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“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 had 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 £ 1,100, 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.