The Norwood Mystery by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. Part 7.
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Chapter 7 | The man on the top floor
Watson did not know what to think.
‘I don’t understand this, Holmes,’ he said at last. ‘I don’t understand this at all. If the thumbprint wasn’t here yesterday—’
Holmes held up a hand to stop him.
‘There are two possibilities, Watson. The first is that John McFarlane left his cell at Scotland Yard during the night, took the train to Norwood and came to Deep Dene Lodge to make a bloody thumbprint on the wall here. I do not think this is very probable, Watson, do you?’
‘Of course not, Holmes,’ said Watson.
‘Then you and I and Inspector Lestrade have the same opinion, and it was not John McFarlane who left this thumbprint.’
‘But Lestrade said that it was McFarlane’s thumbprint!’ said Watson excitedly.
‘Oh I am sure that it is McFarlane’s thumbprint,’ Holmes replied, ‘but I am also sure that it was not John McFarlane who left it here. Come, Watson.’
Dr Watson followed his friend out into the garden.
‘What are we doing, Holmes?’ he asked.
‘We’re looking,’ said Holmes, ‘we’re looking very carefully.’
Holmes stood in the garden and looked thoughtfully at the front of the house. Then he walked across the lawn and looked at the side of the house. Next Watson followed him to the back of the house and then to the other side, which looked onto the Sydenham Road. Here Holmes stood for a long time with a look of great interest on his face.
‘Good,’ he said at last, and walked quickly back to the front door, which was still open. Watson followed him inside and downstairs into the basement. Holmes looked very carefully in every room on that floor, then did the same on the ground floor. There was no furniture in many of the rooms, but Holmes looked thoughtfully at the walls and at the floor. He and Watson then went upstairs and visited all the bedrooms and the bathroom. After that they climbed to the top floor of the house, where there were three bedrooms, all empty. Holmes began to laugh. He laughed and laughed.
Watson looked at his friend, astonished.
‘Holmes, what is it?’ he asked. Are you not feeling well?’ Holmes stopped laughing at once and turned to Watson. ‘I’m feeling very well, Watson,’ he said with a strange smile. ‘Come, let us find Inspector Lestrade.’
They went downstairs and found the Inspector at his table. He was busy writing his report.
‘Are you writing your report already, Inspector?’ asked Holmes. Are you so sure that you have your murderer?’ Lestrade stopped writing and put down his pen. He did not look pleased.
‘Mr Holmes, I have shown you my proof. John McFarlane’s thumbprint proves that he killed Jonas Oldacre. I have my murderer. He is in his cell at Scotland Yard as we speak.’
‘I think, Inspector,’ said Holmes, ‘that you should speak to one more person before you finish writing your report.’
‘Who is this person?’ asked Lestrade. And where can I find him?’
‘How many policemen do you have here today, Inspector?’ Lestrade was surprised, but he answered immediately.
‘Sergeant Judd and two others.’
‘And are they all big, strong men with loud voices?’
Lestrade looked at Watson. Watson looked at Lestrade. They were both baffled.
‘They are all tall and I’m sure that they can shout very loudly if they need to,’ the inspector replied, ‘but I don’t understand—’
Holmes held up a hand.
‘You will understand, Inspector. ‘Now could you please call your men?’
It was obvious that Lestrade was not happy, but he left the room and went to look for Sergeant Judd and the others. Five minutes later Holmes and Watson found Lestrade in the hall with his men.
‘Sergeant Judd, you will find some hay in the timber yard. Could you please bring it into the house?’ asked Holmes.
Judd looked at Lestrade, who nodded. He came back a few minutes later with a bag of hay.
‘This will help us to find our man,’ said Holmes. ‘Now, Watson, do you have any matches in your pocket?’
Watson nodded.
‘Then we are ready. Follow me, please.’
The policemen followed Holmes and Watson as they climbed the stairs to the top of the house. When they arrived, Lestrade’s face was very red.
‘What are you doing, Mr Holmes?’ he asked crossly. ‘I hope that this is not a joke.’
‘You will not have to wait much longer. Inspector,’ said Holmes with a smile. ‘Could you please ask one of your men to bring some water from the bathroom?’
‘Water!’ Lestrade replied. ‘Mr Holmes, I really must . . . ‘
‘Please, Inspector.’
Lestrade thought for a long moment, but in the end sent one of his men to the bathroom for water. When he returned. Holmes opened a window and then asked Watson to light the hay with a match. The hay caught fire immediately and suddenly there was smoke everywhere.
‘Now we will find our man, Lestrade,’ said Holmes. ‘Could we all please shout “fire”? One, two, three… ‘
Holmes, Watson and the four policemen all shouted ‘fire!’ in loud voices. ‘Again!’ said Holmes. ’Fire!’ ’And again!’
‘Fire!’ This time the shout was so loud that Lestrade put his fingers in his ears. Just then a very strange thing happened: a secret door in the wall opened suddenly and a little man ran out.
‘Here’s your man, Inspector,’ said Holmes with a laugh. ‘Sergeant Judd, please put some water on the hay to put out our little fire. Thank you. Inspector, this is Mr Jonas Oldacre, the Norwood builder. I think we will learn that he also has another name – Mr Cornelius.’
Watson and the policemen looked long and hard at the little man, who was standing in front of them and shaking. He had grey eyes and white hair and was very ugly.
‘Well,’ said Lestrade at last when the fire was out. ‘Do you have nothing to say, Mr Jonas Oldacre?’
Lestrade’s face was red and angry. Oldacre looked very afraid, but he laughed excitedly.
‘It was a joke, Inspector,’ he explained. ‘No more. I never wanted to make any trouble for anybody.’
‘What?’ said Lestrade angrily. ‘You didn’t want to make any trouble? And an innocent man is in the cells at Scotland Yard as we speak!’
‘Just my little joke, Inspector,’ the builder said again.
‘Take him away, Sergeant,’ said Lestrade. ‘The man is dangerous.’
Oldacre went downstairs with Judd and the other policemen. Lestrade turned to Holmes.
‘Well, Mr Holmes, once again I have to thank you. This time I was wrong and you were right. John McFarlane is an innocent man. It’s obvious that there was no murder here.’
‘That’s right, Inspector,’ Holmes smiled, ‘but I understand your mistake. Jonas Oldacre was very clever.’
‘But Sherlock Holmes was cleverer!’ said Watson. ‘Very good work, Holmes.’
‘Thank you, Watson. Now let’s see the secret room.’
Watson and Lestrade followed Holmes into the room, which was about two metres long. It was impossible to see the door from the passage, but in the room they found some furniture, food and water, newspapers and books. Holmes picked up a newspaper.
‘This morning’s newspaper,’ he said. ‘I’m sure that Oldacre has enjoyed reading about Mr McFarlane’s arrest. And I suppose that Mrs Lexington is the person who has brought him his newspapers and his food and drink.’
‘I must speak to that woman again,’ said Lestrade. ‘I always thought she had her secrets.’
‘Perhaps she has a very big secret,’ said Holmes. ‘Perhaps she is more to Mr Oldacre than a housekeeper.’
Lestrade looked thoughtful. ‘Of course,’ he said at last. ‘That’s why she was happy to tell lies for him. She will go to prison for this, Mr Holmes.’
‘Very good,’ Holmes replied. ‘Norwood will be a better place without her.’
‘I have just one more question for you, Mr Holmes,’ said Lestrade. ‘Why did Oldacre do this? Why did he want me to arrest John McFarlane?’
Holmes gave the Inspector a long look.
‘Many years ago, Inspector,’ he explained, ‘Jonas Oldacre fell in love. He fell in love with John McFarlane’s mother. They spent some time together, but Mrs McFarlane saw that Oldacre was cruel and dangerous and she sent him away. Later she married John’s father. On the day that they married Oldacre sent her a photograph of herself with her face slashed. He was very angry and he never forgot it.’
‘I see,’ said Lestrade. ‘So that’s why you went to Blackheath.’
‘I wanted to talk to John’s parents,’ Holmes explained. ‘I couldn’t understand why Oldacre wanted to leave everything to John in his will.’
‘I’ve been very stupid,’ said Lestrade sadly.
‘Not at all,’ said Watson kindly. ‘But Sherlock Holmes has been very clever.’ Holmes himself said nothing.