allays the most
virulent of quarrels, temporarily at least. "Politics," runs an old
saying, "stops at the water's edge."

This ancient political principle, so well understood in diplomatic
circles, applied nearly as well to the original thirteen American
colonies as to the countries of Europe. The necessity for common
defense, if not equally great, was certainly always pressing. Though it
has long been the practice to speak of the early settlements as founded
in "a wilderness," this was not actually the case. From the earliest
days of Jamestown on through the years, the American people were
confronted by dangers from without. All about their tiny settlements
were Indians, growing more and more hostile as the frontier advanced and
as sharp conflicts over land aroused angry passions. To the south and
west was the power of Spain, humiliated, it is true, by the disaster to
the Armada, but still presenting an imposing front to the British
empire. To the north and west were the French, ambitious, energetic,
imperial in temper, and prepared to contest on land and water the
advance of British dominion in America.


RELATIONS WITH THE INDIANS AND THE FRENCH

=Indian Affairs.=--It is difficult to make general statements about the
relations of the colonists to the Indians. The problem was presented in
different shape in different sections of America. It was not handled
according to any coherent or uniform plan by the British government,
which alone could speak for all the provinces at the same time. Neither
did the proprietors and the governors who succeeded one another, in an
irregular train, have the consistent policy or the matured experience
necessary for dealing wisely with Indian matters. As the difficulties
arose mainly on the frontiers, where the restless and pushing pioneers
were making their way with gun and ax, nearly everything that happened
was the result of chance rather than of calculation. A personal quarrel
between traders and an Indian, a jug of whisky, a keg of gunpowder, the
exchange of guns for furs, personal treachery, or a flash of bad temper
often set in motion destructive forces of the most terrible character.

On one side of the ledger may be set innumerable generous records--of
Squanto and Samoset teaching the Pilgrims the ways of the wilds; of
Roger Williams buying his lands from the friendly natives; or of William
Penn treating with them on his arrival in America. On the other side of
the ledger must be recorded many a cruel and bloody conflict as the
frontier rolled westward with deadly precision. The Pequots on the
Connecticut border, sensing their doom, fell upon the tiny settlements
with awful fury in 1637 only to meet with equally terrible punishment. A
generation later, King Philip, son of Massasoit, the friend of the
Pilgrims, called his tribesmen to a war of extermination which brought
the strength of all New England to the field and ended in his own
destruction. In New York, the relations with the Indians, especially
with the Algonquins and the Mohawks, were marked by periodic and
desperate wars. Virginia and her Southern neighbors suffered as did New
England. In 1622 Opecacano, a brother of Powhatan, the friend of the
Jamestown settlers, launched a general massacre; and in 1644 he
attempted a war of extermination. In 1675 the whole frontier was ablaze.
Nathaniel Bacon vainly attempted to stir the colonial governor to put up
an adequate defense and, failing in that plea, himself headed a revolt
and a successful expedition against the Indians. As the Virginia
outposts advanced into the Kentucky country, the strife with the natives
was transferred to that "dark and bloody ground"; while to the
southeast, a desperate struggle with the Tuscaroras called forth the
combined forces of the two Carolinas and Virginia.

[Illustration: _From an old print._

VIRGINIANS DEFENDING THEMSELVES AGAINST THE INDIANS]

From such horrors New Jersey and Delaware were saved on account of their
geographical location. Pennsylvania, consistently following a policy of
conciliation, was likewise spared until her western vanguard came into
full conflict with the allied French and Indians. Georgia, by clever
negotiations and treaties of alliance, managed to keep on fair terms
with her belligerent Cherokees and Creeks. But neither diplomacy nor
generosity could stay the inevitable conflict as the frontier advanced,
especially after the French soldiers enlisted the Indians in their
imperial enterprises. It was then that desultory fighting became general
warfare.

[Illustration: ENGLISH, FRENCH, AND SPANISH POSSESSIONS IN AMERICA,
1750]

=Early Relations with the French.=--During the first decades of French
exploration and settlement in the St. Lawrence country, the English
colonies, engrossed with their own problems, gave little or no thought
to their distant neighbors. Quebec, founded in 1608, and Montreal, in
1642, were too far away, too small in population, and too slight in
strength to be much of a menace to Boston, Hartford, or New York. It was
the statesmen in France and England, rather than the colonists in
America, who first grasped the significance of the slowly converging
empires in North America. It was the ambition of Louis XIV of France,
rather than the labors of Jesuit missionaries and French rangers, that
sounded the first note of colonial alarm.

Evidence of this lies in the fact that three conflicts between the
English and the French occurred before their advancing frontiers met on
the Pennsylvania border. King William's War (1689-1697), Queen Anne's
War (1701-1713), and King George's War (1744-1748) owed their origins
and their endings mainly to the intrigues and rivalries of European
powers, although they all involved the American colonies in struggles
with the French and their savage allies.

=The Clash in the Ohio Valley.=--The second of these wars had hardly
closed, however, before the English colonists themselves began to be
seriously alarmed about the rapidly expanding French dominion in the
West. Marquette and Joliet, who opened the Lake region, and La Salle,
who in 1682 had gone down the Mississippi to the Gulf, had been followed
by the builders of forts. In 1718, the French founded New Orleans, thus
taking possession of the gateway to the Mississippi as well as the St.
Lawrence. A few years later they built Fort Niagara; in 1731 they
occupied Crown Point; in 1749 they formally announced their dominion
over all the territory drained by the Ohio River. Having asserted this
lofty claim, they set out to make it good by constructing in the years
1752-1754 Fort Le Boeuf near Lake Erie, Fort Venango on the upper
waters of the Allegheny, and Fort Duquesne at the junction of the
streams forming the Ohio. Though they were warned by George Washington,
in the name of the governor of Virginia, to keep out of territory "so
notoriously known to be property of the crown of Great Britain," the
French showed no signs of relinquishing their pretensions.

[Illustration: _From an old print_

BRADDOCK'S RETREAT]

=The Final Phase--the French and Indian War.=--Thus it happened that the
shot which opened the Seven Years' War, known in America as the French
and Indian War, was fired in the wilds of Pennsylvania. There began the
conflict that spread to Europe and even Asia and finally involved
England and Prussia, on the one side, and France, Austria, Spain, and
minor powers on the other. On American soil, the defeat of Braddock in
1755 and Wolfe's exploit in capturing Quebec four years later were the
dramatic features. On the continent of Europe, England subsidized
Prussian arms to hold France at bay. In India, on the banks of the
Ganges, as on the banks of the St. Lawrence, British arms were
triumphant. Well could the historian write: "Conquests equaling in
rapidity and far surpassing in magnitude those of Cortes and Pizarro had
been achieved in the East." Well could the merchants of London declare
that under the administration of William Pitt, the imperial genius of
this world-wide conflict, commerce had been "united with and made to
flourish by war."

From the point of view of the British empire, the results of the war
were momentous. By the peace of 1763, Canada and the territory east of
the Mississippi, except New Orleans, passed under the British flag. The
remainder of the Louisiana territory was transferred to Spain and French
imperial ambitions on the American continent were laid to rest. In
exchange for Havana, which the British had seized during the war, Spain
ceded to King George the colony of Florida. Not without warrant did
Macaulay write in after years that Pitt "was the first Englishman of his
time; and he had made England the first country in the world."


THE EFFECTS OF WARFARE ON THE COLONIES

The various wars with the French and the Indians, trivial in detail as
they seem to-day, had a profound influence on colonial life and on the
destiny of America. Circumstances beyond the control of popular
assemblies, jealous of their individual powers, compelled cooperation
among them, grudging and stingy no doubt, but still cooperation. The
American people, more eager to be busy in their fields or at their
trades, were simply forced to raise and support armies, to learn the
arts of warfare, and to practice, if in a small theater, the science of
statecraft. These forces, all cumulative, drove the colonists, so
tenaciously provincial in their habits, in the direction of nationalism.

=The New England Confederation.=--It was in their efforts to deal with
the problems presented by the Indian and French menace that the
Americans took the first steps toward union. Though there were many
common ties among the settlers of New England, it required a deadly
fear of the Indians to produce in 1643 the New England Confederation,
composed of Massachusetts, Plymouth, Connecticut, and New Haven. The
colonies so united were bound together in "a firm and perpetual league
of friendship and amity for offense and defense, mutual service and
succor, upon all just occasions." They made provision for distributing
the burdens of wars among the members and provided for a congress of
commissioners from each colony to determine upon common policies. For
some twenty years the Confederation was active and it continued to hold
meetings until after the extinction of the Indian peril on the immediate
border.

Virginia, no less than Massachusetts, was aware of the importance of
intercolonial cooperation. In the middle of the seventeenth century, the
Old Dominion began treaties of commerce and amity with New York and the
colonies of New England. In 1684 delegates from Virginia met at Albany
with the agents of New York and Massachusetts to discuss problems of
mutual defense. A few years later the Old Dominion cooperated loyally
with the Carolinas in defending their borders against Indian forays.

=The Albany Plan of Union.=--An attempt at a general colonial union was
made in 1754. On the suggestion of the Lords of Trade in England, a
conference was held at Albany to consider Indian relations, to devise
measures of defense against the French, and to enter into "articles of
union and confederation for the general defense of his Majesty's
subjects and interests in North America as well in time of peace as of
war." New Hampshire, Massachusetts, Connecticut, Rhode Island, New York,
Pennsylvania, and Maryland were represented. After a long discussion, a
plan of union, drafted mainly, it seems, by Benjamin Franklin, was
adopted and sent to the colonies and the crown for approval. The
colonies, jealous of their individual rights, refused to accept the
scheme and the king disapproved it for the reason, Franklin said, that
it had "too much weight in the democratic part of the constitution."
Though the Albany union failed, the document is still worthy of study
because it forecast many of the perplexing problems that were not solved
until thirty-three years afterward, when another convention of which
also Franklin was a member drafted the Constitution of the United
States.

[Illustration: BENJAMIN FRANKLIN]

=The Military Education of the Colonists.=--The same wars that showed
the provincials the meaning of union likewise instructed them in the art
of defending their institutions. Particularly was this true of the last
French and Indian conflict, which stretched all the way from Maine to
the Carolinas and made heavy calls upon them all for troops. The answer,
it is admitted, was far from satisfactory to the British government and
the conduct of the militiamen was far from professional; but thousands
of Americans got a taste, a strong taste, of actual fighting in the
field. Men like George Washington and Daniel Morgan learned lessons that
were not forgotten in after years. They saw what American militiamen
could do under favorable circumstances and they watched British regulars
operating on American soil. "This whole transaction," shrewdly remarked
Franklin of Braddock's campaign, "gave us Americans the first suspicion
that our exalted ideas of the prowess of British regular troops had not
been well founded." It was no mere accident that the Virginia colonel
who drew his sword under the elm at Cambridge and took command of the
army of the Revolution was the brave officer who had "spurned the
whistle of bullets" at the memorable battle in western Pennsylvania.

=Financial Burdens and Commercial Disorder.=--While the provincials were
learning lessons in warfare they were also paying the bills. All the
conflicts were costly in treasure as in blood. King Philip's war left
New England weak and almost bankrupt. The French and Indian struggle was
especially expensive. The twenty-five thousand men put in the field by
the colonies were sustained only by huge outlays of money. Paper
currency streamed from the press and debts were accumulated. Commerce
was driven from its usual channels and prices were enhanced. When the
end came, both England and America were staggering under heavy
liabilities, and to make matters worse there was a fall of prices
accompanied by a commercial depression which extended over a period of
ten years. It was in the midst of this crisis that measures of taxation
had to be devised to pay the cost of the war, precipitating the quarrel
which led to American independence.

=The Expulsion of French Power from North America.=--The effects of the
defeat administered to France, as time proved, were difficult to
estimate. Some British statesmen regarded it as a happy circumstance
that the colonists, already restive under their administration, had no
foreign power at hand to aid them in case they struck for independence.
American leaders, on the other hand, now that the soldiers of King Louis
were driven from the continent, thought that they had no other country
to fear if they cast off British sovereignty. At all events, France,
though defeated, was not out of the sphere of American influence; for,
as events proved, it was the fortunate French alliance negotiated by
Franklin that assured the triumph of American arms in the War of the
Revolution.


COLONIAL RELATIONS WITH THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT

It was neither the Indian wars nor the French wars that finally brought
forth American nationality. That was the product of the long strife
with the mother country which culminated in union for the war of
independence. The forces that created this nation did not operate in the
colonies alone. The character of the English sovereigns, the course of
events in English domestic politics, and English measures of control
over the colonies--executive, legislative, and judicial--must all be
taken into account.

=The Last of the Stuarts.=--The struggles between Charles I (1625-49)
and the parliamentary party and the turmoil of the Puritan regime
(1649-60) so engrossed the attention of Englishmen at home that they had
little time to think of colonial policies or to interfere with colonial
affairs. The restoration of the monarchy in 1660, accompanied by
internal peace and the increasing power of the mercantile classes in the
House of Commons, changed all that. In the reign of Charles II
(1660-85), himself an easy-going person, the policy of regulating trade
by act of Parliament was developed into a closely knit system and
powerful agencies to supervise the colonies were created. At the same
time a system of stricter control over the dominions was ushered in by
the annulment of the old charter of Massachusetts which conferred so
much self-government on the Puritans.

Charles' successor, James II, a man of sterner stuff and jealous of his
authority in the colonies as well as at home, continued the policy thus
inaugurated and enlarged upon it. If he could have kept his throne, he
would have bent the Americans under a harsh rule or brought on in his
dominions a revolution like that which he precipitated at home in 1688.
He determined to unite the Northern colonies and introduce a more
efficient administration based on the pattern of the royal provinces. He
made a martinet, Sir Edmund Andros, governor of all New England, New
York, and New Jersey. The charter of Massachusetts, annulled in the last
days of his brother's reign, he continued to ignore, and that of
Connecticut would have been seized if it had not been spirited away and
hidden, according to tradition, in a hollow oak.

For several months, Andros gave the Northern colonies a taste of
ill-tempered despotism. He wrung quit rents from land owners not
accustomed to feudal dues; he abrogated titles to land where, in his
opinion, they were unlawful; he forced the Episcopal service upon the
Old South Church in Boston; and he denied the writ of _habeas corpus_ to
a preacher who denounced taxation without representation. In the middle
of his arbitrary course, however, his hand was stayed. The news came
that King James had been dethroned by his angry subjects, and the people
of Boston, kindling a fire on Beacon Hill, summoned the countryside to
dispose of Andros. The response was prompt and hearty. The hated
governor was arrested, imprisoned, and sent back across the sea under
guard.

The overthrow of James, followed by the accession of William and Mary
and by assured parliamentary supremacy, had an immediate effect in the
colonies. The new order was greeted with thanksgiving. Massachusetts was
given another charter which, though not so liberal as the first,
restored the spirit if not the entire letter of self-government. In the
other colonies where Andros had been operating, the old course of
affairs was resumed.

=The Indifference of the First Two Georges.=--On the death in 1714 of
Queen Anne, the successor of King William, the throne passed to a
Hanoverian prince who, though grateful for English honors and revenues,
was more interested in Hanover than in England. George I and George II,
whose combined reigns extended from 1714 to 1760, never even learned to
speak the English language, at least without an accent. The necessity of
taking thought about colonial affairs bored both of them so that the
stoutest defender of popular privileges in Boston or Charleston had no
ground to complain of the exercise of personal prerogatives by the king.
Moreover, during a large part of this period, the direction of affairs
was in the hands of an astute leader, Sir Robert Walpole, who betrayed
his somewhat cynical view of politics by adopting as his motto: "Let
sleeping dogs lie." He revealed his appreciation of popular sentiment
by exclaiming: "I will not be the minister to enforce taxes at the
expense of blood." Such kings and such ministers were not likely to
arouse the slumbering resistance of the thirteen colonies across the
sea.

=Control of the Crown over the Colonies.=--While no English ruler from
James II to George III ventured to interfere with colonial matters
personally, constant control over the colonies was exercised by royal
officers acting under the authority of the crown. Systematic supervision
began in 1660, when there was created by royal order a committee of the
king's council to meet on Mondays and Thursdays of each week to consider
petitions, memorials, and addresses respecting the plantations. In 1696
a regular board was established, known as the "Lords of Trade and
Plantations," which continued, until the American Revolution, to
scrutinize closely colonial business. The chief duties of the board were
to examine acts of colonial legislatures, to recommend measures to those
assemblies for adoption, and to hear memorials and petitions from the
colonies relative to their affairs.

The methods employed by this board were varied. All laws passed by
American legislatures came before it for review as a matter of routine.
If it found an act unsatisfactory, it recommended to the king the
exercise of his veto power, known as the royal disallowance. Any person
who believed his personal or property rights injured by a colonial law
could be heard by the board in person or by attorney; in such cases it
was the practice to hear at the same time the agent of the colony so
involved. The royal veto power over colonial legislation was not,
therefore, a formal affair, but was constantly employed on the
suggestion of a highly efficient agency of the crown. All this was in
addition to the powers exercised by the governors in the royal
provinces.

=Judicial Control.=--Supplementing this administrative control over the
colonies was a constant supervision by the English courts of law. The
king, by virtue of his inherent authority, claimed and exercised high
appellate powers over all judicial tribunals in the empire. The right
of appeal from local courts, expressly set forth in some charters, was,
on the eve of the Revolution, maintained in every colony. Any subject in
England or America, who, in the regular legal course, was aggrieved by
any act of a colonial legislature or any decision of a colonial court,
had the right, subject to certain regulations, to carry his case to the
king in council, forcing his opponent to follow him across the sea. In
the exercise of appellate power, the king in council acting as a court
could, and frequently did, declare acts of colonial legislatures duly
enacted and approved, null and void, on the ground that they were
contrary to English law.

=Imperial Control in Operation.=--Day after day, week after week, year
after year, the machinery for political and judicial control over
colonial affairs was in operation. At one time the British governors in
the colonies were ordered not to approve any colonial law imposing a
duty on European goods imported in English vessels. Again, when North
Carolina laid a tax on peddlers, the council objected to it as
"restrictive upon the trade and dispersion of English manufactures
throughout the continent." At other times, Indian trade was regulated in
the interests of the whole empire or grants of lands by a colonial
legislature were set aside. Virginia was forbidden to close her ports to
North Carolina lest there should be retaliation.

In short, foreign and intercolonial trade were subjected to a control
higher than that of the colony, foreshadowing a day when the
Constitution of the United States was to commit to Congress the power to
regulate interstate and foreign commerce and commerce with the Indians.
A superior judicial power, towering above that of the colonies, as the
Supreme Court at Washington now towers above the states, kept the
colonial legislatures within the metes and bounds of established law. In
the thousands of appeals, memorials, petitions, and complaints, and the
rulings and decisions upon them, were written the real history of
British imperial control over the American colonies.

So great was the business before the Lords of Trade that the colonies
had to keep skilled agents in London to protect their interests. As
common grievances against the operation of this machinery of control
arose, there appeared in each colony a considerable body of men, with
the merchants in the lead, who chafed at the restraints imposed on their
enterprise. Only a powerful blow was needed to weld these bodies into a
common mass nourishing the spirit of colonial nationalism. When to the
repeated minor irritations were added general and sweeping measures of
Parliament applying to every colony, the rebound came in the Revolution.

=Parliamentary Control over Colonial Affairs.=--As soon as Parliament
gained in power at the expense of the king, it reached out to bring the
American colonies under its sway as well. Between the execution of
Charles I and the accession of George III, there was enacted an immense
body of legislation regulating the shipping, trade, and manufactures of
America. All of it, based on the "mercantile" theory then prevalent in
all countries of Europe, was designed to control the overseas
plantations in such a way as to foster the commercial and business
interests of the mother country, where merchants and men of finance had
got the upper hand. According to this theory, the colonies of the
British empire should be confined to agriculture and the production of
raw materials, and forced to buy their manufactured goods of England.

_The Navigation Acts._--In the first rank among these measures of
British colonial policy must be placed the navigation laws framed for
the purpose of building up the British merchant marine and navy--arms so
essential in defending the colonies against the Spanish, Dutch, and
French. The beginning of this type of legislation was made in 1651 and
it was worked out into a system early in the reign of Charles II
(1660-85).

The Navigation Acts, in effect, gave a monopoly of colonial commerce to
British ships. No trade could be carried on between Great Britain and
her dominions save in vessels built and manned by British subjects. No
European goods could be brought to America save in the ships of the
country that produced them or in English ships. These laws, which were
almost fatal to Dutch shipping in America, fell with severity upon the
colonists, compelling them to pay higher freight rates. The adverse
effect, however, was short-lived, for the measures stimulated
shipbuilding in the colonies, where the abundance of raw materials gave
the master builders of America an advantage over those of the mother
country. Thus the colonists in the end profited from the restrictive
policy written into the Navigation Acts.

_The Acts against Manufactures._--The second group of laws was
deliberately aimed to prevent colonial industries from competing too
sharply with those of England. Among the earliest of these measures may
be counted the Woolen Act of 1699, forbidding the exportation of woolen
goods from the colonies and even the woolen trade between towns and
colonies. When Parliament learned, as the result of an inquiry, that New
England and New York were making thousands of hats a year and sending
large numbers annually to the Southern colonies and to Ireland, Spain,
and Portugal, it enacted in 1732 a law declaring that "no hats or felts,
dyed or undyed, finished or unfinished" should be "put upon any vessel
or laden upon any horse or cart with intent to export to any place
whatever." The effect of this measure upon the hat industry was almost
ruinous. A few years later a similar blow was given to the iron
industry. By an act of 1750, pig and bar iron from the colonies were
given free entry to England to encourage the production of the raw
material; but at the same time the law provided that "no mill or other
engine for slitting or rolling of iron, no plating forge to work with a
tilt hammer, and no furnace for making steel" should be built in the
colonies. As for those already built, they were declared public
nuisances and ordered closed. Thus three important economic interests of
the colonists, the woolen, hat, and iron industries, were laid under the
ban.

_The Trade Laws._--The third group of restrictive measures passed by the
British Parliament related to the sale of colonial produce. An act of
1663 required the colonies to export certain articles to Great Britain
or to her dominions alone; while sugar, tobacco, and ginger consigned to
the continent of Europe had to pass through a British port paying custom
duties and through a British merchant's hands paying the usual
commission. At first tobacco was the only one of the "enumerated
articles" which seriously concerned the American colonies, the rest
coming mainly from the British West Indies. In the course of time,
however, other commodities were added to the list of enumerated
articles, until by 1764 it embraced rice, naval stores, copper, furs,
hides, iron, lumber, and pearl ashes. This was not all. The colonies
were compelled to bring their European purchases back through English
ports, paying duties to the government and commissions to merchants
again.

_The Molasses Act._--Not content with laws enacted in the interest of
English merchants and manufacturers, Parliament sought to protect the
British West Indies against competition from their French and Dutch
neighbors. New England merchants had long carried on a lucrative trade
with the French islands in the West Indies and Dutch Guiana, where sugar
and molasses could be obtained in large quantities at low prices. Acting
on the protests of English planters in the Barbadoes and Jamaica,
Parliament, in 1733, passed the famous Molasses Act imposing duties on
sugar and molasses imported into the colonies from foreign
countries--rates which would have destroyed the American trade with the
French and Dutch if the law had been enforced. The duties, however, were
not collected. The molasses and sugar trade with the foreigners went on
merrily, smuggling taking the place of lawful traffic.

=Effect of the Laws in America.=--As compared with the strict monopoly
of her colonial trade which Spain consistently sought to maintain, the
policy of England was both moderate and liberal. Furthermore, the
restrictive laws were supplemented by many measures intended to be
favorable to colonial prosperity. The Navigation Acts, for example,
redounded to the advantage of American shipbuilders and the producers
of hemp, tar, lumber, and ship stores in general. Favors in British
ports were granted to colonial producers as against foreign competitors
and in some instances bounties were paid by England to encourage
colonial enterprise. Taken all in all, there is much justification in
the argument advanced by some modern scholars to the effect that the
colonists gained more than they lost by British trade and industrial
legislation. Certainly after the establishment of independence, when
free from these old restrictions, the Americans found themselves
handicapped by being treated as foreigners rather than favored traders
and the recipients of bounties in English markets.

Be that as it may, it appears that the colonists felt little irritation
against the mother country on account of the trade and navigation laws
enacted previous to the close of the French and Indian war. Relatively
few were engaged in the hat and iron industries as compared with those
in farming and planting, so that England's policy of restricting America
to agriculture did not conflict with the interests of the majority of
the inhabitants. The woolen industry was largely in the hands of women
and carried on in connection with their domestic duties, so that it was
not the sole support of any considerable number of people.

As a matter of fact, moreover, the restrictive laws, especially those
relating to trade, were not rigidly enforced. Cargoes of tobacco were
boldly sent to continental ports without even so much as a bow to the
English government, to which duties should have been paid. Sugar and
molasses from the French and Dutch colonies were shipped into New
England in spite of the law. Royal officers sometimes protested against
smuggling and sometimes connived at it; but at no time did they succeed
in stopping it. Taken all in all, very little was heard of "the galling
restraints of trade" until after the French war, when the British
government suddenly entered upon a new course.


SUMMARY OF THE COLONIAL PERIOD

In the period between the landing of the English at Jamestown, Virginia,
in 1607, and the close of the French and Indian war in 1763--a period of
a century and a half--a new nation was being prepared on this continent
to take its place among the powers of the earth. It was an epoch of
migration. Western Europe contributed emigrants of many races and
nationalities. The English led the way. Next to them in numerical
importance were the Scotch-Irish and the Germans. Into the melting pot
were also cast Dutch, Swedes, French, Jews, Welsh, and Irish. Thousands
of negroes were brought from Africa to till Southern fields or labor as
domestic servants in the North.

Why did they come? The reasons are various. Some of them, the Pilgrims
and Puritans of New England, the French Huguenots, Scotch-Irish and
Irish, and the Catholics of Maryland, fled from intolerant governments
that denied them the right to worship God according to the dictates of
their consciences. Thousands came to escape the bondage of poverty in
the Old World and to find free homes in America. Thousands, like the
negroes from Africa, were dragged here against their will. The lure of
adventure appealed to the restless and the lure of profits to the
enterprising merchants.

How did they come? In some cases religious brotherhoods banded together
and borrowed or furnished the funds necessary to pay the way. In other
cases great trading companies were organized to found colonies. Again it
was the wealthy proprietor, like Lord Baltimore or William Penn, who
undertook to plant settlements. Many immigrants were able to pay their
own way across the sea. Others bound themselves out for a term of years
in exchange for the cost of the passage. Negroes were brought on account
of the profits derived from their sale as slaves.

Whatever the motive for their coming, however, they managed to get
across the sea. The immigrants set to work with a will. They cut down
forests, built houses, and laid out fields. They founded churches,
schools, and colleges. They set up forges and workshops. They spun and
wove. They fashioned ships and sailed the seas. They bartered and
traded. Here and there on favorable harbors they established centers of
commerce--Boston, Providence, New York, Philadelphia, Baltimore, and
Charleston. As soon as a firm foothold was secured on the shore line
they pressed westward until, by the close of the colonial period, they
were already on the crest of the Alleghanies.

Though they were widely scattered along a thousand miles of seacoast,
the colonists were united in spirit by many common ties. The major
portion of them were Protestants. The language, the law, and the
literature of England furnished the basis of national unity. Most of the
colonists were engaged in the same hard task; that of conquering a
wilderness. To ties of kinship and language were added ties created by
necessity. They had to unite in defense; first, against the Indians and
later against the French. They were all subjects of the same
sovereign--the king of England. The English Parliament made laws for
them and the English government supervised their local affairs, their
trade, and their manufactures. Common forces assailed them. Common
grievances vexed them. Common hopes inspired them.

Many of the things which tended to unite them likewise tended to throw
them into opposition to the British Crown and Parliament. Most of them
were freeholders; that is, farmers who owned their own land and tilled
it with their own hands. A free soil nourished the spirit of freedom.
The majority of them were Dissenters, critics, not friends, of the
Church of England, that stanch defender of the British monarchy. Each
colony in time developed its own legislature elected by the voters; it
grew accustomed to making laws and laying taxes for itself. Here was a
people learning self-reliance and self-government. The attempts to
strengthen the Church of England in America and the transformation of
colonies into royal provinces only fanned the spirit of independence
which they were designed to quench.

Nevertheless, the Americans owed much of their prosperity to the
assistance of the government that irritated them. It was the protection
of the British navy that prevented Holland, Spain, and France from
wiping out their settlements. Though their manufacture and trade were
controlled in the interests of the mother country, they also enjoyed
great advantages in her markets. Free trade existed nowhere upon the
earth; but the broad empire of Britain was open to American ships and
merchandise. It could be said, with good reason, that the disadvantages
which the colonists suffered through British regulation of their
industry and trade were more than offset by the privileges they enjoyed.
Still that is somewhat beside the point, for mere economic advantage is
not necessarily the determining factor in the fate of peoples. A
thousand circumstances had helped to develop on this continent a nation,
to inspire it with a passion for independence, and to prepare it for a
destiny greater than that of a prosperous dominion of the British
empire. The economists, who tried to prove by logic unassailable that
America would be richer under the British flag, could not change the
spirit of Patrick Henry, Samuel Adams, Benjamin Franklin, or George
Washington.


=References=

G.L. Beer, _Origin of the British Colonial System_ and _The Old Colonial
System_.

A. Bradley, _The Fight for Canada in North America_.

C.M. Andrews, _Colonial Self-Government_ (American Nation Series).

H. Egerton, _Short History of British Colonial Policy_.

F. Parkman, _France and England in North America_ (12 vols.).

R. Thwaites, _France in America_ (American Nation Series).

J. Winsor, _The Mississippi Valley_ and _Cartier to Frontenac_.


=Questions=

1. How would you define "nationalism"?

2. Can you give any illustrations of the way that war promotes
nationalism?

3. Why was it impossible to establish and maintain a uniform policy in
dealing with the Indians?

4. What was the outcome of the final clash with the French?

5. Enumerate the five chief results of the wars with the French and the
Indians. Discuss each in detail.

6. Explain why it was that the character of the English king mattered to
the colonists.

7. Contrast England under the Stuarts with England under the
Hanoverians.

8. Explain how the English Crown, Courts, and Parliament controlled the
colonies.

9. Name the three important classes of English legislation affecting the
colonies. Explain each.

10. Do you think the English legislation was beneficial or injurious to
the colonies? Why?


=Research Topics=

=Rise of French Power in North America.=--Special reference: Francis
Parkman, _Struggle for a Continent_.

=The French and Indian Wars.=--Special reference: W.M. Sloane, _French
War and the Revolution_, Chaps. VI-IX. Parkman, _Montcalm and Wolfe_,
Vol. II, pp. 195-299. Elson, _History of the United States_, pp.
171-196.

=English Navigation Acts.=--Macdonald, _Documentary Source Book_, pp.
55, 72, 78, 90, 103. Coman, _Industrial History_, pp. 79-85.

=British Colonial Policy.=--Callender, _Economic History of the United
States_, pp. 102-108.

=The New England Confederation.=--Analyze the document in Macdonald,
_Source Book_, p. 45. Special reference: Fiske, _Beginnings of New
England_, pp. 140-198.

=The Administration of Andros.=--Fiske, _Beginnings_, pp. 242-278.

=Biographical Studies.=--William Pitt and Sir Robert Walpole. Consult
Green, _Short History of England_, on their policies, using the index.




PART II. CONFLICT AND INDEPENDENCE




CHAPTER V

THE NEW COURSE IN BRITISH IMPERIAL POLICY


On October 25, 1760, King George II died and the British crown passed to
his young grandson. The first George, the son of the Elector of Hanover
and Sophia the granddaughter of James I, was a thorough German who never
even learned to speak the language of the land over which he reigned.
The second George never saw England until he was a man. He spoke English
with an accent and until his death preferred his German home. During
their reign, the principle had become well established that the king did
not govern but acted only through ministers representing the majority in
Parliament.


GEORGE III AND HIS SYSTEM

=The Character of the New King.=--The third George rudely broke the
German tradition of his family. He resented the imputation that he was a
foreigner and on all occasions made a display of his British sympathies.
To the draft of his first speech to Parliament, he added the popular
phrase: "Born and educated in this country, I glory in the name of
Briton." Macaulay, the English historian, certainly of no liking for
high royal prerogative, said of George: "The young king was a born
Englishman. All his tastes and habits, good and bad, were English. No
portion of his subjects had anything to reproach him with.... His age,
his appearance, and all that was known of his character conciliated
public favor. He was in the bloom of youth; his person and address were
pleasing; scandal imputed to him no vice; and flattery might without
glaring absurdity ascribe to him many princely virtues."

Nevertheless George III had been spoiled by his mother, his tutors, and
his courtiers. Under their influence he developed high and mighty
notions about the sacredness of royal authority and his duty to check
the pretensions of Parliament and the ministers dependent upon it. His
mother had dinned into his ears the slogan: "George, be king!" Lord
Bute, his teacher and adviser, had told him that his honor required him
to take an active part in the shaping of public policy and the making of
laws. Thus educated, he surrounded himself with courtiers who encouraged
him in the determination to rule as well as reign, to subdue all
parties, and to place himself at the head of the nation and empire.

[Illustration: _From an old print._

GEORGE III]

=Political Parties and George III.=--The state of the political parties
favored the plans of the king to restore some of the ancient luster of
the crown. The Whigs, who were composed mainly of the smaller
freeholders, merchants, inhabitants of towns, and Protestant
non-conformists, had grown haughty and overbearing through long
continuance in power and had as a consequence raised up many enemies in
their own ranks. Their opponents, the Tories, had by this time given up
all hope of restoring to the throne the direct Stuart line; but they
still cherished their old notions about divine right. With the
accession of George III the coveted opportunity came to them to rally
around the throne again. George received his Tory friends with open
arms, gave them offices, and bought them seats in the House of Commons.

=The British Parliamentary System.=--The peculiarities of the British
Parliament at the time made smooth the way for the king and his allies
with their designs for controlling the entire government. In the first
place, the House of Lords was composed mainly of hereditary nobles whose
number the king could increase by the appointment of his favorites, as
of old. Though the members of the House of Commons were elected by
popular vote, they did not speak for the mass of English people. Great
towns like Leeds, Manchester, and Birmingham, for example, had no
representatives at all. While there were about eight million inhabitants
in Great Britain, there were in 1768 only about 160,000 voters; that is
to say, only about one in every ten adult males had a voice in the
government. Many boroughs returned one or more members to the Commons
although they had merely a handful of voters or in some instances no
voters at all. Furthermore, these tiny boroughs were often controlled by
lords who openly sold the right of representation to the highest bidder.
The "rotten-boroughs," as they were called by reformers, were a public
scandal, but George III readily made use of them to get his friends into
the House of Commons.


GEORGE III'S MINISTERS AND THEIR COLONIAL POLICIES

=Grenville and the War Debt.=--Within a year after the accession of
George III, William Pitt was turned out of office, the king treating him
with "gross incivility" and the crowds shouting "Pitt forever!" The
direction of affairs was entrusted to men enjoying the king's
confidence. Leadership in the House of Commons fell to George Grenville,
a grave and laborious man who for years had groaned over the increasing
cost of government.

The first task after the conclusion of peace in 1763 was the adjustment
of the disordered finances of the kingdom. The debt stood at the highest
point in the history of the country. More revenue was absolutely
necessary and Grenville began to search for it, turning his attention
finally to the American colonies. In this quest he had the aid of a
zealous colleague, Charles Townshend, who had long been in public
service and was familiar with the difficulties encountered by royal
governors in America. These two men, with the support of the entire
ministry, inaugurated in February, 1763, "a new system of colonial
government. It was announced by authority that there were to be no more
requisitions from the king to the colonial assemblies for supplies, but
that the colonies were to be taxed instead by act of Parliament.
Colonial governors and judges were to be paid by the Crown; they were to
be supported by a standing army of twenty regiments; and all the
expenses of this force were to be met by parliamentary taxation."

=Restriction of Paper Money (1763).=--Among the many complaints filed
before the board of trade were vigorous protests against the issuance of
paper money by the colonial legislatures. The new ministry provided a
remedy in the act of 1763, which declared void all colonial laws
authorizing paper money or extending the life of outstanding bills. This
law was aimed at the "cheap money" which the Americans were fond of
making when specie was scarce--money which they tried to force on their
English creditors in return for goods and in payment of the interest and
principal of debts. Thus the first chapter was written in the long
battle over sound money on this continent.

=Limitation on Western Land Sales.=--Later in the same year (1763)
George III issued a royal proclamation providing, among other things,
for the government of the territory recently acquired by the treaty of
Paris from the French. One of the provisions in this royal decree
touched frontiersmen to the quick. The contests between the king's
officers and the colonists over the disposition of western lands had
been long and sharp. The Americans chafed at restrictions on
settlement. The more adventurous were continually moving west and
"squatting" on land purchased from the Indians or simply seized without
authority. To put an end to this, the king forbade all further purchases
from the Indians, reserving to the crown the right to acquire such lands
and dispose of them for settlement. A second provision in the same
proclamation vested the power of licensing trade with the Indians,
including the lucrative fur business, in the hands of royal officers in
the colonies. These two limitations on American freedom and enterprise
were declared to be in the interest of the crown and for the
preservation of the rights of the Indians against fraud and abuses.

=The Sugar Act of 1764.=--King George's ministers next turned their
attention to measures of taxation and trade. Since the heavy debt under
which England was laboring had been largely incurred in the defense of
America, nothing seemed more reasonable to them than the proposition
that the colonies should help to bear the burden which fell so heavily
upon the English taxpayer. The Sugar Act of 1764 was the result of this
reasoning. There was no doubt about the purpose of this law, for it was
set forth clearly in the title: "An act for granting certain duties in
the British colonies and plantations in America ... for applying the
produce of such duties ... towards defraying the expenses of defending,
protecting and securing the said colonies and plantations ... and for
more effectually preventing the clandestine conveyance of goods to and
from the said colonies and plantations and improving and securing the
trade between the same and Great Britain." The old Molasses Act had been
prohibitive; the Sugar Act of 1764 was clearly intended as a revenue
measure. Specified duties were laid upon sugar, indigo, calico, silks,
and many other commodities imported into the colonies. The enforcement
of the Molasses Act had been utterly neglected; but this Sugar Act had
"teeth in it." Special precautions as to bonds, security, and
registration of ship masters, accompanied by heavy penalties, promised
a vigorous execution of the new revenue law.

The strict terms of the Sugar Act were strengthened by administrative
measures. Under a law of the previous year the commanders of armed
vessels stationed along the American coast were authorized to stop,
search, and, on suspicion, seize merchant ships approaching colonial
ports. By supplementary orders, the entire British official force in
America was instructed to be diligent in the execution of all trade and
navigation laws. Revenue collectors, officers of the army and navy, and
royal governors were curtly ordered to the front to do their full duty
in the matter of law enforcement. The ordinary motives for the discharge
of official obligations were sharpened by an appeal to avarice, for
naval officers who seized offenders against the law were rewarded by
large prizes out of the forfeitures and penalties.

=The Stamp Act (1765).=--The Grenville-Townshend combination moved
steadily towards its goal. While the Sugar Act was under consideration
in Parliament, Grenville announced a plan for a stamp bill. The next
year it went through both Houses with a speed that must have astounded
its authors. The vote in the Commons stood 205 in favor to 49 against;
while in the Lords it was not even necessary to go through the formality
of a count. As George III was temporarily insane, the measure received
royal assent by a commission acting as a board of regency. Protests of
colonial agents in London were futile. "We might as well have hindered
the sun's progress!" exclaimed Franklin. Protests of a few opponents in
the Commons were equally vain. The ministry was firm in its course and
from all appearances the Stamp Act hardly roused as much as a languid
interest in the city of London. In fact, it is recorded that the fateful
measure attracted less notice than a bill providing for a commission to
act for the king when he was incapacitated.

The Stamp Act, like the Sugar Act, declared the purpose of the British
government to raise revenue in America "towards defraying the expenses
of defending, protecting, and securing the British colonies and
plantations in America." It was a long measure of more than fifty
sections, carefully planned and skillfully drawn. By its provisions
duties were imposed on practically all papers used in legal
transactions,--deeds, mortgages, inventories, writs, bail bonds,--on
licenses to practice law and sell liquor, on college diplomas, playing
cards, dice, pamphlets, newspapers, almanacs, calendars, and
advertisements. The drag net was closely knit, for scarcely anything
escaped.

=The Quartering Act (1765).=--The ministers were aware that the Stamp
Act would rouse opposition in America--how great they could not
conjecture. While the measure was being debated, a friend of General
Wolfe, Colonel Barre, who knew America well, gave them an ominous
warning in the Commons. "Believe me--remember I this day told you so--"
he exclaimed, "the same spirit of freedom which actuated that people at
first will accompany them still ... a people jealous of their liberties
and who will vindicate them, if ever they should be violated." The
answer of the ministry to a prophecy of force was a threat of force.
Preparations were accordingly made to dispatch a larger number of
soldiers than usual to the colonies, and the ink was hardly dry on the
Stamp Act when Parliament passed the Quartering Act ordering the
colonists to provide accommodations for the soldiers who were to enforce
the new laws. "We have the power to tax them," said one of the ministry,
"and we will tax them."


COLONIAL RESISTANCE FORCES REPEAL

=Popular Opposition.=--The Stamp Act was greeted in America by an
outburst of denunciation. The merchants of the seaboard cities took the
lead in making a dignified but unmistakable protest, agreeing not to
import British goods while the hated law stood upon the books. Lawyers,
some of them incensed at the heavy taxes on their operations and others
intimidated by patriots who refused to permit them to use stamped
papers, joined with the merchants. Aristocratic colonial Whigs, who had
long grumbled at the administration of royal governors, protested
against taxation without their consent, as the Whigs had done in old
England. There were Tories, however, in the colonies as in England--many
of them of the official class--who denounced the merchants, lawyers, and
Whig aristocrats as "seditious, factious and republican." Yet the
opposition to the Stamp Act and its accompanying measure, the Quartering
Act, grew steadily all through the summer of 1765.

In a little while it was taken up in the streets and along the
countryside. All through the North and in some of the Southern colonies,
there sprang up, as if by magic, committees and societies pledged to
resist the Stamp Act to the bitter end. These popular societies were
known as Sons of Liberty and Daughters of Liberty: the former including
artisans, mechanics, and laborers; and the latter, patriotic women. Both
groups were alike in that they had as yet taken little part in public
affairs. Many artisans, as well as all the women, were excluded from the
right to vote for colonial assemblymen.

While the merchants and Whig gentlemen confined their efforts chiefly to
drafting well-phrased protests against British measures, the Sons of
Liberty operated in the streets and chose rougher measures. They stirred
up riots in Boston, New York, Philadelphia, and Charleston when attempts
were made to sell the stamps. They sacked and burned the residences of
high royal officers. They organized committees of inquisition who by
threats and intimidation curtailed the sale of British goods and the use
of stamped papers. In fact, the Sons of Liberty carried their operations
to such excesses that many mild opponents of the stamp tax were
frightened and drew back in astonishment at the forces they had
unloosed. The Daughters of Liberty in a quieter way were making a very
effective resistance to the sale of the hated goods by spurring on
domestic industries, their own particular province being the manufacture
of clothing, and devising substitutes for taxed foods. They helped to
feed and clothe their families without buying British goods.

=Legislative Action against the Stamp Act.=--Leaders in the colonial
assemblies, accustomed to battle against British policies, supported the
popular protest. The Stamp Act was signed on March 22, 1765. On May 30,
the Virginia House of Burgesses passed a set of resolutions declaring
that the General Assembly of the colony alone had the right to lay taxes
upon the inhabitants and that attempts to impose them otherwise were
"illegal, unconstitutional, and unjust." It was in support of these
resolutions that Patrick Henry uttered the immortal challenge: "Caesar
had his Brutus, Charles I his Cromwell, and George III...." Cries of
"Treason" were calmly met by the orator who finished: "George III may
profit by their example. If that be treason, make the most of it."

[Illustration: PATRICK HENRY]

=The Stamp Act Congress.=--The Massachusetts Assembly answered the call
of Virginia by inviting the colonies to elect delegates to a Congress to
be held in New York to discuss the situation. Nine colonies responded
and sent representatives. The delegates, while professing the warmest
affection for the king's person and government, firmly spread on record
a series of resolutions that admitted of no double meaning. They
declared that taxes could not be imposed without their consent, given
through their respective colonial assemblies; that the Stamp Act showed
a tendency to subvert their rights and liberties; that the recent trade
acts were burdensome and grievous; and that the right to petition the
king and Parliament was their heritage. They thereupon made "humble
supplication" for the repeal of the Stamp Act.

The Stamp Act Congress was more than an assembly of protest. It marked
the rise of a new agency of government to express the will of America.
It was the germ of a government which in time was to supersede the
government of George III in the colonies. It foreshadowed the Congress
of the United States under the Constitution. It was a successful attempt
at union. "There ought to be no New England men," declared Christopher
Gadsden, in the Stamp Act Congress, "no New Yorkers known on the
Continent, but all of us Americans."

=The Repeal of the Stamp Act and the Sugar Act.=--The effect of American
resistance on opinion in England was telling. Commerce with the colonies
had been effectively boycotted by the Americans; ships lay idly swinging
at the wharves; bankruptcy threatened hundreds of merchants in London,
Bristol, and Liverpool. Workingmen in the manufacturing towns of England
were thrown out of employment. The government had sown folly and was
reaping, in place of the coveted revenue, rebellion.

Perplexed by the storm they had raised, the ministers summoned to the
bar of the House of Commons, Benjamin Franklin, the agent for
Pennsylvania, who was in London. "Do you think it right," asked
Grenville, "that America should be protected by this country and pay no
part of the expenses?" The answer was brief: "That is not the case; the
colonies raised, clothed, and paid during the last war twenty-five
thousand men and spent many millions." Then came an inquiry whether the
colonists would accept a modified stamp act. "No, never," replied
Franklin, "never! They will never submit to it!" It was next suggested
that military force might compel obedience to law. Franklin had a ready
answer. "They cannot force a man to take stamps.... They may not find a
rebellion; they may, indeed, make one."

The repeal of the Stamp Act was moved in the House of Commons a few days
later. The sponsor for the repeal spoke of commerce interrupted, debts
due British merchants placed in jeopardy, Manchester industries closed,
workingmen unemployed, oppression instituted, and the loss of the
colonies threatened. Pitt and Edmund Burke, the former near the close
of his career, the latter just beginning his, argued cogently in favor
of retracing the steps taken the year before. Grenville refused.
"America must learn," he wailed, "that prayers are not to be brought to
Caesar through riot and sedition." His protests were idle. The Commons
agreed to the repeal on February 22, 1766, amid the cheers of the
victorious majority. It was carried through the Lords in the face of
strong opposition and, on March 18, reluctantly signed by the king, now
restored to his right mind.

In rescinding the Stamp Act, Parliament did not admit the contention of
the Americans that it was without power to tax them. On the contrary, it
accompanied the repeal with a Declaratory Act. It announced that the
colonies were subordinate to the crown and Parliament of Great Britain;
that the king and Parliament therefore had undoubted authority to make
laws binding the colonies in all cases whatsoever; and that the
resolutions and proceedings of the colonists denying such authority were
null and void.

The repeal was greeted by the colonists with great popular
demonstrations. Bells were rung; toasts to the king were drunk; and
trade resumed its normal course. The Declaratory Act, as a mere paper
resolution, did not disturb the good humor of those who again cheered
the name of King George. Their confidence was soon strengthened by the
news that even the Sugar Act had been repealed, thus practically
restoring the condition of affairs before Grenville and Townshend
inaugurated their policy of "thoroughness."


RESUMPTION OF BRITISH REVENUE AND COMMERCIAL POLICIES

=The Townshend Acts (1767).=--The triumph of the colonists was brief.
Though Pitt, the friend of America, was once more prime minister, and
seated in the House of Lords as the Earl of Chatham, his severe illness
gave to Townshend and the Tory party practical control over Parliament.
Unconvinced by the experience with the Stamp Act, Townshend brought
forward and pushed through both Houses of Parliament three measures,
which to this day are associated with his name. First among his
restrictive laws was that of June 29, 1767, which placed the enforcement
of the collection of duties and customs on colonial imports and exports
in the hands of British commissioners appointed by the king, resident in
the colonies, paid from the British treasury, and independent of all
control by the colonists. The second measure of the same date imposed a
tax on lead, glass, paint, tea, and a few other articles imported into
the colonies, the revenue derived from the duties to be applied toward
the payment of the salaries and other expenses of royal colonial
officials. A third measure was the Tea Act of July 2, 1767, aimed at the
tea trade which the Americans carried on illegally with foreigners. This
law abolished the duty which the East India Company had to pay in
England on tea exported to America, for it was thought that English tea
merchants might thus find it possible to undersell American tea
smugglers.

=Writs of Assistance Legalized by Parliament.=--Had Parliament been
content with laying duties, just as a manifestation of power and right,
and neglected their collection, perhaps little would have been heard of
the Townshend Acts. It provided, however, for the strict, even the
harsh, enforcement of the law. It ordered customs officers to remain at
their posts and put an end to smuggling. In the revenue act of June 29,
1767, it expressly authorized the superior courts of the colonies to
issue "writs of assistance," empowering customs officers to enter "any
house, warehouse, shop, cellar, or other place in the British colonies
or plantations in America to search for and seize" prohibited or
smuggled goods.

The writ of assistance, which was a general search warrant issued to
revenue officers, was an ancient device hateful to a people who
cherished the spirit of personal independence and who had made actual
gains in the practice of civil liberty. To allow a "minion of the law"
to enter a man's house and search his papers and premises, was too much
for the emotions of people who had fled to America in a quest for
self-government and free homes, who had braved such hardships to
establish them, and who wanted to trade without official interference.

The writ of assistance had been used in Massachusetts in 1755 to prevent
illicit trade with Canada and had aroused a violent hostility at that
time. In 1761 it was again the subject of a bitter controversy which
arose in connection with the application of a customs officer to a
Massachusetts court for writs of assistance "as usual." This application
was vainly opposed by James Otis in a speech of five hours' duration--a
speech of such fire and eloquence that it sent every man who heard it
away "ready to take up arms against writs of assistance." Otis denounced
the practice as an exercise of arbitrary power which had cost one king
his head and another his throne, a tyrant's device which placed the
liberty of every man in jeopardy, enabling any petty officer to work
possible malice on any innocent citizen on the merest suspicion, and to
spread terror and desolation through the land. "What a scene," he
exclaimed, "does this open! Every man, prompted by revenge, ill-humor,
or wantonness to inspect the inside of his neighbor's house, may get a
writ of assistance. Others will ask it from self-defense; one arbitrary
exertion will provoke another until society is involved in tumult and
blood." He did more than attack the writ itself. He said that Parliament
could not establish it because it was against the British constitution.
This was an assertion resting on slender foundation, but it was quickly
echoed by the people. Then and there James Otis sounded the call to
America to resist the exercise of arbitrary power by royal officers.
"Then and there," wrote John Adams, "the child Independence was born."
Such was the hated writ that Townshend proposed to put into the hands of
customs officers in his grim determination to enforce the law.

=The New York Assembly Suspended.=--In the very month that Townshend's
Acts were signed by the king, Parliament took a still more drastic step.
The assembly of New York, protesting against the "ruinous and
insupportable" expense involved, had failed to make provision for the
care of British troops in accordance with the terms of the Quartering
Act. Parliament therefore suspended the assembly until it promised to
obey the law. It was not until a third election was held that compliance
with the Quartering Act was wrung from the reluctant province. In the
meantime, all the colonies had learned on how frail a foundation their
representative bodies rested.


RENEWED RESISTANCE IN AMERICA

=The Massachusetts Circular (1768).=--Massachusetts, under the
leadership of Samuel Adams, resolved to resist the policy of renewed
intervention in America. At his suggestion the assembly adopted a
Circular Letter addressed to the assemblies of the other colonies
informing them of the state of affairs in Massachusetts and roundly
condemning the whole British program. The Circular Letter declared that
Parliament had no right to lay taxes on Americans without their consent
and that the colonists could not, from the nature of the case, be
represented in Parliament. It went on shrewdly to submit to
consideration the question as to whether any people could be called free
who were subjected to governors and judges appointed by the crown and
paid out of funds raised independently. It invited the other colonies,
in the most temperate tones, to take thought about the common
predicament in which they were all placed.

[Illustration: _From an old print._

SAMUEL ADAMS]

=The Dissolution of Assemblies.=--The governor of Massachusetts, hearing
of the Circular Letter, ordered the assembly to rescind its appeal. On
meeting refusal, he promptly dissolved it. The Maryland, Georgia, and
South Carolina assemblies indorsed the Circular Letter and were also
dissolved at once. The Virginia House of Burgesses, thoroughly aroused,
passed resolutions on May 16, 1769, declaring that the sole right of
imposing taxes in Virginia was vested in its legislature, asserting anew
the right of petition to the crown, condemning the transportation of
persons accused of crimes or trial beyond the seas, and beseeching the
king for a redress of the general grievances. The immediate dissolution
of the Virginia assembly, in its turn, was the answer of the royal
governor.

=The Boston Massacre.=--American opposition to the British authorities
kept steadily rising as assemblies were dissolved, the houses of
citizens searched, and troops distributed in increasing numbers among
the centers of discontent. Merchants again agreed not to import British
goods, the Sons of Liberty renewed their agitation, and women set about
the patronage of home products still more loyally.

On the night of March 5, 1770, a crowd on the streets of Boston began to
jostle and tease some British regulars stationed in the town. Things
went from bad to worse until some "boys and young fellows" began to
throw snowballs and stones. Then the exasperated soldiers fired into the
crowd, killing five and wounding half a dozen more. The day after the
"massacre," a mass meeting was held in the town and Samuel Adams was
sent to demand the withdrawal of the soldiers. The governor hesitated
and tried to compromise. Finding Adams relentless, the governor yielded
and ordered the regulars away.

The Boston Massacre stirred the country from New Hampshire to Georgia.
Popular passions ran high. The guilty soldiers were charged with murder.
Their defense was undertaken, in spite of the wrath of the populace, by
John Adams and Josiah Quincy, who as lawyers thought even the worst

offenders entitled to their full rights in law. In his speech to the
jury, however, Adams warned the British government against its course,
saying, that "from the nature of things soldiers quartered in a populous
town will always occasion two mobs where they will prevent one." Two of
the soldiers were convicted and lightly punished.

=Resistance in the South.=--The year following the Boston Massacre some
citizens of North Carolina, goaded by the conduct of the royal governor,
openly resisted his authority. Many were killed as a result and seven
who were taken prisoners were hanged as traitors. A little later royal
troops and local militia met in a pitched battle near Alamance River,
called the "Lexington of the South."

=The _Gaspee_ Affair and the Virginia Resolutions of 1773.=--On sea as
well as on land, friction between the royal officers and the colonists
broke out into overt acts. While patrolling Narragansett Bay looking for
smugglers one day in 1772, the armed ship, _Gaspee_, ran ashore and was
caught fast. During the night several men from Providence boarded the
vessel and, after seizing the crew, set it on fire. A royal commission,
sent to Rhode Island to discover the offenders and bring them to
account, failed because it could not find a single informer. The very
appointment of such a commission aroused the patriots of Virginia to
action; and in March, 1773, the House of Burgesses passed a resolution
creating a standing committee of correspondence to develop cooperation
among the colonies in resistance to British measures.

=The Boston Tea Party.=--Although the British government, finding the
Townshend revenue act a failure, repealed in 1770 all the duties except
that on tea, it in no way relaxed its resolve to enforce the other
commercial regulations it had imposed on the colonies. Moreover,
Parliament decided to relieve the British East India Company of the
financial difficulties into which it had fallen partly by reason of the
Tea Act and the colonial boycott that followed. In 1773 it agreed to
return to the Company the regular import duties, levied in England, on
all tea transshipped to America. A small impost of three pence, to be
collected in America, was left as a reminder of the principle laid down
in the Declaratory Act that Parliament had the right to tax the
colonists.

This arrangement with the East India Company was obnoxious to the
colonists for several reasons. It was an act of favoritism for one
thing, in the interest of a great monopoly. For another thing, it
promised to dump on the American market, suddenly, an immense amount of
cheap tea and so cause heavy losses to American merchants who had large
stocks on hand. It threatened with ruin the business of all those who
were engaged in clandestine trade with the Dutch. It carried with it an
irritating tax of three pence on imports. In Charleston, Annapolis, New
York, and Boston, captains of ships who brought tea under this act were
roughly handled. One night in December, 1773, a band of Boston citizens,
disguised as Indians, boarded the hated tea ships and dumped the cargo
into the harbor. This was serious business, for it was open, flagrant,
determined violation of the law. As such the British government viewed
it.


RETALIATION BY THE BRITISH GOVERNMENT

=Reception of the News of the Tea Riot.=--The news of the tea riot in
Boston confirmed King George in his conviction that there should be no
soft policy in dealing with his American subjects. "The die is cast," he
stated with evident satisfaction. "The colonies must either triumph or
submit.... If we take the resolute part, they will undoubtedly be very
meek." Lord George Germain characterized the tea party as "the
proceedings of a tumultuous and riotous rabble who ought, if they had
the least prudence, to follow their mercantile employments and not
trouble themselves with politics and government, which they do not
understand." This expressed, in concise form, exactly the sentiments of
Lord North, who had then for three years been the king's chief minister.
Even Pitt, Lord Chatham, was prepared to support the government in
upholding its authority.

=The Five Intolerable Acts.=--Parliament, beginning on March 31, 1774,
passed five stringent measures, known in American history as the five
"intolerable acts." They were aimed at curing the unrest in America. The
_first_ of them was a bill absolutely shutting the port of Boston to
commerce with the outside world. The _second_, following closely,
revoked the Massachusetts charter of 1691 and provided furthermore that
the councilors should be appointed by the king, that all judges should
be named by the royal governor, and that town meetings (except to elect
certain officers) could not be held without the governor's consent. A
_third_ measure, after denouncing the "utter subversion of all lawful
government" in the provinces, authorized royal agents to transfer to
Great Britain or to other colonies the trials of officers or other
persons accused of murder in connection with the enforcement of the law.
The _fourth_ act legalized the quartering of troops in Massachusetts
towns. The _fifth_ of the measures was the Quebec Act, which granted
religious toleration to the Catholics in Canada, extended the boundaries
of Quebec southward to the Ohio River, and established, in this western
region, government by a viceroy.

The intolerable acts went through Parliament with extraordinary
celerity. There was an opposition, alert and informed; but it was
ineffective. Burke spoke eloquently against the Boston port bill,
condemning it roundly for punishing the innocent with the guilty, and
showing how likely it was to bring grave consequences in its train. He
was heard with respect and his pleas were rejected. The bill passed both
houses without a division, the entry "unanimous" being made upon their
journals although it did not accurately represent the state of opinion.
The law destroying the charter of Massachusetts passed the Commons by a
vote of three to one; and the third intolerable act by a vote of four to
one. The triumph of the ministry was complete. "What passed in Boston,"
exclaimed the great jurist, Lord Mansfield, "is the overt act of High
Treason proceeding from our over lenity and want of foresight." The
crown and Parliament were united in resorting to punitive measures.

In the colonies the laws were received with consternation. To the
American Protestants, the Quebec Act was the most offensive. That
project they viewed not as an act of grace or of mercy but as a direct
attempt to enlist French Canadians on the side of Great Britain. The
British government did not grant religious toleration to Catholics
either at home or in Ireland and the Americans could see no good motive
in granting it in North America. The act was also offensive because
Massachusetts, Connecticut, and Virginia had, under their charters,
large claims in the territory thus annexed to Quebec.

To enforce these intolerable acts the military arm of the British
government was brought into play. The commander-in-chief of the armed
forces in America, General Gage, was appointed governor of
Massachusetts. Reinforcements were brought to the colonies, for now King
George was to give "the rebels," as he called them, a taste of strong
medicine. The majesty of his law was to be vindicated by force.


FROM REFORM TO REVOLUTION IN AMERICA

=The Doctrine of Natural Rights.=--The dissolution of assemblies, the
destruction of charters, and the use of troops produced in the colonies
a new phase in the struggle. In the early days of the contest with the
British ministry, the Americans spoke of their "rights as Englishmen"
and condemned the acts of Parliament as unlawful, as violating the
principles of the English constitution under which they all lived. When
they saw that such arguments had no effect on Parliament, they turned
for support to their "natural rights." The latter doctrine, in the form
in which it was employed by the colonists, was as English as the
constitutional argument. John Locke had used it with good effect in
defense of the English revolution in the seventeenth century. American
leaders, familiar with the writings of Locke, also took up his thesis in
the hour of their distress. They openly declared that their rights did
not rest after all upon the English constitution or a charter from the
crown. "Old Magna Carta was not the beginning of all things," retorted
Otis when the constitutional argument failed. "A time may come when
Parliament shall declare every American charter void, but the natural,
inherent, and inseparable rights of the colonists as men and as citizens
would remain and whatever became of charters can never be abolished
until the general conflagration." Of the same opinion was the young and
impetuous Alexander Hamilton. "The sacred rights of mankind," he
exclaimed, "are not to be rummaged for among old parchments or musty
records. They are written as with a sunbeam in the whole volume of human
destiny by the hand of divinity itself, and can never be erased or
obscured by mortal power."

Firm as the American leaders were in the statement and defense of their
rights, there is every reason for believing that in the beginning they
hoped to confine the conflict to the realm of opinion. They constantly
avowed that they were loyal to the king when protesting in the strongest
language against his policies. Even Otis, regarded by the loyalists as a
firebrand, was in fact attempting to avert revolution by winning
concessions from England. "I argue this cause with the greater
pleasure," he solemnly urged in his speech against the writs of
assistance, "as it is in favor of British liberty ... and as it is in
opposition to a kind of power, the exercise of which in former periods
cost one king of England his head and another his throne."

=Burke Offers the Doctrine of Conciliation.=--The flooding tide of
American sentiment was correctly measured by one Englishman at least,
Edmund Burke, who quickly saw that attempts to restrain the rise of
American democracy were efforts to reverse the processes of nature. He
saw how fixed and rooted in the nature of things was the American
spirit--how inevitable, how irresistible. He warned his countrymen that
there were three ways of handling the delicate situation--and only
three. One was to remove the cause of friction by changing the spirit of
the colonists--an utter impossibility because that spirit was grounded
in the essential circumstances of American life. The second was to
prosecute American leaders as criminals; of this he begged his
countrymen to beware lest the colonists declare that "a government
against which a claim of liberty is tantamount to high treason is a
government to which submission is equivalent to slavery." The third and
right way to meet the problem, Burke concluded, was to accept the
American spirit, repeal the obnoxious measures, and receive the colonies
into equal partnership.

=Events Produce the Great Decision.=--The right way, indicated by Burke,
was equally impossible to George III and the majority in Parliament. To
their narrow minds, American opinion was contemptible and American
resistance unlawful, riotous, and treasonable. The correct way, in their
view, was to dispatch more troops to crush the "rebels"; and that very
act took the contest from the realm of opinion. As John Adams said:
"Facts are stubborn things." Opinions were unseen, but marching soldiers
were visible to the veriest street urchin. "Now," said Gouverneur
Morris, "the sheep, simple as they are, cannot be gulled as heretofore."
It was too late to talk about the excellence of the British
constitution. If any one is bewildered by the controversies of modern
historians as to why the crisis came at last, he can clarify his
understanding by reading again Edmund Burke's stately oration, _On
Conciliation with America_.


=References=

G.L. Beer, _British Colonial Policy_ (1754-63).

E. Channing, _History of the United States_, Vol. III.

R. Frothingham, _Rise of the Republic_.

G.E. Howard, _Preliminaries of the Revolution_ (American Nation Series).

J.K. Hosmer, _Samuel Adams_.

J.T. Morse, _Benjamin Franklin_.

M.C. Tyler, _Patrick Henry_.

J.A. Woodburn (editor), _The American Revolution_ (Selections from the
English work by Lecky).


=Questions=

1. Show how the character of George III made for trouble with the
colonies.

2. Explain why the party and parliamentary systems of England favored
the plans of George III.

3. How did the state of English finances affect English policy?

4. Enumerate five important measures of the English government affecting
the colonies between 1763 and 1765. Explain each in detail.

5. Describe American resistance to the Stamp Act. What was the outcome?

6. Show how England renewed her policy of regulation in 1767.

7. Summarize the events connected with American resistance.

8. With what measures did Great Britain retaliate?

9. Contrast "constitutional" with "natural" rights.

10. What solution did Burke offer? Why was it rejected?


=Research Topics=

=Powers Conferred on Revenue Officers by Writs of Assistance.=--See a
writ in Macdonald, _Source Book_, p. 109.

=The Acts of Parliament Respecting America.=--Macdonald, pp. 117-146.
Assign one to each student for report and comment.

=Source Studies on the Stamp Act.=--Hart, _American History Told by
Contemporaries_, Vol. II, pp. 394-412.

=Source Studies of the Townshend Acts.=--Hart, Vol. II, pp. 413-433.

=American Principles.=--Prepare a table of them from the Resolutions of
the Stamp Act Congress and the Massachusetts Circular. Macdonald, pp.
136-146.

=An English Historian's View of the Period.=--Green, _Short History of
England_, Chap. X.

=English Policy Not Injurious to America.=--Callender, _Economic
History_, pp. 85-121.

=A Review of English Policy.=--Woodrow Wilson, _History of the American
People_, Vol. II, pp. 129-170.

=The Opening of the Revolution.=--Elson, _History of the United States_,
pp. 220-235.




CHAPTER VI

THE AMERICAN REVOLUTION


RESISTANCE AND RETALIATION

=The Continental Congress.=--When the news of the "intolerable acts"
reached America, every one knew what strong medicine Parliament was
prepared to administer to all those who resisted its authority. The
cause of Massachusetts became the cause of all the colonies. Opposition
to British policy, hitherto local and spasmodic, now took on a national
character. To local committees and provincial conventions was added a
Continental Congress, appropriately called by Massachusetts on June 17,
1774, at the instigation of Samuel Adams. The response to the summons
was electric. By hurried and irregular methods delegates were elected
during the summer, and on September 5 the Congress duly assembled in
Carpenter's Hall in Philadelphia. Many of the greatest men in America
were there--George Washington and Patrick Henry from Virginia and John
and Samuel Adams from Massachusetts. Every shade of opinion was
represented. Some were impatient with mild devices; the majority favored
moderation.

The Congress drew up a declaration of American rights and stated in
clear and dignified language the grievances of the colonists. It
approved the resistance to British measures offered by Massachusetts and
promised the united support of all sections. It prepared an address to
King George and another to the people of England, disavowing the idea of
independence but firmly attacking the policies pursued by the British
government.

=The Non-Importation Agreement.=--The Congress was not content, however,
with professions of faith and with petitions. It took one revolutionary
step. It agreed to stop the importation of British goods into America,
and the enforcement of this agreement it placed in the hands of local
"committees of safety and inspection," to be elected by the qualified
voters. The significance of this action is obvious. Congress threw
itself athwart British law. It made a rule to bind American citizens and
to be carried into effect by American officers. It set up a state within
the British state and laid down a test of allegiance to the new order.
The colonists, who up to this moment had been wavering, had to choose
one authority or the other. They were for the enforcement of the
non-importation agreement or they were against it. They either bought
English goods or they did not. In the spirit of the toast--"May Britain
be wise and America be free"--the first Continental Congress adjourned
in October, having appointed the tenth of May following for the meeting
of a second Congress, should necessity require.

=Lord North's "Olive Branch."=--When the news of the action of the
American Congress reached England, Pitt and Burke warmly urged a repeal
of the obnoxious laws, but in vain. All they could wring from the prime
minister, Lord North, was a set of "conciliatory resolutions" proposing
to relieve from taxation any colony that would assume its share of
imperial defense and make provision for supporting the local officers of
the crown. This "olive branch" was accompanied by a resolution assuring
the king of support at all hazards in suppressing the rebellion and by
the restraining act of March 30, 1775, which in effect destroyed the
commerce of New England.

=Bloodshed at Lexington and Concord (April 19, 1775).=--Meanwhile the
British authorities in Massachusetts relaxed none of their efforts in
upholding British sovereignty. General Gage, hearing that military
stores had been collected at Concord, dispatched a small force to seize
them. By this act he precipitated the conflict he had sought to avoid.
At Lexington, on the road to Concord, occurred "the little thing" that
produced "the great event." An unexpected collision beyond the thought
or purpose of any man had transferred the contest from the forum to the
battle field.

=The Second Continental Congress.=--Though blood had been shed and war
was actually at hand, the second Continental Congress, which met at
Philadelphia in May, 1775, was not yet convinced that conciliation was
beyond human power. It petitioned the king to interpose on behalf of the
colonists in order that the empire might avoid the calamities of civil
war. On the last day of July, it made a temperate but firm answer to
Lord North's offer of conciliation, stating that the proposal was
unsatisfactory because it did not renounce the right to tax or repeal
the offensive acts of Parliament.

=Force, the British Answer.=--Just as the representatives of America
were about to present the last petition of Congress to the king on
August 23, 1775, George III issued a proclamation of rebellion. This
announcement declared that the colonists, "misled by dangerous and
ill-designing men," were in a state of insurrection; it called on the
civil and military powers to bring "the traitors to justice"; and it
threatened with "condign punishment the authors, perpetrators, and
abettors of such traitorous designs." It closed with the usual prayer:
"God, save the king." Later in the year, Parliament passed a sweeping
act destroying all trade and intercourse with America. Congress was
silent at last. Force was also America's answer.


AMERICAN INDEPENDENCE

=Drifting into War.=--Although the Congress had not given up all hope of
reconciliation in the spring and summer of 1775, it had firmly resolved
to defend American rights by arms if necessary. It transformed the
militiamen who had assembled near Boston, after the battle of Lexington,
into a Continental army and selected Washington as commander-in-chief.
It assumed the powers of a government and prepared to raise money, wage
war, and carry on diplomatic relations with foreign countries.

[Illustration: _From an old print_

SPIRIT OF 1776]

Events followed thick and fast. On June 17, the American militia, by
the stubborn defense of Bunker Hill, showed that it could make British
regulars pay dearly for all they got. On July 3, Washington took command
of the army at Cambridge. In January, 1776, after bitter disappointments
in drumming up recruits for its army in England, Scotland, and Ireland,
the British government concluded a treaty with the Landgrave of
Hesse-Cassel in Germany contracting, at a handsome figure, for thousands
of soldiers and many pieces of cannon. This was the crowning insult to
America. Such was the view of all friends of the colonies on both sides
of the water. Such was, long afterward, the judgment of the conservative
historian Lecky: "The conduct of England in hiring German mercenaries to
subdue the essentially English population beyond the Atlantic made
reconciliation hopeless and independence inevitable." The news of this
wretched transaction in German soldiers had hardly reached America
before there ran all down the coast the thrilling story that Washington
had taken Boston, on March 17, 1776, compelling Lord Howe to sail with
his entire army for Halifax.

=The Growth of Public Sentiment in Favor of Independence.=--Events were
bearing the Americans away from their old position under the British
constitution toward a final separation. Slowly and against their
desires, prudent and honorable men, who cherished the ties that united
them to the old order and dreaded with genuine horror all thought of
revolution, were drawn into the path that led to the great decision. In
all parts of the country and among all classes, the question of the hour
was being debated. "American independence," as the historian Bancroft
says, "was not an act of sudden passion nor the work of one man or one
assembly. It had been discussed in every part of the country by farmers
and merchants, by mechanics and planters, by the fishermen along the
coast and the backwoodsmen of the West; in town meetings and from the
pulpit; at social gatherings and around the camp fires; in county
conventions and conferences or committees; in colonial congresses and
assemblies."

[Illustration: _From an old print_

THOMAS PAINE]

=Paine's "Commonsense."=--In the midst of this ferment of American
opinion, a bold and eloquent pamphleteer broke in upon the hesitating
public with a program for absolute independence, without fears and
without apologies. In the early days of 1776, Thomas Paine issued the
first of his famous tracts, "Commonsense," a passionate attack upon the
British monarchy and an equally passionate plea for American liberty.
Casting aside the language of petition with which Americans had hitherto
addressed George III, Paine went to the other extreme and assailed him
with many a violent epithet. He condemned monarchy itself as a system
which had laid the world "in blood and ashes." Instead of praising the
British constitution under which colonists had been claiming their
rights, he brushed it aside as ridiculous, protesting that it was "owing
to the constitution of the people, not to the constitution of the
government, that the Crown is not as oppressive in England as in
Turkey."

Having thus summarily swept away the grounds of allegiance to the old
order, Paine proceeded relentlessly to an argument for immediate
separation from Great Britain. There was nothing in the sphere of
practical interest, he insisted, which should bind the colonies to the
mother country. Allegiance to her had been responsible for the many wars
in which they had been involved. Reasons of trade were not less weighty
in behalf of independence. "Our corn will fetch its price in any market
in Europe and our imported goods must be paid for, buy them where we
will." As to matters of government, "it is not in the power of Britain
to do this continent justice; the business of it will soon be too
weighty and intricate to be managed with any tolerable degree of
convenience by a power so distant from us and so very ignorant of us."

There is accordingly no alternative to independence for America.
"Everything that is right or natural pleads for separation. The blood of
the slain, the weeping voice of nature cries ''tis time to part.' ...
Arms, the last resort, must decide the contest; the appeal was the
choice of the king and the continent hath accepted the challenge.... The
sun never shone on a cause of greater worth. 'Tis not the affair of a
city, a county, a province or a kingdom, but of a continent.... 'Tis not
the concern of a day, a year or an age; posterity is involved in the
contest and will be more or less affected to the end of time by the
proceedings now. Now is the seed-time of Continental union, faith, and
honor.... O! ye that love mankind! Ye that dare oppose not only the
tyranny, but the tyrant, stand forth.... Let names of Whig and Tory be
extinct. Let none other be heard among us than those of a good citizen,
an open and resolute friend, and a virtuous supporter of the rights of
mankind and of the free and independent states of America." As more than
100,000 copies were scattered broadcast over the country, patriots
exclaimed with Washington: "Sound doctrine and unanswerable reason!"

=The Drift of Events toward Independence.=--Official support for the
idea of independence began to come from many quarters. On the tenth of
February, 1776, Gadsden, in the provincial convention of South Carolina,
advocated a new constitution for the colony and absolute independence
for all America. The convention balked at the latter but went half way
by abolishing the system of royal administration and establishing a
complete plan of self-government. A month later, on April 12, the
neighboring state of North Carolina uttered the daring phrase from which
others shrank. It empowered its representatives in the Congress to
concur with the delegates of the other colonies in declaring
independence. Rhode Island, Massachusetts, and Virginia quickly
responded to the challenge. The convention of the Old Dominion, on May
15, instructed its delegates at Philadelphia to propose the independence
of the United Colonies and to give the assent of Virginia to the act of
separation. When the resolution was carried the British flag on the
state house was lowered for all time.

Meanwhile the Continental Congress was alive to the course of events
outside. The subject of independence was constantly being raised. "Are
we rebels?" exclaimed Wyeth of Virginia during a debate in February.
"No: we must declare ourselves a free people." Others hesitated and
spoke of waiting for the arrival of commissioners of conciliation. "Is
not America already independent?" asked Samuel Adams a few weeks later.
"Why not then declare it?" Still there was uncertainty and delegates
avoided the direct word. A few more weeks elapsed. At last, on May 10,
Congress declared that the authority of the British crown in America
must be suppressed and advised the colonies to set up governments of
their own.

[Illustration: _From an old print_

THOMAS JEFFERSON READING HIS DRAFT OF THE DECLARATION OF
INDEPENDENCE TO THE COMMITTEE OF CONGRESS]

=Independence Declared.=--The way was fully prepared, therefore, when,
on June 7, the Virginia delegation in the Congress moved that "these
united colonies are and of right ought to be free and independent
states." A committee was immediately appointed to draft a formal
document setting forth the reasons for the act, and on July 2 all the
states save New York went on record in favor of severing their political
connection with Great Britain. Two days later, July 4, Jefferson's draft
of the Declaration of Independence, changed in some slight particulars,
was adopted. The old bell in Independence Hall, as it is now known, rang
out the glad tidings; couriers swiftly carried the news to the uttermost
hamlet and farm. A new nation announced its will to have a place among
the powers of the world.

To some documents is given immortality. The Declaration of Independence
is one of them. American patriotism is forever associated with it; but
patriotism alone does not make it immortal. Neither does the vigor of
its language or the severity of its indictment give it a secure place in
the records of time. The secret of its greatness lies in the simple fact
that it is one of the memorable landmarks in the history of a political
ideal which for three centuries has been taking form and spreading
throughout the earth, challenging kings and potentates, shaking down
thrones and aristocracies, breaking the armies of irresponsible power on
battle fields as far apart as Marston Moor and Chateau-Thierry. That
ideal, now so familiar, then so novel, is summed up in the simple
sentence: "Governments derive their just powers from the consent of the
governed."

Written in a "decent respect for the opinions of mankind," to set forth
the causes which impelled the American colonists to separate from
Britain, the Declaration contained a long list of "abuses and
usurpations" which had induced them to throw off the government of King
George. That section of the Declaration has passed into "ancient"
history and is seldom read. It is the part laying down a new basis for
government and giving a new dignity to the common man that has become a
household phrase in the Old World as in the New.

In the more enduring passages there are four fundamental ideas which,
from the standpoint of the old system of government, were the essence of
revolution: (1) all men are created equal and are endowed by their
Creator with certain unalienable rights including life, liberty, and the
pursuit of happiness; (2) the purpose of government is to secure these
rights; (3) governments derive their just powers from the consent of the
governed; (4) whenever any form of government becomes destructive of
these ends it is the right of the people to alter or abolish it and
institute new government, laying its foundations on such principles and
organizing its powers in such form as to them shall seem most likely to
effect their safety and happiness. Here was the prelude to the historic
drama of democracy--a challenge to every form of government and every
privilege not founded on popular assent.


THE ESTABLISHMENT OF GOVERNMENT AND THE NEW ALLEGIANCE

=The Committees of Correspondence.=--As soon as debate had passed into
armed resistance, the patriots found it necessary to consolidate their
forces by organizing civil government. This was readily effected, for
the means were at hand in town meetings, provincial legislatures, and
committees of correspondence. The working tools of the Revolution were
in fact the committees of correspondence--small, local, unofficial
groups of patriots formed to exchange views and create public sentiment.
As early as November, 1772, such a committee had been created in Boston
under the leadership of Samuel Adams. It held regular meetings, sent
emissaries to neighboring towns, and carried on a campaign of education
in the doctrines of liberty.

[Illustration: THE COLONIES OF NORTH AMERICA AT THE TIME OF THE
DECLARATION OF INDEPENDENCE]

Upon local organizations similar in character to the Boston committee
were built county committees and then the larger colonial committees,
congresses, and conventions, all unofficial and representing the
revolutionary elements. Ordinarily the provincial convention was merely
the old legislative assembly freed from all royalist sympathizers and
controlled by patriots. Finally, upon these colonial assemblies was
built the Continental Congress, the precursor of union under the
Articles of Confederation and ultimately under the Constitution of the
United States. This was the revolutionary government set up within the
British empire in America.

=State Constitutions Framed.=--With the rise of these new assemblies of
the people, the old colonial governments broke down. From the royal
provinces the governor, the judges, and the high officers fled in haste,
and it became necessary to substitute patriot authorities. The appeal to
the colonies advising them to adopt a new form of government for
themselves, issued by the Congress in May, 1776, was quickly acted upon.
Before the expiration of a year, Virginia, New Jersey, Pennsylvania,
Delaware, Maryland, Georgia, and New York had drafted new constitutions
as states, not as colonies uncertain of their destinies. Connecticut and
Rhode Island, holding that their ancient charters were equal to their
needs, merely renounced their allegiance to the king and went on as
before so far as the form of government was concerned. South Carolina,
which had drafted a temporary plan early in 1776, drew up a new and more
complete constitution in 1778. Two years later Massachusetts with much
deliberation put into force its fundamental law, which in most of its
essential features remains unchanged to-day.

The new state constitutions in their broad outlines followed colonial
models. For the royal governor was substituted a governor or president
chosen usually by the legislature; but in two instances, New York and
Massachusetts, by popular vote. For the provincial council there was
substituted, except in Georgia, a senate; while the lower house, or
assembly, was continued virtually without change. The old property
restriction on the suffrage, though lowered slightly in some states, was
continued in full force to the great discontent of the mechanics thus
deprived of the ballot. The special qualifications, laid down in several
constitutions, for governors, senators, and representatives, indicated
that the revolutionary leaders were not prepared for any radical
experiments in democracy. The protests of a few women, like Mrs. John
Adams of Massachusetts and Mrs. Henry Corbin of Virginia, against a
government which excluded them from political rights were treated as
mild curiosities of no significance, although in New Jersey women were
allowed to vote for many years on the same terms as men.

By the new state constitutions the signs and symbols of royal power, of
authority derived from any source save "the people," were swept aside
and republican governments on an imposing scale presented for the first
time to the modern world. Copies of these remarkable documents prepared
by plain citizens were translated into French and widely circulated in
Europe. There they were destined to serve as a guide and inspiration to
a generation of constitution-makers whose mission it was to begin the
democratic revolution in the Old World.

=The Articles of Confederation.=--The formation of state constitutions
was an easy task for the revolutionary leaders. They had only to build
on foundations already laid. The establishment of a national system of
government was another matter. There had always been, it must be
remembered, a system of central control over the colonies, but Americans
had had little experience in its operation. When the supervision of the
crown of Great Britain was suddenly broken, the patriot leaders,
accustomed merely to provincial statesmanship, were poorly trained for
action on a national stage.

Many forces worked against those who, like Franklin, had a vision of
national destiny. There were differences in economic interest--commerce
and industry in the North and the planting system of the South. There
were contests over the apportionment of taxes and the quotas of troops
for common defense. To these practical difficulties were added local
pride, the vested rights of state and village politicians in their
provincial dignity, and the scarcity of men with a large outlook upon
the common enterprise.

Nevertheless, necessity compelled them to consider some sort of
federation. The second Continental Congress had hardly opened its work
before the most sagacious leaders began to urge the desirability of a
permanent connection. As early as July, 1775, Congress resolved to go
into a committee of the whole on the state of the union, and Franklin,
undaunted by the fate of his Albany plan of twenty years before, again
presented a draft of a constitution. Long and desultory debates followed
and it was not until late in 1777 that Congress presented to the states
the Articles of Confederation. Provincial jealousies delayed
ratification, and it was the spring of 1781, a few months before the
surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown, when Maryland, the last of the
states, approved the Articles. This plan of union, though it was all
that could be wrung from the reluctant states, provided for neither a
chief executive nor a system of federal courts. It created simply a
Congress of delegates in which each state had an equal voice and gave it
the right to call upon the state legislatures for the sinews of
government--money and soldiers.

=The Application of Tests of Allegiance.=--As the successive steps were
taken in the direction of independent government, the patriots devised
and applied tests designed to discover who were for and who were against
the new nation in the process of making. When the first Continental
Congress agreed not to allow the importation of British goods, it
provided for the creation of local committees to enforce the rules. Such
agencies were duly formed by the choice of men favoring the scheme, all
opponents being excluded from the elections. Before these bodies those
who persisted in buying British goods were summoned and warned or
punished according to circumstances. As soon as the new state
constitutions were put into effect, local committees set to work in the
same way to ferret out all who were not outspoken in their support of
the new order of things.

[Illustration: MOBBING THE TORIES]

These patriot agencies, bearing different names in different sections,
were sometimes ruthless in their methods. They called upon all men to
sign the test of loyalty, frequently known as the "association test."
Those who refused were promptly branded as outlaws, while some of the
more dangerous were thrown into jail. The prison camp in Connecticut at
one time held the former governor of New Jersey and the mayor of New
York. Thousands were black-listed and subjected to espionage. The
black-list of Pennsylvania contained the names of nearly five hundred
persons of prominence who were under suspicion. Loyalists or Tories who
were bold enough to speak and write against the Revolution were
suppressed and their pamphlets burned. In many places, particularly in
the North, the property of the loyalists was confiscated and the
proceeds applied to the cause of the Revolution.

The work of the official agencies for suppression of opposition was
sometimes supplemented by mob violence. A few Tories were hanged without
trial, and others were tarred and feathered. One was placed upon a cake
of ice and held there "until his loyalty to King George might cool."
Whole families were driven out of their homes to find their way as best
they could within the British lines or into Canada, where the British
government gave them lands. Such excesses were deplored by Washington,
but they were defended on the ground that in effect a civil war, as well
as a war for independence, was being waged.

=The Patriots and Tories.=--Thus, by one process or another, those who
were to be citizens of the new republic were separated from those who
preferred to be subjects of King George. Just what proportion of the
Americans favored independence and what share remained loyal to the
British monarchy there is no way of knowing. The question of revolution
was not submitted to popular vote, and on the point of numbers we have
conflicting evidence. On the patriot side, there is the testimony of a
careful and informed observer, John Adams, who asserted that two-thirds
of the people were for the American cause and not more than one-third
opposed the Revolution at all stages.

On behalf of the loyalists, or Tories as they were popularly known,
extravagant claims were made. Joseph Galloway, who had been a member of
the first Continental Congress and had fled to England when he saw its
temper, testified before a committee of Parliament in 1779 that not
one-fifth of the American people supported the insurrection and that
"many more than four-fifths of the people prefer a union with Great
Britain upon constitutional principles to independence." At the same
time General Robertson, who had lived in America twenty-four years,
declared that "more than two-thirds of the people would prefer the
king's government to the Congress' tyranny." In an address to the king
in that year a committee of American loyalists asserted that "the number
of Americans in his Majesty's army exceeded the number of troops
enlisted by Congress to oppose them."

=The Character of the Loyalists.=--When General Howe evacuated Boston,
more than a thousand people fled with him. This great company, according
to a careful historian, "formed the aristocracy of the province by
virtue of their official rank; of their dignified callings and
professions; of their hereditary wealth and of their culture." The act
of banishment passed by Massachusetts in 1778, listing over 300 Tories,
"reads like the social register of the oldest and noblest families of
New England," more than one out of five being graduates of Harvard
College. The same was true of New York and Philadelphia; namely, that
the leading loyalists were prominent officials of the old order,
clergymen and wealthy merchants. With passion the loyalists fought
against the inevitable or with anguish of heart they left as refugees
for a life of uncertainty in Canada or the mother country.

=Tories Assail the Patriots.=--The Tories who remained in America joined
the British army by the thousands or in other ways aided the royal
cause. Those who were skillful with the pen assailed the patriots in
editorials, rhymes, satires, and political catechisms. They declared
that the members of Congress were "obscure, pettifogging attorneys,
bankrupt shopkeepers, outlawed smugglers, etc." The people and their
leaders they characterized as "wretched banditti ... the refuse and
dregs of mankind." The generals in the army they sneered at as "men of
rank and honor nearly on a par with those of the Congress."

=Patriot Writers Arouse the National Spirit.=--Stung by Tory taunts,
patriot writers devoted themselves to creating and sustaining a public
opinion favorable to the American cause. Moreover, they had to combat
the depression that grew out of the misfortunes in the early days of the
war. A terrible disaster befell Generals Arnold and Montgomery in the
winter of 1775 as they attempted to bring Canada into the revolution--a
disaster that cost 5000 men; repeated calamities harassed Washington in
1776 as he was defeated on Long Island, driven out of New York City, and
beaten at Harlem Heights and White Plains. These reverses were almost
too great for the stoutest patriots.

Pamphleteers, preachers, and publicists rose, however, to meet the needs
of the hour. John Witherspoon, provost of the College of New Jersey,
forsook the classroom for the field of political controversy. The poet,
Philip Freneau, flung taunts of cowardice at the Tories and celebrated
the spirit of liberty in many a stirring poem. Songs, ballads, plays,
and satires flowed from the press in an unending stream. Fast days,
battle anniversaries, celebrations of important steps taken by Congress
afforded to patriotic clergymen abundant opportunities for sermons.
"Does Mr. Wiberd preach against oppression?" anxiously inquired John
Adams in a letter to his wife. The answer was decisive. "The clergy of
every denomination, not excepting the Episcopalian, thunder and lighten
every Sabbath. They pray for Boston and Massachusetts. They thank God
most explicitly and fervently for our remarkable successes. They pray
for the American army."

Thomas Paine never let his pen rest. He had been with the forces of
Washington when they retreated from Fort Lee and were harried from New
Jersey into Pennsylvania. He knew the effect of such reverses on the
army as well as on the public. In December, 1776, he made a second great
appeal to his countrymen in his pamphlet, "The Crisis," the first part
of which he had written while defeat and gloom were all about him. This
tract was a cry for continued support of the Revolution. "These are the
times that try men's souls," he opened. "The summer soldier and the
sunshine patriot will, in this crisis, shrink from the service of his
country; but he that stands it now deserves the love and thanks of men
and women." Paine laid his lash fiercely on the Tories, branding every
one as a coward grounded in "servile, slavish, self-interested fear." He
deplored the inadequacy of the militia and called for a real army. He
refuted the charge that the retreat through New Jersey was a disaster
and he promised victory soon. "By perseverance and fortitude," he
concluded, "we have the prospect of a glorious issue; by cowardice and
submission the sad choice of a variety of evils--a ravaged country, a
depopulated city, habitations without safety and slavery without
hope.... Look on this picture and weep over it." His ringing call to
arms was followed by another and another until the long contest was
over.


MILITARY AFFAIRS

=The Two Phases of the War.=--The war which opened with the battle of
Lexington, on April 19, 1775, and closed with the surrender of
Cornwallis at Yorktown on October 19, 1781, passed through two distinct
phases--the first lasting until the treaty of alliance with France, in
1778, and the second until the end of the struggle. During the first
phase, the war was confined mainly to the North. The outstanding
features of the contest were the evacuation of Boston by the British,
the expulsion of American forces from New York and their retreat through
New Jersey, the battle of Trenton, the seizure of Philadelphia by the
British (September, 1777), the invasion of New York by Burgoyne and his
capture at Saratoga in October, 1777, and the encampment of American
forces at Valley Forge for the terrible winter of 1777-78.

The final phase of the war, opening with the treaty of alliance with
France on February 6, 1778, was confined mainly to the Middle states,
the West, and the South. In the first sphere of action the chief events
were the withdrawal of the British from Philadelphia, the battle of
Monmouth, and the inclosure of the British in New York by deploying
American forces from Morristown, New Jersey, up to West Point. In the
West, George Rogers Clark, by his famous march into the Illinois
country, secured Kaskaskia and Vincennes and laid a firm grip on the
country between the Ohio and the Great Lakes. In the South, the second
period opened with successes for the British. They captured Savannah,
conquered Georgia, and restored the royal governor. In 1780 they seized
Charleston, administered a crushing defeat to the American forces under
Gates at Camden, and overran South Carolina, though meeting reverses at
Cowpens and King's Mountain. Then came the closing scenes. Cornwallis
began the last of his operations. He pursued General Greene far into
North Carolina, clashed with him at Guilford Court House, retired to the
coast, took charge of British forces engaged in plundering Virginia, and
fortified Yorktown, where he was penned up by the French fleet from the
sea and the combined French and American forces on land.

=The Geographical Aspects of the War.=--For the British the theater of
the war offered many problems. From first to last it extended from
Massachusetts to Georgia, a distance of almost a thousand miles. It was
nearly three thousand miles from the main base of supplies and, though
the British navy kept the channel open, transports were constantly
falling prey to daring privateers and fleet American war vessels. The
sea, on the other hand, offered an easy means of transportation between
points along the coast and gave ready access to the American centers of
wealth and population. Of this the British made good use. Though early
forced to give up Boston, they seized New York and kept it until the end
of the war; they took Philadelphia and retained it until threatened by
the approach of the French fleet; and they captured and held both
Savannah and Charleston. Wars, however, are seldom won by the conquest
of cities.

Particularly was this true in the case of the Revolution. Only a small
portion of the American people lived in towns. Countrymen back from the
coast were in no way dependent upon them for a livelihood. They lived on
the produce of the soil, not upon the profits of trade. This very fact
gave strength to them in the contest. Whenever the British ventured far
from the ports of entry, they encountered reverses. Burgoyne was forced
to surrender at Saratoga because he was surrounded and cut off from his
base of supplies. As soon as the British got away from Charleston, they
were harassed and worried by the guerrilla warriors of Marion, Sumter,
and Pickens. Cornwallis could technically defeat Greene at Guilford far
in the interior; but he could not hold the inland region he had invaded.
Sustained by their own labor, possessing the interior to which their
armies could readily retreat, supplied mainly from native resources, the
Americans could not be hemmed in, penned up, and destroyed at one fell
blow.

=The Sea Power.=--The British made good use of their fleet in cutting
off American trade, but control of the sea did not seriously affect the
United States. As an agricultural country, the ruin of its commerce was
not such a vital matter. All the materials for a comfortable though
somewhat rude life were right at hand. It made little difference to a
nation fighting for existence, if silks, fine linens, and chinaware were
cut off. This was an evil to which submission was necessary.

Nor did the brilliant exploits of John Paul Jones and Captain John Barry
materially change the situation. They demonstrated the skill of American
seamen and their courage as fighting men. They raised the rates of
British marine insurance, but they did not dethrone the mistress of the
seas. Less spectacular, and more distinctive, were the deeds of the
hundreds of privateers and minor captains who overhauled British supply
ships and kept British merchantmen in constant anxiety. Not until the
French fleet was thrown into the scale, were the British compelled to
reckon seriously with the enemy on the sea and make plans based upon the
possibilities of a maritime disaster.

=Commanding Officers.=--On the score of military leadership it is
difficult to compare the contending forces in the revolutionary contest.
There is no doubt that all the British commanders were men of experience
in the art of warfare. Sir William Howe had served in America during the
French War and was accounted an excellent officer, a strict
disciplinarian, and a gallant gentleman. Nevertheless he loved ease,
society, and good living, and his expulsion from Boston, his failure to
overwhelm Washington by sallies from his comfortable bases at New York
and Philadelphia, destroyed every shred of his military reputation. John
Burgoyne, to whom was given the task of penetrating New York from
Canada, had likewise seen service in the French War both in America and
Europe. He had, however, a touch of the theatrical in his nature and
after the collapse of his plans and the surrender of his army in 1777,
he devoted his time mainly to light literature. Sir Henry Clinton, who
directed the movement which ended in the capture of Charleston in 1780,
had "learned his trade on the continent," and was regarded as a man of
discretion and understanding in military matters. Lord Cornwallis, whose
achievements at Camden and Guilford were blotted out by his surrender at
Yorktown, had seen service in the Seven Years' War and had undoubted
talents which he afterward displayed with great credit to himself in
India. Though none of them, perhaps, were men of first-rate ability,
they all had training and experience to guide them.

[Illustration: GEORGE WASHINGTON]

The Americans had a host in Washington himself. He had long been
interested in military strategy and had tested his coolness under fire
during the first clashes with the French nearly twenty years before. He
had no doubts about the justice of his cause, such as plagued some of
the British generals. He was a stern but reasonable disciplinarian. He
was reserved and patient, little given to exaltation at success or
depression at reverses. In the dark hour of the Revolution, "what held
the patriot forces together?" asks Beveridge in his _Life of John
Marshall_. Then he answers: "George Washington and he alone. Had he
died or been seriously disabled, the Revolution would have ended....
Washington was the soul of the American cause. Washington was the
government. Washington was the Revolution." The weakness of Congress in
furnishing men and supplies, the indolence of civilians, who lived at
ease while the army starved, the intrigues of army officers against him
such as the "Conway cabal," the cowardice of Lee at Monmouth, even the
treason of Benedict Arnold, while they stirred deep emotions in his
breast and aroused him to make passionate pleas to his countrymen, did
not shake his iron will or his firm determination to see the war through
to the bitter end. The weight of Washington's moral force was
immeasurable.

Of the generals who served under him, none can really be said to have
been experienced military men when the war opened. Benedict Arnold, the
unhappy traitor but brave and daring soldier, was a druggist, book
seller, and ship owner at New Haven when the news of Lexington called
him to battle. Horatio Gates was looked upon as a "seasoned soldier"
because he had entered the British army as a youth, had been wounded at
Braddock's memorable defeat, and had served with credit during the Seven
Years' War; but he was the most conspicuous failure of the Revolution.
The triumph over Burgoyne was the work of other men; and his crushing
defeat at Camden put an end to his military pretensions. Nathanael
Greene was a Rhode Island farmer and smith without military experience
who, when convinced that war was coming, read Caesar's _Commentaries_ and
took up the sword. Francis Marion was a shy and modest planter of South
Carolina whose sole passage at arms had been a brief but desperate brush
with the Indians ten or twelve years earlier. Daniel Morgan, one of the
heroes of Cowpens, had been a teamster with Braddock's army and had seen
some fighting during the French and Indian War, but his military
knowledge, from the point of view of a trained British officer, was
negligible. John Sullivan was a successful lawyer at Durham, New
Hampshire, and a major in the local militia when duty summoned him to
lay down his briefs and take up the sword. Anthony Wayne was a
Pennsylvania farmer and land surveyor who, on hearing the clash of arms,
read a few books on war, raised a regiment, and offered himself for
service. Such is the story of the chief American military leaders, and
it is typical of them all. Some had seen fighting with the French and
Indians, but none of them had seen warfare on a large scale with regular
troops commanded according to the strategy evolved in European
experience. Courage, native ability, quickness of mind, and knowledge of
the country they had in abundance, and in battles such as were fought
during the Revolution all those qualities counted heavily in the
balance.

=Foreign Officers in American Service.=--To native genius was added
military talent from beyond the seas. Baron Steuben, well schooled in
the iron regime of Frederick the Great, came over from Prussia, joined
Washington at Valley Forge, and day after day drilled and manoeuvered the
men, laughing and cursing as he turned raw countrymen into regular
soldiers. From France came young Lafayette and the stern De Kalb, from
Poland came Pulaski and Kosciusko;--all acquainted with the arts of war
as waged in Europe and fitted for leadership as well as teaching.
Lafayette came early, in 1776, in a ship of his own, accompanied by
several officers of wide experience, and remained loyally throughout the
war sharing the hardships of American army life. Pulaski fell at the
siege of Savannah and De Kalb at Camden. Kosciusko survived the American
war to defend in vain the independence of his native land. To these
distinguished foreigners, who freely threw in their lot with American
revolutionary fortunes, was due much of that spirit and discipline which
fitted raw recruits and temperamental militiamen to cope with a military
power of the first rank.

=The Soldiers.=--As far as the British soldiers were concerned their
annals are short and simple. The regulars from the standing army who
were sent over at the opening of the contest, the recruits drummed up
by special efforts at home, and the thousands of Hessians bought
outright by King George presented few problems of management to the
British officers. These common soldiers were far away from home and
enlisted for the war. Nearly all of them were well disciplined and many
of them experienced in actual campaigns. The armies of King George
fought bravely, as the records of Bunker Hill, Brandywine, and Monmouth
demonstrate. Many a man and subordinate officer and, for that matter,
some of the high officers expressed a reluctance at fighting against
their own kin; but they obeyed orders.

The Americans, on the other hand, while they fought with grim
determination, as men fighting for their homes, were lacking in
discipline and in the experience of regular troops. When the war broke
in upon them, there were no common preparations for it. There was no
continental army; there were only local bands of militiamen, many of
them experienced in fighting but few of them "regulars" in the military
sense. Moreover they were volunteers serving for a short time,
unaccustomed to severe discipline, and impatient at the restraints
imposed on them by long and arduous campaigns. They were continually
leaving the service just at the most critical moments. "The militia,"
lamented Washington, "come in, you cannot tell how; go, you cannot tell
where; consume your provisions; exhaust your stores; and leave you at
last at a critical moment."

Again and again Washington begged Congress to provide for an army of
regulars enlisted for the war, thoroughly trained and paid according to
some definite plan. At last he was able to overcome, in part at least,
the chronic fear of civilians in Congress and to wring from that
reluctant body an agreement to grant half pay to all officers and a
bonus to all privates who served until the end of the war. Even this
scheme, which Washington regarded as far short of justice to the
soldiers, did not produce quick results. It was near the close of the
conflict before he had an army of well-disciplined veterans capable of
meeting British regulars on equal terms.

Though there were times when militiamen and frontiersmen did valiant and
effective work, it is due to historical accuracy to deny the
time-honored tradition that a few minutemen overwhelmed more numerous
forces of regulars in a seven years' war for independence. They did
nothing of the sort. For the victories of Bennington, Trenton, Saratoga,
and Yorktown there were the defeats of Bunker Hill, Long Island, White
Plains, Germantown, and Camden. Not once did an army of militiamen
overcome an equal number of British regulars in an open trial by battle.
"To bring men to be well acquainted with the duties of a soldier," wrote
Washington, "requires time.... To expect the same service from raw and
undisciplined recruits as from veteran soldiers is to expect what never
did and perhaps never will happen."

=How the War Was Won.=--Then how did the American army win the war? For
one thing there were delays and blunders on the part of the British
generals who, in 1775 and 1776, dallied in Boston and New York with
large bodies of regular troops when they might have been dealing
paralyzing blows at the scattered bands that constituted the American
army. "Nothing but the supineness or folly of the enemy could have saved
us," solemnly averred Washington in 1780. Still it is fair to say that
this apparent supineness was not all due to the British generals. The
ministers behind them believed that a large part of the colonists were
loyal and that compromise would be promoted by inaction rather than by a
war vigorously prosecuted. Victory by masterly inactivity was obviously
better than conquest, and the slighter the wounds the quicker the
healing. Later in the conflict when the seasoned forces of France were
thrown into the scale, the Americans themselves had learned many things
about the practical conduct of campaigns. All along, the British were
embarrassed by the problem of supplies. Their troops could not forage
with the skill of militiamen, as they were in unfamiliar territory. The
long oversea voyages were uncertain at best and doubly so when the
warships of France joined the American privateers in preying on supply
boats.

The British were in fact battered and worn down by a guerrilla war and
outdone on two important occasions by superior forces--at Saratoga and
Yorktown. Stern facts convinced them finally that an immense army, which
could be raised only by a supreme effort, would be necessary to subdue
the colonies if that hazardous enterprise could be accomplished at all.
They learned also that America would then be alienated, fretful, and the
scene of endless uprisings calling for an army of occupation. That was a
price which staggered even Lord North and George III. Moreover, there
were forces of opposition at home with which they had to reckon.

=Women and the War.=--At no time were the women of America indifferent
to the struggle for independence. When it was confined to the realm of
opinion they did their part in creating public sentiment. Mrs. Elizabeth
Timothee, for example, founded in Charleston, in 1773, a newspaper to
espouse the cause of the province. Far to the north the sister of James
Otis, Mrs. Mercy Warren, early begged her countrymen to rest their case
upon their natural rights, and in influential circles she urged the
leaders to stand fast by their principles. While John Adams was tossing
about with uncertainty at the Continental Congress, his wife was writing
letters to him declaring her faith in "independency."

When the war came down upon the country, women helped in every field. In
sustaining public sentiment they were active. Mrs. Warren with a
tireless pen combatted loyalist propaganda in many a drama and satire.
Almost every revolutionary leader had a wife or daughter who rendered
service in the "second line of defense." Mrs. Washington managed the
plantation while the General was at the front and went north to face the
rigors of the awful winter at Valley Forge--an inspiration to her
husband and his men. The daughter of Benjamin Franklin, Mrs. Sarah
Bache, while her father was pleading the American cause in France, set
the women of Pennsylvania to work sewing and collecting supplies. Even
near the firing line women were to be found, aiding the wounded, hauling
powder to the front, and carrying dispatches at the peril of their
lives.

In the economic sphere, the work of women was invaluable. They harvested
crops without enjoying the picturesque title of "farmerettes" and they
canned and preserved for the wounded and the prisoners of war. Of their
labor in spinning and weaving it is recorded: "Immediately on being cut
off from the use of English manufactures, the women engaged within their
own families in manufacturing various kinds of cloth for domestic use.
They thus kept their households decently clad and the surplus of their
labors they sold to such as chose to buy rather than make for
themselves. In this way the female part of families by their industry
and strict economy frequently supported the whole domestic circle,
evincing the strength of their attachment and the value of their
service."

For their war work, women were commended by high authorities on more
than one occasion. They were given medals and public testimonials even
as in our own day. Washington thanked them for their labors and paid
tribute to them for the inspiration and material aid which they had
given to the cause of independence.


THE FINANCES OF THE REVOLUTION

When the Revolution opened, there were thirteen little treasuries in
America but no common treasury, and from first to last the Congress was
in the position of a beggar rather than a sovereign. Having no authority
to lay and collect taxes directly and knowing the hatred of the
provincials for taxation, it resorted mainly to loans and paper money to
finance the war. "Do you think," boldly inquired one of the delegates,
"that I will consent to load my constituents with taxes when we can send
to the printer and get a wagon load of money, one quire of which will
pay for the whole?"

=Paper Money and Loans.=--Acting on this curious but appealing political
economy, Congress issued in June, 1776, two million dollars in bills of
credit to be redeemed by the states on the basis of their respective
populations. Other issues followed in quick succession. In all about
$241,000,000 of continental paper was printed, to which the several
states added nearly $210,000,000 of their own notes. Then came
interest-bearing bonds in ever increasing quantities. Several millions
were also borrowed from France and small sums from Holland and Spain. In
desperation a national lottery was held, producing meager results. The
property of Tories was confiscated and sold, bringing in about
$16,000,000. Begging letters were sent to the states asking them to
raise revenues for the continental treasury, but the states, burdened
with their own affairs, gave little heed.

=Inflation and Depreciation.=--As paper money flowed from the press, it
rapidly declined in purchasing power until in 1779 a dollar was worth
only two or three cents in gold or silver. Attempts were made by
Congress and the states to compel people to accept the notes at face
value; but these were like attempts to make water flow uphill.
Speculators collected at once to fatten on the calamities of the
republic. Fortunes were made and lost gambling on the prices of public
securities while the patriot army, half clothed, was freezing at Valley
Forge. "Speculation, peculation, engrossing, forestalling," exclaimed
Washington, "afford too many melancholy proofs of the decay of public
virtue. Nothing, I am convinced, but the depreciation of our currency
... aided by stock jobbing and party dissensions has fed the hopes of
the enemy."

=The Patriot Financiers.=--To the efforts of Congress in financing the
war were added the labors of private citizens. Hayn Solomon, a merchant
of Philadelphia, supplied members of Congress, including Madison,
Jefferson, and Monroe, and army officers, like Lee and Steuben, with
money for their daily needs. All together he contributed the huge sum of
half a million dollars to the American cause and died broken in purse,
if not in spirit, a British prisoner of war. Another Philadelphia
merchant, Robert Morris, won for himself the name of the "patriot
financier" because he labored night and day to find the money to meet
the bills which poured in upon the bankrupt government. When his own
funds were exhausted, he borrowed from his friends. Experienced in the
handling of merchandise, he created agencies at important points to
distribute supplies to the troops, thus displaying administrative as
well as financial talents.

[Illustration: ROBERT MORRIS]

Women organized "drives" for money, contributed their plate and their
jewels, and collected from door to door. Farmers took worthless paper in
return for their produce, and soldiers saw many a pay day pass without
yielding them a penny. Thus by the labors and sacrifices of citizens,
the issuance of paper money, lotteries, the floating of loans,
borrowings in Europe, and the impressment of supplies, the Congress
staggered through the Revolution like a pauper who knows not how his
next meal is to be secured but is continuously relieved at a crisis by a
kindly fate.


THE DIPLOMACY OF THE REVOLUTION

When the full measure of honor is given to the soldiers and sailors and
their commanding officers, the civilians who managed finances and
supplies, the writers who sustained the American spirit, and the women
who did well their part, there yet remains the duty of recognizing the
achievements of diplomacy. The importance of this field of activity was
keenly appreciated by the leaders in the Continental Congress. They were
fairly well versed in European history. They knew of the balance of
power and the sympathies, interests, and prejudices of nations and their
rulers. All this information they turned to good account, in opening
relations with continental countries and seeking money, supplies, and
even military assistance. For the transaction of this delicate business,
they created a secret committee on foreign correspondence as early as
1775 and prepared to send agents abroad.

=American Agents Sent Abroad.=--Having heard that France was inclining a
friendly ear to the American cause, the Congress, in March, 1776, sent a
commissioner to Paris, Silas Deane of Connecticut, often styled the
"first American diplomat." Later in the year a form of treaty to be
presented to foreign powers was drawn up, and Franklin, Arthur Lee, and
Deane were selected as American representatives at the court of "His
Most Christian Majesty the King of France." John Jay of New York was
chosen minister to Spain in 1779; John Adams was sent to Holland the
same year; and other agents were dispatched to Florence, Vienna, and
Berlin. The representative selected for St. Petersburg spent two
fruitless years there, "ignored by the court, living in obscurity and
experiencing nothing but humiliation and failure." Frederick the Great,
king of Prussia, expressed a desire to find in America a market for
Silesian linens and woolens, but, fearing England's command of the sea,
he refused to give direct aid to the Revolutionary cause.

=Early French Interest.=--The great diplomatic triumph of the Revolution
was won at Paris, and Benjamin Franklin was the hero of the occasion,
although many circumstances prepared the way for his success. Louis
XVI's foreign minister, Count de Vergennes, before the arrival of any
American representative, had brought to the attention of the king the
opportunity offered by the outbreak of the war between England and her
colonies. He showed him how France could redress her grievances and
"reduce the power and greatness of England"--the empire that in 1763 had
forced upon her a humiliating peace "at the price of our possessions,
of our commerce, and our credit in the Indies, at the price of Canada,
Louisiana, Isle Royale, Acadia, and Senegal." Equally successful in
gaining the king's interest was a curious French adventurer,
Beaumarchais, a man of wealth, a lover of music, and the author of two
popular plays, "Figaro" and "The Barber of Seville." These two men had
already urged upon the king secret aid for America before Deane appeared
on the scene. Shortly after his arrival they made confidential
arrangements to furnish money, clothing, powder, and other supplies to
the struggling colonies, although official requests for them were
officially refused by the French government.

=Franklin at Paris.=--When Franklin reached Paris, he was received only
in private by the king's minister, Vergennes. The French people,
however, made manifest their affection for the "plain republican" in
"his full dress suit of spotted Manchester velvet." He was known among
men of letters as an author, a scientist, and a philosopher of
extraordinary ability. His "Poor Richard" had thrice been translated
into French and was scattered in numerous editions throughout the
kingdom. People of all ranks--ministers, ladies at court, philosophers,
peasants, and stable boys--knew of Franklin and wished him success in
his mission. The queen, Marie Antoinette, fated to lose her head in a
revolution soon to follow, played with fire by encouraging "our dear
republican."

For the king of France, however, this was more serious business. England
resented the presence of this "traitor" in Paris, and Louis had to be
cautious about plunging into another war that might also end
disastrously. Moreover, the early period of Franklin's sojourn in Paris
was a dark hour for the American Revolution. Washington's brilliant
exploit at Trenton on Christmas night, 1776, and the battle with
Cornwallis at Princeton had been followed by the disaster at Brandywine,
the loss of Philadelphia, the defeat at Germantown, and the retirement
to Valley Forge for the winter of 1777-78. New York City and
Philadelphia--two strategic ports--were in British hands; the Hudson
and Delaware rivers were blocked; and General Burgoyne with his British
troops was on his way down through the heart of northern New York,
cutting New England off from the rest of the colonies. No wonder the
king was cautious. Then the unexpected happened. Burgoyne, hemmed in
from all sides by the American forces, his flanks harried, his foraging
parties beaten back, his supplies cut off, surrendered on October 17,
1777, to General Gates, who had superseded General Schuyler in time to
receive the honor.

=Treaties of Alliance and Commerce (1778).=--News of this victory,
placed by historians among the fifteen decisive battles of the world,
reached Franklin one night early in December while he and some friends
sat gloomily at dinner. Beaumarchais, who was with him, grasped at once
the meaning of the situation and set off to the court at Versailles with
such haste that he upset his coach and dislocated his arm. The king and
his ministers were at last convinced that the hour had come to aid the
Revolution. Treaties of commerce and alliance were drawn up and signed
in February, 1778. The independence of the United States was recognized
by France and an alliance was formed to guarantee that independence.
Combined military action was agreed upon and Louis then formally
declared war on England. Men who had, a few short years before, fought
one another in the wilderness of Pennsylvania or on the Plains of
Abraham, were now ranged side by side in a war on the Empire that Pitt
had erected and that George III was pulling down.

=Spain and Holland Involved.=--Within a few months, Spain, remembering
the steady decline of her sea power since the days of the Armada and
hoping to drive the British out of Gibraltar, once more joined the
concert of nations against England. Holland, a member of a league of
armed neutrals formed in protest against British searches on the high
seas, sent her fleet to unite with the forces of Spain, France, and
America to prey upon British commerce. To all this trouble for England
was added the danger of a possible revolt in Ireland, where the spirit
of independence was flaming up.

=The British Offer Terms to America.=--Seeing the colonists about to be
joined by France in a common war on the English empire, Lord North
proposed, in February, 1778, a renewal of negotiations. By solemn
enactment, Parliament declared its intention not to exercise the right
of imposing taxes within the colonies; at the same time it authorized
the opening of negotiations through commissioners to be sent to America.
A truce was to be established, pardons granted, objectionable laws
suspended, and the old imperial constitution, as it stood before the
opening of hostilities, restored to full vigor. It was too late. Events
had taken the affairs of America out of the hands of British
commissioners and diplomats.

=Effects of French Aid.=--The French alliance brought ships of war,
large sums of gold and silver, loads of supplies, and a considerable
body of trained soldiers to the aid of the Americans. Timely as was this
help, it meant no sudden change in the fortunes of war. The British
evacuated Philadelphia in the summer following the alliance, and
Washington's troops were encouraged to come out of Valley Forge. They
inflicted a heavy blow on the British at Monmouth, but the treasonable
conduct of General Charles Lee prevented a triumph. The recovery of
Philadelphia was offset by the treason of Benedict Arnold, the loss of
Savannah and Charleston (1780), and the defeat of Gates at Camden.

The full effect of the French alliance was not felt until 1781, when
Cornwallis went into Virginia and settled at Yorktown. Accompanied by
French troops Washington swept rapidly southward and penned the British
to the shore while a powerful French fleet shut off their escape by sea.
It was this movement, which certainly could not have been executed
without French aid, that put an end to all chance of restoring British
dominion in America. It was the surrender of Cornwallis at Yorktown that
caused Lord North to pace the floor and cry out: "It is all over! It is
all over!" What might have been done without the French alliance lies
hidden from mankind. What was accomplished with the help of French
soldiers, sailors, officers, money, and supplies, is known to all the
earth. "All the world agree," exultantly wrote Franklin from Paris to
General Washington, "that no expedition was ever better planned or
better executed. It brightens the glory that must accompany your name to
the latest posterity." Diplomacy as well as martial valor had its
reward.


PEACE AT LAST

=British Opposition to the War.=--In measuring the forces that led to
the final discomfiture of King George and Lord North, it is necessary to
remember that from the beginning to the end the British ministry at home
faced a powerful, informed, and relentless opposition. There were
vigorous protests, first against the obnoxious acts which precipitated
the unhappy quarrel, then against the way in which the war was waged,
and finally against the futile struggle to retain a hold upon the
American dominions. Among the members of Parliament who thundered
against the government were the first statesmen and orators of the land.
William Pitt, Earl of Chatham, though he deplored the idea of American
independence, denounced the government as the aggressor and rejoiced in
American resistance. Edmund Burke leveled his heavy batteries against
every measure of coercion and at last strove for a peace which, while
giving independence to America, would work for reconciliation rather
than estrangement. Charles James Fox gave the colonies his generous
sympathy and warmly championed their rights. Outside of the circle of
statesmen there were stout friends of the American cause like David
Hume, the philosopher and historian, and Catherine Macaulay, an author
of wide fame and a republican bold enough to encourage Washington in
seeing it through.

Against this powerful opposition, the government enlisted a whole army
of scribes and journalists to pour out criticism on the Americans and
their friends. Dr. Samuel Johnson, whom it employed in this business,
was so savage that even the ministers had to tone down his pamphlets
before printing them. Far more weighty was Edward Gibbon, who was in
time to win fame as the historian of the _Decline and Fall of the Roman
Empire_. He had at first opposed the government; but, on being given a
lucrative post, he used his sharp pen in its support, causing his
friends to ridicule him in these lines:

    "King George, in a fright
     Lest Gibbon should write
       The story of England's disgrace,
     Thought no way so sure
     His pen to secure
       As to give the historian a place."

=Lord North Yields.=--As time wore on, events bore heavily on the side
of the opponents of the government's measures. They had predicted that
conquest was impossible, and they had urged the advantages of a peace
which would in some measure restore the affections of the Americans.
Every day's news confirmed their predictions and lent support to their
arguments. Moreover, the war, which sprang out of an effort to relieve
English burdens, made those burdens heavier than ever. Military expenses
were daily increasing. Trade with the colonies, the greatest single
outlet for British goods and capital, was paralyzed. The heavy debts due
British merchants in America were not only unpaid but postponed into an
indefinite future. Ireland was on the verge of revolution. The French
had a dangerous fleet on the high seas. In vain did the king assert in
December, 1781, that no difficulties would ever make him consent to a
peace that meant American independence. Parliament knew better, and on
February 27, 1782, in the House of Commons was carried an address to the
throne against continuing the war. Burke, Fox, the younger Pitt, Barre,
and other friends of the colonies voted in the affirmative. Lord North
gave notice then that his ministry was at an end. The king moaned:
"Necessity made me yield."

In April, 1782, Franklin received word from the English government that
it was prepared to enter into negotiations leading to a settlement. This
was embarrassing. In the treaty of alliance with France, the United
States had promised that peace should be a joint affair agreed to by
both nations in open conference. Finding France, however, opposed to
some of their claims respecting boundaries and fisheries, the American
commissioners conferred with the British agents at Paris without
consulting the French minister. They actually signed a preliminary peace
draft before they informed him of their operations. When Vergennes
reproached him, Franklin replied that they "had been guilty of
neglecting _bienseance_ [good manners] but hoped that the great work
would not be ruined by a single indiscretion."

=The Terms of Peace (1783).=--The general settlement at Paris in 1783
was a triumph for America. England recognized the independence of the
United States, naming each state specifically, and agreed to boundaries
extending from the Atlantic to the Mississippi and from the Great Lakes
to the Floridas. England held Canada, Newfoundland, and the West Indies
intact, made gains in India, and maintained her supremacy on the seas.
Spain won Florida and Minorca but not the coveted Gibraltar. France
gained nothing important save the satisfaction of seeing England humbled
and the colonies independent.

The generous terms secured by the American commission at Paris called
forth surprise and gratitude in the United States and smoothed the way
for a renewal of commercial relations with the mother country. At the
same time they gave genuine anxiety to European diplomats. "This federal
republic is born a pigmy," wrote the Spanish ambassador to his royal
master. "A day will come when it will be a giant; even a colossus
formidable to these countries. Liberty of conscience and the facility
for establishing a new population on immense lands, as well as the
advantages of the new government, will draw thither farmers and artisans
from all the nations. In a few years we shall watch with grief the
tyrannical existence of the same colossus."

[Illustration: NORTH AMERICA ACCORDING TO THE TREATY OF 1783]


SUMMARY OF THE REVOLUTIONARY PERIOD

The independence of the American colonies was foreseen by many European
statesmen as they watched the growth of their population, wealth, and
power; but no one could fix the hour of the great event. Until 1763 the
American colonists lived fairly happily under British dominion. There
were collisions from time to time, of course. Royal governors clashed
with stiff-necked colonial legislatures. There were protests against the
exercise of the king's veto power in specific cases. Nevertheless, on
the whole, the relations between America and the mother country were
more amicable in 1763 than at any period under the Stuart regime which
closed in 1688.

The crash, when it came, was not deliberately willed by any one. It was
the product of a number of forces that happened to converge about 1763.
Three years before, there had come to the throne George III, a young,
proud, inexperienced, and stubborn king. For nearly fifty years his
predecessors, Germans as they were in language and interest, had allowed
things to drift in England and America. George III decided that he would
be king in fact as well as in name. About the same time England brought
to a close the long and costly French and Indian War and was staggering
under a heavy burden of debt and taxes. The war had been fought partly
in defense of the American colonies and nothing seemed more reasonable
to English statesmen than the idea that the colonies should bear part of
the cost of their own defense. At this juncture there came into
prominence, in royal councils, two men bent on taxing America and
controlling her trade, Grenville and Townshend. The king was willing,
the English taxpayers were thankful for any promise of relief, and
statesmen were found to undertake the experiment. England therefore set
out upon a new course. She imposed taxes upon the colonists, regulated
their trade and set royal officers upon them to enforce the law. This
action evoked protests from the colonists. They held a Stamp Act
Congress to declare their rights and petition for a redress of
grievances. Some of the more restless spirits rioted in the streets,
sacked the houses of the king's officers, and tore up the stamped paper.

Frightened by uprising, the English government drew back and repealed
the Stamp Act. Then it veered again and renewed its policy of
interference. Interference again called forth American protests.
Protests aroused sharper retaliation. More British regulars were sent
over to keep order. More irritating laws were passed by Parliament.
Rioting again appeared: tea was dumped in the harbor of Boston and
seized in the harbor of Charleston. The British answer was more force.
The response of the colonists was a Continental Congress for defense. An
unexpected and unintended clash of arms at Lexington and Concord in the
spring of 1775 brought forth from the king of England a proclamation:
"The Americans are rebels!"

The die was cast. The American Revolution had begun. Washington was made
commander-in-chief. Armies were raised, money was borrowed, a huge
volume of paper currency was issued, and foreign aid was summoned.
Franklin plied his diplomatic arts at Paris until in 1778 he induced
France to throw her sword into the balance. Three years later,
Cornwallis surrendered at Yorktown. In 1783, by the formal treaty of
peace, George III acknowledged the independence of the United States.
The new nation, endowed with an imperial domain stretching from the
Atlantic Ocean to the Mississippi River, began its career among the
sovereign powers of the earth.

In the sphere of civil government, the results of the Revolution were
equally remarkable. Royal officers and royal authorities were driven
from the former dominions. All power was declared to be in the people.
All the colonies became states, each with its own constitution or plan
of government. The thirteen states were united in common bonds under the
Articles of Confederation. A republic on a large scale was instituted.
Thus there was begun an adventure in popular government such as the
world had never seen. Could it succeed or was it destined to break down
and be supplanted by a monarchy? The fate of whole continents hung upon
the answer.


=References=

J. Fiske, _The American Revolution_ (2 vols.).

H. Lodge, _Life of Washington_ (2 vols.).

W. Sumner, _The Financier and the Finances of the American Revolution_.

O. Trevelyan, _The American Revolution_ (4 vols.). A sympathetic account
by an English historian.

M.C. Tyler, _Literary History of the American Revolution_ (2 vols.).

C.H. Van Tyne, _The American Revolution_ (American Nation Series) and
_The Loyalists in the American Revolution_.


=Questions=

1. What was the non-importation agreement? By what body was it adopted?
Why was it revolutionary in character?

2. Contrast the work of the first and second Continental Congresses.

3. Why did efforts at conciliation fail?

4. Trace the growth of American independence from opinion to the sphere
of action.

5. Why is the Declaration of Independence an "immortal" document?

6. What was the effect of the Revolution on colonial governments? On
national union?

7. Describe the contest between "Patriots" and "Tories."

8. What topics are considered under "military affairs"? Discuss each in
detail.

9. Contrast the American forces with the British forces and show how the
war was won.

10. Compare the work of women in the Revolutionary War with their labors
in the World War (1917-18).

11. How was the Revolution financed?

12. Why is diplomacy important in war? Describe the diplomatic triumph
of the Revolution.

13. What was the nature of the opposition in England to the war?

14. Give the events connected with the peace settlement; the terms of
peace.


=Research Topics=

=The Spirit of America.=--Woodrow Wilson, _History of the American
People_, Vol. II, pp. 98-126.

=American Rights.=--Draw up a table showing all the principles laid down
by American leaders in (1) the Resolves of the First Continental
Congress, Macdonald, _Documentary Source Book_, pp. 162-166; (2) the
Declaration of the Causes and the Necessity of Taking Up Arms,
Macdonald, pp. 176-183; and (3) the Declaration of Independence.

=The Declaration of Independence.=--Fiske, _The American Revolution_,
Vol. I, pp. 147-197. Elson, _History of the United States_, pp. 250-254.

=Diplomacy and the French Alliance.=--Hart, _American History Told by
Contemporaries_, Vol. II, pp. 574-590. Fiske, Vol. II, pp. 1-24.
Callender, _Economic History of the United States_, pp. 159-168; Elson,
pp. 275-280.

=Biographical Studies.=--Washington, Franklin, Samuel Adams, Patrick
Henry, Thomas Jefferson--emphasizing the peculiar services of each.

=The Tories.=--Hart, _Contemporaries_, Vol. II, pp. 470-480.

=Valley Forge.=--Fiske, Vol. II, pp. 25-49.

=The Battles of the Revolution.=--Elson, pp. 235-317.

=An English View of the Revolution.=--Green, _Short History of England_,
Chap. X, Sect. 2.

=English Opinion and the Revolution.=--Trevelyan, _The American
Revolution_, Vol. III (or Part 2, Vol. II), Chaps. XXIV-XXVII.




PART III. THE UNION AND NATIONAL POLITICS




CHAPTER VII

THE FORMATION OF THE CONSTITUTION


THE PROMISE AND THE DIFFICULTIES OF AMERICA

The rise of a young republic composed of thirteen states, each governed
by officials popularly elected under constitutions drafted by "the plain
people," was the most significant feature of the eighteenth century. The
majority of the patriots whose labors and sacrifices had made this
possible naturally looked upon their work and pronounced it good. Those
Americans, however, who peered beneath the surface of things, saw that
the Declaration of Independence, even if splendidly phrased, and paper
constitutions, drawn by finest enthusiasm "uninstructed by experience,"
could not alone make the republic great and prosperous or even free. All
around them they saw chaos in finance and in industry and perils for the
immediate future.

=The Weakness of the Articles of Confederation.=--The government under
the Articles of Confederation had neither the strength nor the resources
necessary to cope with the problems of reconstruction left by the war.
The sole organ of government was a Congress composed of from two to
seven members from each state chosen as the legislature might direct and
paid by the state. In determining all questions, each state had one
vote--Delaware thus enjoying the same weight as Virginia. There was no
president to enforce the laws. Congress was given power to select a
committee of thirteen--one from each state--to act as an executive body
when it was not in session; but this device, on being tried out, proved
a failure. There was no system of national courts to which citizens and
states could appeal for the protection of their rights or through which
they could compel obedience to law. The two great powers of government,
military and financial, were withheld. Congress, it is true, could
authorize expenditures but had to rely upon the states for the payment
of contributions to meet its bills. It could also order the
establishment of an army, but it could only request the states to supply
their respective quotas of soldiers. It could not lay taxes nor bring
any pressure to bear upon a single citizen in the whole country. It
could act only through the medium of the state governments.

=Financial and Commercial Disorders.=--In the field of public finance,
the disorders were pronounced. The huge debt incurred during the war was
still outstanding. Congress was unable to pay either the interest or the
principal. Public creditors were in despair, as the market value of
their bonds sank to twenty-five or even ten cents on the dollar. The
current bills of Congress were unpaid. As some one complained, there was
not enough money in the treasury to buy pen and ink with which to record
the transactions of the shadow legislature. The currency was in utter
chaos. Millions of dollars in notes issued by Congress had become mere
trash worth a cent or two on the dollar. There was no other expression
of contempt so forceful as the popular saying: "not worth a
Continental." To make matters worse, several of the states were pouring
new streams of paper money from the press. Almost the only good money in
circulation consisted of English, French, and Spanish coins, and the
public was even defrauded by them because money changers were busy
clipping and filing away the metal. Foreign commerce was unsettled. The
entire British system of trade discrimination was turned against the
Americans, and Congress, having no power to regulate foreign commerce,
was unable to retaliate or to negotiate treaties which it could enforce.
Domestic commerce was impeded by the jealousies of the states, which
erected tariff barriers against their neighbors. The condition of the
currency made the exchange of money and goods extremely difficult, and,
as if to increase the confusion, backward states enacted laws hindering
the prompt collection of debts within their borders--an evil which
nothing but a national system of courts could cure.

=Congress in Disrepute.=--With treaties set at naught by the states, the
laws unenforced, the treasury empty, and the public credit gone, the
Congress of the United States fell into utter disrepute. It called upon
the states to pay their quotas of money into the treasury, only to be
treated with contempt. Even its own members looked upon it as a solemn
futility. Some of the ablest men refused to accept election to it, and
many who did take the doubtful honor failed to attend the sessions.
Again and again it was impossible to secure a quorum for the transaction
of business.

=Troubles of the State Governments.=--The state governments, free to
pursue their own course with no interference from without, had almost as
many difficulties as the Congress. They too were loaded with
revolutionary debts calling for heavy taxes upon an already restive
population. Oppressed by their financial burdens and discouraged by the
fall in prices which followed the return of peace, the farmers of
several states joined in a concerted effort and compelled their
legislatures to issue large sums of paper money. The currency fell in
value, but nevertheless it was forced on unwilling creditors to square
old accounts.

In every part of the country legislative action fluctuated violently.
Laws were made one year only to be repealed the next and reenacted the
third year. Lands were sold by one legislature and the sales were
canceled by its successor. Uncertainty and distrust were the natural
consequences. Men of substance longed for some power that would forbid
states to issue bills of credit, to make paper money legal tender in
payment of debts, or to impair the obligation of contracts. Men heavily
in debt, on the other hand, urged even more drastic action against
creditors.

So great did the discontent of the farmers in New Hampshire become in
1786 that a mob surrounded the legislature, demanding a repeal of the
taxes and the issuance of paper money. It was with difficulty that an
armed rebellion was avoided. In Massachusetts the malcontents, under the
leadership of Daniel Shays, a captain in the Revolutionary army,
organized that same year open resistance to the government of the state.
Shays and his followers protested against the conduct of creditors in
foreclosing mortgages upon the debt-burdened farmers, against the
lawyers for increasing the costs of legal proceedings, against the
senate of the state the members of which were apportioned among the
towns on the basis of the amount of taxes paid, against heavy taxes, and
against the refusal of the legislature to issue paper money. They seized
the towns of Worcester and Springfield and broke up the courts of
justice. All through the western part of the state the revolt spread,
sending a shock of alarm to every center and section of the young
republic. Only by the most vigorous action was Governor Bowdoin able to
quell the uprising; and when that task was accomplished, the state
government did not dare to execute any of the prisoners because they had
so many sympathizers. Moreover, Bowdoin and several members of the
legislature who had been most zealous in their attacks on the insurgents
were defeated at the ensuing election. The need of national assistance
for state governments in times of domestic violence was everywhere
emphasized by men who were opposed to revolutionary acts.

=Alarm over Dangers to the Republic.=--Leading American citizens,
watching the drift of affairs, were slowly driven to the conclusion that
the new ship of state so proudly launched a few years before was
careening into anarchy. "The facts of our peace and independence," wrote
a friend of Washington, "do not at present wear so promising an
appearance as I had fondly painted in my mind. The prejudices,
jealousies, and turbulence of the people at times almost stagger my
confidence in our political establishments; and almost occasion me to
think that they will show themselves unworthy of the noble prize for
which we have contended."

Washington himself was profoundly discouraged. On hearing of Shays's
rebellion, he exclaimed: "What, gracious God, is man that there should
be such inconsistency and perfidiousness in his conduct! It is but the
other day that we were shedding our blood to obtain the constitutions
under which we now live--constitutions of our own choice and making--and
now we are unsheathing our sword to overturn them." The same year he
burst out in a lament over rumors of restoring royal government. "I am
told that even respectable characters speak of a monarchical government
without horror. From thinking proceeds speaking. Hence to acting is
often but a single step. But how irresistible and tremendous! What a
triumph for our enemies to verify their predictions! What a triumph for
the advocates of despotism to find that we are incapable of governing
ourselves!"

=Congress Attempts Some Reforms.=--The Congress was not indifferent to
the events that disturbed Washington. On the contrary it put forth many
efforts to check tendencies so dangerous to finance, commerce,
industries, and the Confederation itself. In 1781, even before the
treaty of peace was signed, the Congress, having found out how futile
were its taxing powers, carried a resolution of amendment to the
Articles of Confederation, authorizing the levy of a moderate duty on
imports. Yet this mild measure was rejected by the states. Two years
later the Congress prepared another amendment sanctioning the levy of
duties on imports, to be collected this time by state officers and
applied to the payment of the public debt. This more limited proposal,
designed to save public credit, likewise failed. In 1786, the Congress
made a third appeal to the states for help, declaring that they had been
so irregular and so negligent in paying their quotas that further
reliance upon that mode of raising revenues was dishonorable and
dangerous.


THE CALLING OF A CONSTITUTIONAL CONVENTION

=Hamilton and Washington Urge Reform.=--The attempts at reform by the
Congress were accompanied by demand for, both within and without that
body, a convention to frame a new plan of government. In 1780, the
youthful Alexander Hamilton, realizing the weakness of the Articles, so
widely discussed, proposed a general convention for the purpose of
drafting a new constitution on entirely different principles. With
tireless energy he strove to bring his countrymen to his view.
Washington, agreeing with him on every point, declared, in a circular
letter to the governors, that the duration of the union would be short
unless there was lodged somewhere a supreme power "to regulate and
govern the general concerns of the confederated republic." The governor
of Massachusetts, disturbed by the growth of discontent all about him,
suggested to the state legislature in 1785 the advisability of a
national convention to enlarge the powers of the Congress. The
legislature approved the plan, but did not press it to a conclusion.

[Illustration: ALEXANDER HAMILTON]

=The Annapolis Convention.=--Action finally came from the South. The
Virginia legislature, taking things into its own hands, called a
conference of delegates at Annapolis to consider matters of taxation and
commerce. When the convention assembled in 1786, it was found that only
five states had taken the trouble to send representatives. The leaders
were deeply discouraged, but the resourceful Hamilton, a delegate from
New York, turned the affair to good account. He secured the adoption of
a resolution, calling upon the Congress itself to summon another
convention, to meet at Philadelphia.

=A National Convention Called (1787).=--The Congress, as tardy as ever,
at last decided in February, 1787, to issue the call. Fearing drastic
changes, however, it restricted the convention to "the sole and express
purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation." Jealous of its own
powers, it added that any alterations proposed should be referred to the
Congress and the states for their approval.

Every state in the union, except Rhode Island, responded to this call.
Indeed some of the states, having the Annapolis resolution before them,
had already anticipated the Congress by selecting delegates before the
formal summons came. Thus, by the persistence of governors,
legislatures, and private citizens, there was brought about the
long-desired national convention. In May, 1787, it assembled in
Philadelphia.

=The Eminent Men of the Convention.=--On the roll of that memorable
convention were fifty-five men, at least half of whom were acknowledged
to be among the foremost statesmen and thinkers in America. Every field
of statecraft was represented by them: war and practical management in
Washington, who was chosen president of the convention; diplomacy in
Franklin, now old and full of honor in his own land as well as abroad;
finance in Alexander Hamilton and Robert Morris; law in James Wilson of
Pennsylvania; the philosophy of government in James Madison, called the
"father of the Constitution." They were not theorists but practical men,
rich in political experience and endowed with deep insight into the
springs of human action. Three of them had served in the Stamp Act
Congress: Dickinson of Delaware, William Samuel Johnson of Connecticut,
and John Rutledge of South Carolina. Eight had been signers of the
Declaration of Independence: Read of Delaware, Sherman of Connecticut,
Wythe of Virginia, Gerry of Massachusetts, Franklin, Robert Morris,
George Clymer, and James Wilson of Pennsylvania. All but twelve had at
some time served in the Continental Congress and eighteen were members
of that body in the spring of 1787. Washington, Hamilton, Mifflin, and
Charles Pinckney had been officers in the Revolutionary army. Seven of
the delegates had gained political experience as governors of states.
"The convention as a whole," according to the historian Hildreth,
"represented in a marked manner the talent, intelligence, and
especially the conservative sentiment of the country."


THE FRAMING OF THE CONSTITUTION

=Problems Involved.=--The great problems before the convention were nine
in number: (1) Shall the Articles of Confederation be revised or a new
system of government constructed? (2) Shall the government be founded on
states equal in power as under the Articles or on the broader and deeper
foundation of population? (3) What direct share shall the people have in
the election of national officers? (4) What shall be the qualifications
for the suffrage? (5) How shall the conflicting interests of the
commercial and the planting states be balanced so as to safeguard the
essential rights of each? (6) What shall be the form of the new
government? (7) What powers shall be conferred on it? (8) How shall the
state legislatures be restrained from their attacks on property rights
such as the issuance of paper money? (9) Shall the approval of all the
states be necessary, as under the Articles, for the adoption and
amendment of the Constitution?

=Revision of the Articles or a New Government?=--The moment the first
problem was raised, representatives of the small states, led by William
Paterson of New Jersey, were on their feet. They feared that, if the
Articles were overthrown, the equality and rights of the states would be
put in jeopardy. Their protest was therefore vigorous. They cited the
call issued by the Congress in summoning the convention which
specifically stated that they were assembled for "the sole and express
purpose of revising the Articles of Confederation." They cited also
their instructions from their state legislatures, which authorized them
to "revise and amend" the existing scheme of government, not to make a
revolution in it. To depart from the authorization laid down by the
Congress and the legislatures would be to exceed their powers, they
argued, and to betray the trust reposed in them by their countrymen.

To their contentions, Randolph of Virginia replied: "When the salvation
of the republic is at stake, it would be treason to our trust not to
propose what we find necessary." Hamilton, reminding the delegates that
their work was still subject to the approval of the states, frankly said
that on the point of their powers he had no scruples. With the issue
clear, the convention cast aside the Articles as if they did not exist
and proceeded to the work of drawing up a new constitution, "laying its
foundations on such principles and organizing its powers in such form"
as to the delegates seemed "most likely to affect their safety and
happiness."

=A Government Founded on States or on People?--The
Compromise.=--Defeated in their attempt to limit the convention to a
mere revision of the Articles, the spokesmen of the smaller states
redoubled their efforts to preserve the equality of the states. The
signal for a radical departure from the Articles on this point was given
early in the sessions when Randolph presented "the Virginia plan." He
proposed that the new national legislature consist of two houses, the
members of which were to be apportioned among the states according to
their wealth or free white population, as the convention might decide.
This plan was vehemently challenged. Paterson of New Jersey flatly
avowed that neither he nor his state would ever bow to such tyranny. As
an alternative, he presented "the New Jersey plan" calling for a
national legislature of one house representing states as such, not
wealth or people--a legislature in which all states, large or small,
would have equal voice. Wilson of Pennsylvania, on behalf of the more
populous states, took up the gauntlet which Paterson had thrown down. It
was absurd, he urged, for 180,000 men in one state to have the same
weight in national counsels as 750,000 men in another state. "The
gentleman from New Jersey," he said, "is candid. He declares his opinion
boldly.... I will be equally candid.... I will never confederate on his
principles." So the bitter controversy ran on through many exciting
sessions.

Greek had met Greek. The convention was hopelessly deadlocked and on the
verge of dissolution, "scarce held together by the strength of a hair,"
as one of the delegates remarked. A crash was averted only by a
compromise. Instead of a Congress of one house as provided by the
Articles, the convention agreed upon a legislature of two houses. In the
Senate, the aspirations of the small states were to be satisfied, for
each state was given two members in that body. In the formation of the
House of Representatives, the larger states were placated, for it was
agreed that the members of that chamber were to be apportioned among the
states on the basis of population, counting three-fifths of the slaves.

=The Question of Popular Election.=--The method of selecting federal
officers and members of Congress also produced an acrimonious debate
which revealed how deep-seated was the distrust of the capacity of the
people to govern themselves. Few there were who believed that no branch
of the government should be elected directly by the voters; still fewer
were there, however, who desired to see all branches so chosen. One or
two even expressed a desire for a monarchy. The dangers of democracy
were stressed by Gerry of Massachusetts: "All the evils we experience
flow from an excess of democracy. The people do not want virtue but are
the dupes of pretended patriots.... I have been too republican
heretofore but have been taught by experience the danger of a leveling
spirit." To the "democratic licentiousness of the state legislatures,"
Randolph sought to oppose a "firm senate." To check the excesses of
popular government Charles Pinckney of South Carolina declared that no
one should be elected President who was not worth $100,000 and that high
property qualifications should be placed on members of Congress and
judges. Other members of the convention were stoutly opposed to such
"high-toned notions of government." Franklin and Wilson, both from
Pennsylvania, vigorously championed popular election; while men like
Madison insisted that at least one part of the government should rest on
the broad foundation of the people.

Out of this clash of opinion also came compromise. One branch, the House
of Representatives, it was agreed, was to be elected directly by the
voters, while the Senators were to be elected indirectly by the state
legislatures. The President was to be chosen by electors selected as the
legislatures of the states might determine, and the judges of the
federal courts, supreme and inferior, by the President and the Senate.

=The Question of the Suffrage.=--The battle over the suffrage was sharp
but brief. Gouverneur Morris proposed that only land owners should be
permitted to vote. Madison replied that the state legislatures, which
had made so much trouble with radical laws, were elected by freeholders.
After the debate, the delegates, unable to agree on any property
limitations on the suffrage, decided that the House of Representatives
should be elected by voters having the "qualifications requisite for
electors of the most numerous branch of the state legislature." Thus
they accepted the suffrage provisions of the states.

=The Balance between the Planting and the Commercial States.=--After the
debates had gone on for a few weeks, Madison came to the conclusion that
the real division in the convention was not between the large and the
small states but between the planting section founded on slave labor and
the commercial North. Thus he anticipated by nearly three-quarters of a
century "the irrepressible conflict." The planting states had neither
the free white population nor the wealth of the North. There were,
counting Delaware, six of them as against seven commercial states.
Dependent for their prosperity mainly upon the sale of tobacco, rice,
and other staples abroad, they feared that Congress might impose
restraints upon their enterprise. Being weaker in numbers, they were
afraid that the majority might lay an unfair burden of taxes upon them.

_Representation and Taxation._--The Southern members of the convention
were therefore very anxious to secure for their section the largest
possible representation in Congress, and at the same time to restrain
the taxing power of that body. Two devices were thought adapted to these
ends. One was to count the slaves as people when apportioning
representatives among the states according to their respective
populations; the other was to provide that direct taxes should be
apportioned among the states, in proportion not to their wealth but to
the number of their free white inhabitants. For obvious reasons the
Northern delegates objected to these proposals. Once more a compromise
proved to be the solution. It was agreed that not all the slaves but
three-fifths of them should be counted for both purposes--representation
and direct taxation.

_Commerce and the Slave Trade._--Southern interests were also involved
in the project to confer upon Congress the power to regulate interstate
and foreign commerce. To the manufacturing and trading states this was
essential. It would prevent interstate tariffs and trade jealousies; it
would enable Congress to protect American manufactures and to break
down, by appropriate retaliations, foreign discriminations against
American commerce. To the South the proposal was menacing because
tariffs might interfere with the free exchange of the produce of
plantations in European markets, and navigation acts might confine the
carrying trade to American, that is Northern, ships. The importation of
slaves, moreover, it was feared might be heavily taxed or immediately
prohibited altogether.

The result of this and related controversies was a debate on the merits
of slavery. Gouverneur Morris delivered his mind and heart on that
subject, denouncing slavery as a nefarious institution and the curse of
heaven on the states in which it prevailed. Mason of Virginia, a
slaveholder himself, was hardly less outspoken, saying: "Slavery
discourages arts and manufactures. The poor despise labor when performed
by slaves. They prevent the migration of whites who really strengthen
and enrich a country."

The system, however, had its defenders. Representatives from South
Carolina argued that their entire economic life rested on slave labor
and that the high death rate in the rice swamps made continuous
importation necessary. Ellsworth of Connecticut took the ground that
the convention should not meddle with slavery. "The morality or wisdom
of slavery," he said, "are considerations belonging to the states. What
enriches a part enriches the whole." To the future he turned an
untroubled face: "As population increases, poor laborers will be so
plenty as to render slaves useless. Slavery in time will not be a speck
in our country." Virginia and North Carolina, already overstocked with
slaves, favored prohibiting the traffic in them; but South Carolina was
adamant. She must have fresh supplies of slaves or she would not
federate.

So it was agreed that, while Congress might regulate foreign trade by
majority vote, the importation of slaves should not be forbidden before
the lapse of twenty years, and that any import tax should not exceed $10
a head. At the same time, in connection with the regulation of foreign
trade, it was stipulated that a two-thirds vote in the Senate should be
necessary in the ratification of treaties. A further concession to the
South was made in the provision for the return of runaway slaves--a
provision also useful in the North, where indentured servants were about
as troublesome as slaves in escaping from their masters.

=The Form of the Government.=--As to the details of the frame of
government and the grand principles involved, the opinion of the
convention ebbed and flowed, decisions being taken in the heat of
debate, only to be revoked and taken again.

_The Executive._--There was general agreement that there should be an
executive branch; for reliance upon Congress to enforce its own laws and
treaties had been a broken reed. On the character and functions of the
executive, however, there were many views. The New Jersey plan called
for a council selected by the Congress; the Virginia plan provided that
the executive branch should be chosen by the Congress but did not state
whether it should be composed of one or several persons. On this matter
the convention voted first one way and then another; finally it agreed
on a single executive chosen indirectly by electors selected as the
state legislatures might decide, serving for four years, subject to
impeachment, and endowed with regal powers in the command of the army
and the navy and in the enforcement of the laws.

_The Legislative Branch--Congress._--After the convention had made the
great compromise between the large and small commonwealths by giving
representation to states in the Senate and to population in the House,
the question of methods of election had to be decided. As to the House
of Representatives it was readily agreed that the members should be
elected by direct popular vote. There was also easy agreement on the
proposition that a strong Senate was needed to check the "turbulence" of
the lower house. Four devices were finally selected to accomplish this
purpose. In the first place, the Senators were not to be chosen directly
by the voters but by the legislatures of the states, thus removing their
election one degree from the populace. In the second place, their term
was fixed at six years instead of two, as in the case of the House. In
the third place, provision was made for continuity by having only
one-third of the members go out at a time while two-thirds remained in
service. Finally, it was provided that Senators must be at least thirty
years old while Representatives need be only twenty-five.

_The Judiciary._--The need for federal courts to carry out the law was
hardly open to debate. The feebleness of the Articles of Confederation
was, in a large measure, attributed to the want of a judiciary to hold
states and individuals in obedience to the laws and treaties of the
union. Nevertheless on this point the advocates of states' rights were
extremely sensitive. They looked with distrust upon judges appointed at
the national capital and emancipated from local interests and
traditions; they remembered with what insistence they had claimed
against Britain the right of local trial by jury and with what
consternation they had viewed the proposal to make colonial judges
independent of the assemblies in the matter of their salaries.
Reluctantly they yielded to the demand for federal courts, consenting at
first only to a supreme court to review cases heard in lower state
courts and finally to such additional inferior courts as Congress might
deem necessary.

_The System of Checks and Balances._--It is thus apparent that the
framers of the Constitution, in shaping the form of government, arranged
for a distribution of power among three branches, executive,
legislative, and judicial. Strictly speaking we might say four branches,
for the legislature, or Congress, was composed of two houses, elected in
different ways, and one of them, the Senate, was made a check on the
President through its power of ratifying treaties and appointments. "The
accumulation of all powers, legislative, executive, and judicial, in the
same hands," wrote Madison, "whether of one, a few, or many, and whether
hereditary, self-appointed, or elective, may justly be pronounced the
very definition of tyranny." The devices which the convention adopted to
prevent such a centralization of authority were exceedingly ingenious
and well calculated to accomplish the purposes of the authors.

The legislature consisted of two houses, the members of which were to be
apportioned on a different basis, elected in different ways, and to
serve for different terms. A veto on all its acts was vested in a
President elected in a manner not employed in the choice of either
branch of the legislature, serving for four years, and subject to
removal only by the difficult process of impeachment. After a law had
run the gantlet of both houses and the executive, it was subject to
interpretation and annulment by the judiciary, appointed by the
President with the consent of the Senate and serving for life. Thus it
was made almost impossible for any political party to get possession of
all branches of the government at a single popular election. As Hamilton
remarked, the friends of good government considered "every institution
calculated to restrain the excess of law making and to keep things in
the same state in which they happen to be at any given period as more
likely to do good than harm."

=The Powers of the Federal Government.=--On the question of the powers
to be conferred upon the new government there was less occasion for a
serious dispute. Even the delegates from the small states agreed with
those from Massachusetts, Pennsylvania, and Virginia that new powers
should be added to those intrusted to Congress by the Articles of
Confederation. The New Jersey plan as well as the Virginia plan
recognized this fact. Some of the delegates, like Hamilton and Madison,
even proposed to give Congress a general legislative authority covering
all national matters; but others, frightened by the specter of
nationalism, insisted on specifying each power to be conferred and
finally carried the day.

_Taxation and Commerce._--There were none bold enough to dissent from
the proposition that revenue must be provided to pay current expenses
and discharge the public debt. When once the dispute over the
apportionment of direct taxes among the slave states was settled, it was
an easy matter to decide that Congress should have power to lay and
collect taxes, duties, imposts, and excises. In this way the national
government was freed from dependence upon stubborn and tardy
legislatures and enabled to collect funds directly from citizens. There
were likewise none bold enough to contend that the anarchy of state
tariffs and trade discriminations should be longer endured. When the
fears of the planting states were allayed and the "bargain" over the
importation of slaves was reached, the convention vested in Congress the
power to regulate foreign and interstate commerce.

_National Defense._--The necessity for national defense was realized,
though the fear of huge military establishments was equally present. The
old practice of relying on quotas furnished by the state legislatures
was completely discredited. As in the case of taxes a direct authority
over citizens was demanded. Congress was therefore given full power to
raise and support armies and a navy. It could employ the state militia
when desirable; but it could at the same time maintain a regular army
and call directly upon all able-bodied males if the nature of a crisis
was thought to require it.

_The "Necessary and Proper" Clause._--To the specified power vested in
Congress by the Constitution, the advocates of a strong national
government added a general clause authorizing it to make all laws
"necessary and proper" for carrying into effect any and all of the
enumerated powers. This clause, interpreted by that master mind, Chief
Justice Marshall, was later construed to confer powers as wide as the
requirements of a vast country spanning a continent and taking its place
among the mighty nations of the earth.

=Restraints on the States.=--Framing a government and endowing it with
large powers were by no means the sole concern of the convention. Its
very existence had been due quite as much to the conduct of the state
legislatures as to the futilities of a paralyzed Continental Congress.
In every state, explains Marshall in his _Life of Washington_, there was
a party of men who had "marked out for themselves a more indulgent
course. Viewing with extreme tenderness the case of the debtor, their
efforts were unceasingly directed to his relief. To exact a faithful
compliance with contracts was, in their opinion, a harsh measure which
the people could not bear. They were uniformly in favor of relaxing the
administration of justice, of affording facilities for the payment of
debts, or of suspending their collection, and remitting taxes."

The legislatures under the dominance of these men had enacted paper
money laws enabling debtors to discharge their obligations more easily.
The convention put an end to such practices by providing that no state
should emit bills of credit or make anything but gold or silver legal
tender in the payment of debts. The state legislatures had enacted laws
allowing men to pay their debts by turning over to creditors land or
personal property; they had repealed the charter of an endowed college
and taken the management from the hands of the lawful trustees; and they
had otherwise interfered with the enforcement of private agreements. The
convention, taking notice of such matters, inserted a clause forbidding
states "to impair the obligation of contracts." The more venturous of
the radicals had in Massachusetts raised the standard of revolt against
the authorities of the state. The convention answered by a brief
sentence to the effect that the President of the United States, to be
equipped with a regular army, would send troops to suppress domestic
insurrections whenever called upon by the legislature or, if it was not
in session, by the governor of the state. To make sure that the
restrictions on the states would not be dead letters, the federal
Constitution, laws, and treaties were made the supreme law of the land,
to be enforced whenever necessary by a national judiciary and executive
against violations on the part of any state authorities.

=Provisions for Ratification and Amendment.=--When the frame of
government had been determined, the powers to be vested in it had been
enumerated, and the restrictions upon the states had been written into
the bond, there remained three final questions. How shall the
Constitution be ratified? What number of states shall be necessary to
put it into effect? How shall it be amended in the future?

On the first point, the mandate under which the convention was sitting
seemed positive. The Articles of Confederation were still in effect.
They provided that amendments could be made only by unanimous adoption
in Congress and the approval of all the states. As if to give force to
this provision of law, the call for the convention had expressly stated
that all alterations and revisions should be reported to Congress for
adoption or rejection, Congress itself to transmit the document
thereafter to the states for their review.

To have observed the strict letter of the law would have defeated the
purposes of the delegates, because Congress and the state legislatures
were openly hostile to such drastic changes as had been made. Unanimous
ratification, as events proved, would have been impossible. Therefore
the delegates decided that the Constitution should be sent to Congress
with the recommendation that it, in turn, transmit the document, not to
the state legislatures, but to conventions held in the states for the
special object of deciding upon ratification. This process was followed.
It was their belief that special conventions would be more friendly than
the state legislatures.

The convention was equally positive in dealing with the problem of the
number of states necessary to establish the new Constitution. Attempts
to change the Articles had failed because amendment required the
approval of every state and there was always at least one recalcitrant
member of the union. The opposition to a new Constitution was
undoubtedly formidable. Rhode Island had even refused to take part in
framing it, and her hostility was deep and open. So the convention cast
aside the provision of the Articles of Confederation which required
unanimous approval for any change in the plan of government; it decreed
that the new Constitution should go into effect when ratified by nine
states.

In providing for future changes in the Constitution itself the
convention also thrust aside the old rule of unanimous approval, and
decided that an amendment could be made on a two-thirds vote in both
houses of Congress and ratification by three-fourths of the states. This
change was of profound significance. Every state agreed to be bound in
the future by amendments duly adopted even in case it did not approve
them itself. America in this way set out upon the high road that led
from a league of states to a nation.


THE STRUGGLE OVER RATIFICATION

On September 17, 1787, the Constitution, having been finally drafted in
clear and simple language, a model to all makers of fundamental law, was
adopted. The convention, after nearly four months of debate in secret
session, flung open the doors and presented to the Americans the
finished plan for the new government. Then the great debate passed to
the people.

=The Opposition.=--Storms of criticism at once descended upon the
Constitution. "Fraudulent usurpation!" exclaimed Gerry, who had refused
to sign it. "A monster" out of the "thick veil of secrecy," declaimed a
Pennsylvania newspaper. "An iron-handed despotism will be the result,"
protested a third. "We, 'the low-born,'" sarcastically wrote a fourth,
"will now admit the 'six hundred well-born' immediately to establish
this most noble, most excellent, and truly divine constitution." The
President will become a king; Congress will be as tyrannical as
Parliament in the old days; the states will be swallowed up; the rights
of the people will be trampled upon; the poor man's justice will be lost
in the endless delays of the federal courts--such was the strain of the
protests against ratification.

[Illustration: AN ADVERTISEMENT OF _The Federalist_]

=Defense of the Constitution.=--Moved by the tempest of opposition,
Hamilton, Madison, and Jay took up their pens in defense of the
Constitution. In a series of newspaper articles they discussed and
expounded with eloquence, learning, and dignity every important clause
and provision of the proposed plan. These papers, afterwards collected
and published in a volume known as _The Federalist_, form the finest
textbook on the Constitution that has ever been printed. It takes its
place, moreover, among the wisest and weightiest treatises on government
ever written in any language in any time. Other men, not so gifted, were
no less earnest in their support of ratification. In private
correspondence, editorials, pamphlets, and letters to the newspapers,
they urged their countrymen to forget their partisanship and accept a
Constitution which, in spite of any defects great or small, was the
only guarantee against dissolution and warfare at home and dishonor and
weakness abroad.

[Illustration: CELEBRATING THE RATIFICATION]

=The Action of the State Conventions.=--Before the end of the year,
1787, three states had ratified the Constitution: Delaware and New
Jersey unanimously and Pennsylvania after a short, though savage,
contest. Connecticut and Georgia followed early the next year. Then came
the battle royal in Massachusetts, ending in ratification in February by
the narrow margin of 187 votes to 168. In the spring came the news that
Maryland and South Carolina were "under the new roof." On June 21, New
Hampshire, where the sentiment was at first strong enough to defeat the
Constitution, joined the new republic, influenced by the favorable
decision in Massachusetts. Swift couriers were sent to carry the news to
New York and Virginia, where the question of ratification was still
undecided. Nine states had accepted it and were united, whether more saw
fit to join or not.

Meanwhile, however, Virginia, after a long and searching debate, had
given her approval by a narrow margin, leaving New York as the next seat
of anxiety. In that state the popular vote for the delegates to the
convention had been clearly and heavily against ratification. Events
finally demonstrated the futility of resistance, and Hamilton by good
judgment and masterly arguments was at last able to marshal a majority
of thirty to twenty-seven votes in favor of ratification.

The great contest was over. All the states, except North Carolina and
Rhode Island, had ratified. "The sloop Anarchy," wrote an ebullient
journalist, "when last heard from was ashore on Union rocks."

=The First Election.=--In the autumn of 1788, elections were held to
fill the places in the new government. Public opinion was overwhelmingly
in favor of Washington as the first President. Yielding to the
importunities of friends, he accepted the post in the spirit of public
service. On April 30, 1789, he took the oath of office at Federal Hall
in New York City. "Long live George Washington, President of the United
States!" cried Chancellor Livingston as soon as the General had kissed
the Bible. The cry was caught by the assembled multitude and given back.
A new experiment in popular government was launched.


=References=

M. Farrand, _The Framing of the Constitution of the United States_.

P.L. Ford, _Essays on the Constitution of the United States_.

_The Federalist_ (in many editions).

G. Hunt, _Life of James Madison_.

A.C. McLaughlin, _The Confederation and the Constitution_ (American
Nation Series).


=Questions=

1. Account for the failure of the Articles of Confederation.

2. Explain the domestic difficulties of the individual states.

3. Why did efforts at reform by the Congress come to naught?

4. Narrate the events leading up to the constitutional convention.

5. Who were some of the leading men in the convention? What had been
their previous training?

6. State the great problems before the convention.

7. In what respects were the planting and commercial states opposed?
What compromises were reached?

8. Show how the "check and balance" system is embodied in our form of
government.

9. How did the powers conferred upon the federal government help cure
the defects of the Articles of Confederation?

10. In what way did the provisions for ratifying and amending the
Constitution depart from the old system?

11. What was the nature of the conflict over ratification?


=Research Topics=

=English Treatment of American Commerce.=--Callender, _Economic History
of the United States_, pp. 210-220.

=Financial Condition of the United States.=--Fiske, _Critical Period of
American History_, pp. 163-186.

=Disordered Commerce.=--Fiske, pp. 134-162.

=Selfish Conduct of the States.=--Callender, pp. 185-191.

=The Failure of the Confederation.=--Elson, _History of the United
States_, pp. 318-326.

=Formation of the Constitution.=--(1) The plans before the convention,
Fiske, pp. 236-249; (2) the great compromise, Fiske, pp. 250-255; (3)
slavery and the convention, Fiske, pp. 256-266; and (4) the frame of
government, Fiske, pp. 275-301; Elson, pp. 328-334.

=Biographical Studies.=--Look up the history and services of the leaders
in the convention in any good encyclopedia.

=Ratification of the Constitution.=--Hart, _History Told by
Contemporaries_, Vol. III, pp. 233-254; Elson, pp. 334-340.

=Source Study.=--Compare the Constitution and Articles of Confederation
under the following heads: (1) frame of government; (2) powers of
Congress; (3) limits on states; and (4) methods of amendment. Every line
of the Constitution should be read and re-read in the light of the
historical circumstances set forth in this chapter.




CHAPTER VIII

THE CLASH OF POLITICAL PARTIES


THE MEN AND MEASURES OF THE NEW GOVERNMENT

=Friends of the Constitution in Power.=--In the first Congress that
assembled after the adoption of the Constitution, there were eleven
Senators, led by Robert Morris, the financier, who had been delegates to
the national convention. Several members of the House of
Representatives, headed by James Madison, had also been at Philadelphia
in 1787. In making his appointments, Washington strengthened the new
system of government still further by a judicious selection of
officials. He chose as Secretary of the Treasury, Alexander Hamilton,
who had been the most zealous for its success; General Knox, head of the
War Department, and Edmund Randolph, the Attorney-General, were likewise
conspicuous friends of the experiment. Every member of the federal
judiciary whom Washington appointed, from the Chief Justice, John Jay,
down to the justices of the district courts, had favored the
ratification of the Constitution; and a majority of them had served as
members of the national convention that framed the document or of the
state ratifying conventions. Only one man of influence in the new
government, Thomas Jefferson, the Secretary of State, was reckoned as a
doubter in the house of the faithful. He had expressed opinions both for
and against the Constitution; but he had been out of the country acting
as the minister at Paris when the Constitution was drafted and ratified.

=An Opposition to Conciliate.=--The inauguration of Washington amid the
plaudits of his countrymen did not set at rest all the political turmoil
which had been aroused by the angry contest over ratification. "The
interesting nature of the question," wrote John Marshall, "the equality
of the parties, the animation produced inevitably by ardent debate had a
necessary tendency to embitter the dispositions of the vanquished and to
fix more deeply in many bosoms their prejudices against a plan of
government in opposition to which all their passions were enlisted." The
leaders gathered around Washington were well aware of the excited state
of the country. They saw Rhode Island and North Carolina still outside
of the union.[1] They knew by what small margins the Constitution had
been approved in the great states of Massachusetts, Virginia, and New
York. They were equally aware that a majority of the state conventions,
in yielding reluctant approval to the Constitution, had drawn a number
of amendments for immediate submission to the states.

=The First Amendments--a Bill of Rights.=--To meet the opposition,
Madison proposed, and the first Congress adopted, a series of amendments
to the Constitution. Ten of them were soon ratified and became in 1791 a
part of the law of the land. These amendments provided, among other
things, that Congress could make no law respecting the establishment of
religion, abridging the freedom of speech or of the press or the right
of the people peaceably to assemble and petition the government for a
redress of grievances. They also guaranteed indictment by grand jury and
trial by jury for all persons charged by federal officers with serious
crimes. To reassure those who still feared that local rights might be
invaded by the federal government, the tenth amendment expressly
provided that the powers not delegated to the United States by the
Constitution, nor prohibited by it to the states, are reserved to the
states respectively or to the people. Seven years later, the eleventh
amendment was written in the same spirit as the first ten, after a
heated debate over the action of the Supreme Court in permitting a
citizen to bring a suit against "the sovereign state" of Georgia. The
new amendment was designed to protect states against the federal
judiciary by forbidding it to hear any case in which a state was sued by
a citizen.

=Funding the National Debt.=--Paper declarations of rights, however,
paid no bills. To this task Hamilton turned all his splendid genius. At
the very outset he addressed himself to the problem of the huge public
debt, daily mounting as the unpaid interest accumulated. In a _Report on
Public Credit_ under date of January 9, 1790, one of the first and
greatest of American state papers, he laid before Congress the outlines
of his plan. He proposed that the federal government should call in all
the old bonds, certificates of indebtedness, and other promises to pay
which had been issued by the Congress since the beginning of the
Revolution. These national obligations, he urged, should be put into one
consolidated debt resting on the credit of the United States; to the
holders of the old paper should be issued new bonds drawing interest at
fixed rates. This process was called "funding the debt." Such a
provision for the support of public credit, Hamilton insisted, would
satisfy creditors, restore landed property to its former value, and
furnish new resources to agriculture and commerce in the form of credit
and capital.

=Assumption and Funding of State Debts.=--Hamilton then turned to the
obligations incurred by the several states in support of the Revolution.
These debts he proposed to add to the national debt. They were to be
"assumed" by the United States government and placed on the same secure
foundation as the continental debt. This measure he defended not merely
on grounds of national honor. It would, as he foresaw, give strength to
the new national government by making all public creditors, men of
substance in their several communities, look to the federal, rather than
the state government, for the satisfaction of their claims.

=Funding at Face Value.=--On the question of the terms of consolidation,
assumption, and funding, Hamilton had a firm conviction. That millions
of dollars' worth of the continental and state bonds had passed out of
the hands of those who had originally subscribed their funds to the
support of the government or had sold supplies for the Revolutionary
army was well known. It was also a matter of common knowledge that a
very large part of these bonds had been bought by speculators at ruinous
figures--ten, twenty, and thirty cents on the dollar. Accordingly, it
had been suggested, even in very respectable quarters, that a
discrimination should be made between original holders and speculative
purchasers. Some who held this opinion urged that the speculators who
had paid nominal sums for their bonds should be reimbursed for their
outlays and the original holders paid the difference; others said that
the government should "scale the debt" by redeeming, not at full value
but at a figure reasonably above the market price. Against the
proposition Hamilton set his face like flint. He maintained that the
government was honestly bound to redeem every bond at its face value,
although the difficulty of securing revenue made necessary a lower rate
of interest on a part of the bonds and the deferring of interest on
another part.

=Funding and Assumption Carried.=--There was little difficulty in
securing the approval of both houses of Congress for the funding of the
national debt at full value. The bill for the assumption of state debts,
however, brought the sharpest division of opinions. To the Southern
members of Congress assumption was a gross violation of states' rights,
without any warrant in the Constitution and devised in the interest of
Northern speculators who, anticipating assumption and funding, had
bought up at low prices the Southern bonds and other promises to pay.
New England, on the other hand, was strongly in favor of assumption;
several representatives from that section were rash enough to threaten a
dissolution of the union if the bill was defeated. To this dispute was
added an equally bitter quarrel over the location of the national
capital, then temporarily at New York City.

[Illustration: FIRST UNITED STATES BANK AT PHILADELPHIA]

A deadlock, accompanied by the most surly feelings on both sides,
threatened the very existence of the young government. Washington and
Hamilton were thoroughly alarmed. Hearing of the extremity to which the
contest had been carried and acting on the appeal from the Secretary of
the Treasury, Jefferson intervened at this point. By skillful management
at a good dinner he brought the opposing leaders together; and thus once
more, as on many other occasions, peace was purchased and the union
saved by compromise. The bargain this time consisted of an exchange of
votes for assumption in return for votes for the capital. Enough
Southern members voted for assumption to pass the bill, and a majority
was mustered in favor of building the capital on the banks of the
Potomac, after locating it for a ten-year period at Philadelphia to
satisfy Pennsylvania members.

=The United States Bank.=--Encouraged by the success of his funding and
assumption measures, Hamilton laid before Congress a project for a great
United States Bank. He proposed that a private corporation be chartered
by Congress, authorized to raise a capital stock of $10,000,000
(three-fourths in new six per cent federal bonds and one-fourth in
specie) and empowered to issue paper currency under proper safeguards.
Many advantages, Hamilton contended, would accrue to the government from
this institution. The price of the government bonds would be increased,
thus enhancing public credit. A national currency would be created of
uniform value from one end of the land to the other. The branches of the
bank in various cities would make easy the exchange of funds so vital to
commercial transactions on a national scale. Finally, through the issue
of bank notes, the money capital available for agriculture and industry
would be increased, thus stimulating business enterprise. Jefferson
hotly attacked the bank on the ground that Congress had no power
whatever under the Constitution to charter such a private corporation.
Hamilton defended it with great cogency. Washington, after weighing all
opinions, decided in favor of the proposal. In 1791 the bill
establishing the first United States Bank for a period of twenty years
became a law.

=The Protective Tariff.=--A third part of Hamilton's program was the
protection of American industries. The first revenue act of 1789, though
designed primarily to bring money into the empty treasury, declared in
favor of the principle. The following year Washington referred to the
subject in his address to Congress. Thereupon Hamilton was instructed to
prepare recommendations for legislative action. The result, after a
delay of more than a year, was his _Report on Manufactures_, another
state paper worthy, in closeness of reasoning and keenness of
understanding, of a place beside his report on public credit. Hamilton
based his argument on the broadest national grounds: the protective
tariff would, by encouraging the building of factories, create a home
market for the produce of farms and plantations; by making the United
States independent of other countries in times of peace, it would double
its security in time of war; by making use of the labor of women and
children, it would turn to the production of goods persons otherwise
idle or only partly employed; by increasing the trade between the North
and South it would strengthen the links of union and add to political
ties those of commerce and intercourse. The revenue measure of 1792 bore
the impress of these arguments.


THE RISE OF POLITICAL PARTIES

=Dissensions over Hamilton's Measures.=--Hamilton's plans, touching
deeply as they did the resources of individuals and the interests of the
states, awakened alarm and opposition. Funding at face value, said his
critics, was a government favor to speculators; the assumption of state
debts was a deep design to undermine the state governments; Congress had
no constitutional power to create a bank; the law creating the bank
merely allowed a private corporation to make paper money and lend it at
a high rate of interest; and the tariff was a tax on land and labor for
the benefit of manufacturers.

Hamilton's reply to this bill of indictment was simple and
straightforward. Some rascally speculators had profited from the funding
of the debt at face value, but that was only an incident in the
restoration of public credit. In view of the jealousies of the states it
was a good thing to reduce their powers and pretensions. The
Constitution was not to be interpreted narrowly but in the full light of
national needs. The bank would enlarge the amount of capital so sorely
needed to start up American industries, giving markets to farmers and
planters. The tariff by creating a home market and increasing
opportunities for employment would benefit both land and labor. Out of
such wise policies firmly pursued by the government, he concluded, were
bound to come strength and prosperity for the new government at home,
credit and power abroad. This view Washington fully indorsed, adding
the weight of his great name to the inherent merits of the measures
adopted under his administration.

=The Sharpness of the Partisan Conflict.=--As a result of the clash of
opinion, the people of the country gradually divided into two parties:
Federalists and Anti-Federalists, the former led by Hamilton, the latter
by Jefferson. The strength of the Federalists lay in the cities--Boston,
Providence, Hartford, New York, Philadelphia, Charleston--among the
manufacturing, financial, and commercial groups of the population who
were eager to extend their business operations. The strength of the
Anti-Federalists lay mainly among the debt-burdened farmers who feared
the growth of what they called "a money power" and planters in all
sections who feared the dominance of commercial and manufacturing
interests. The farming and planting South, outside of the few towns,
finally presented an almost solid front against assumption, the bank,
and the tariff. The conflict between the parties grew steadily in
bitterness, despite the conciliatory and engaging manner in which
Hamilton presented his cause in his state papers and despite the
constant efforts of Washington to soften the asperity of the
contestants.

=The Leadership and Doctrines of Jefferson.=--The party dispute had not
gone far before the opponents of the administration began to look to
Jefferson as their leader. Some of Hamilton's measures he had approved,
declaring afterward that he did not at the time understand their
significance. Others, particularly the bank, he fiercely assailed. More
than once, he and Hamilton, shaking violently with anger, attacked each
other at cabinet meetings, and no