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ElapticAI-512

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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?