On the land side our surroundings were as sombre as on the
sea. It was a country of rolling moors, lonely and dun-coloured, with an occasional church
tower to mark the site of some old-world village. In every direction upon these moors
there were traces of some vanished race which had passed utterly away, and left as its
sole record strange monuments of stone, irregular mounds which contained the burned ashes
of the dead, and curious earthworks which hinted at prehistoric strife. The glamour and
mystery of the place, with its sinister atmosphere of forgotten nations, appealed to the
imagination of my friend, and he spent much of his time in long walks and solitary
meditations upon the moor. The ancient Cornish language had also arrested his attention,
and he had, I remember, conceived the idea that it was akin to the Chaldean, and had been
largely derived from the Phoenician traders in tin. He had received a consignment of books
upon philology and was settling down to develop this thesis when suddenly, to my sorrow
and to his unfeigned delight, we found ourselves, even in that land of dreams, plunged
into a problem  at our
very doors which was more intense, more engrossing, and infinitely more mysterious than
any of those which had driven us from London. Our simple life and peaceful, healthy
routine were violently interrupted, and we were precipitated into the midst of a series of
events which caused the utmost excitement not only in Cornwall but throughout the whole
west of England. Many of my readers may retain some recollection of what was called at the
time The Cornish Horror, though a most imperfect account of the matter reached
the London press. Now, after thirteen years, I will give the true details of this
inconceivable affair to the public.
I have said that scattered towers marked the villages which
dotted this part of Cornwall. The nearest of these was the hamlet of Tredannick Wollas,
where the cottages of a couple of hundred inhabitants clustered round an ancient,
moss-grown church. The vicar of the parish, Mr. Roundhay, was something of an
archaeologist, and as such Holmes had made his acquaintance. He was a middle-aged man,
portly and affable, with a considerable fund of local lore. At his invitation we had taken
tea at the vicarage and had come to know, also, Mr. Mortimer Tregennis, an independent
gentleman, who increased the clergymans scanty resources by taking rooms in his
large, straggling house. The vicar, being a bachelor, was glad to come to such an
arrangement, though he had little in common with his lodger, who was a thin, dark,
spectacled man, with a stoop which gave the impression of actual, physical deformity. I
remember that during our short visit we found the vicar garrulous, but his lodger
strangely reticent, a sad-faced, introspective man, sitting with averted eyes, brooding
apparently upon his own affairs.
These were the two men who entered abruptly into our little
sitting-room on Tuesday, March the 16th, shortly after our breakfast hour, as we were
smoking together, preparatory to our daily excursion upon the moors.
Mr. Holmes, said the vicar in an agitated
voice, the most extraordinary and tragic affair has occurred during the night. It is
the most unheard-of business. We can only regard it as a special Providence that you
should chance to be here at the time, for in all England you are the one man we
I glared at the intrusive vicar with no very friendly eyes;
but Holmes took his pipe from his lips and sat up in his chair like an old hound who hears
the view-halloa. He waved his hand to the sofa, and our palpitating visitor with his
agitated companion sat side by side upon it. Mr. Mortimer Tregennis was more
self-contained than the clergyman, but the twitching of his thin hands and the brightness
of his dark eyes showed that they shared a common emotion.
Shall I speak or you? he asked of the vicar.
Well, as you seem to have made the discovery, whatever
it may be, and the vicar to have had it second-hand, perhaps you had better do the
speaking, said Holmes.
I glanced at the hastily clad clergyman, with the formally
dressed lodger seated beside him, and was amused at the surprise which Holmess
simple deduction had brought to their faces.
Perhaps I had best say a few words first, said the
vicar, and then you can judge if you will listen to the details from Mr. Tregennis,
or whether we should not hasten at once to the scene of this mysterious affair. I may
explain, then, that our friend here spent last evening in the company of his two brothers,
Owen and George, and of his sister Brenda, at their house of Tredannick Wartha, which is
near the old stone cross upon the moor. He left them shortly after ten oclock,  playing cards round the
dining-room table, in excellent health and spirits. This morning, being an early riser, he
walked in that direction before breakfast and was overtaken by the carriage of Dr.
Richards, who explained that he had just been sent for on a most urgent call to Tredannick
Wartha. Mr. Mortimer Tregennis naturally went with him. When he arrived at Tredannick
Wartha he found an extraordinary state of things. His two brothers and his sister were
seated round the table exactly as he had left them, the cards still spread in front of
them and the candles burned down to their sockets. The sister lay back stone-dead in her
chair, while the two brothers sat on each side of her laughing, shouting, and singing, the
senses stricken clean out of them. All three of them, the dead woman and the two demented
men, retained upon their faces an expression of the utmost horrora convulsion of
terror which was dreadful to look upon. There was no sign of the presence of anyone in the
house, except Mrs. Porter, the old cook and housekeeper, who declared that she had slept
deeply and heard no sound during the night. Nothing had been stolen or disarranged, and
there is absolutely no explanation of what the horror can be which has frightened a woman
to death and two strong men out of their senses. There is the situation, Mr. Holmes, in a
nutshell, and if you can help us to clear it up you will have done a great work.
I had hoped that in some way I could coax my companion back
into the quiet which had been the object of our journey; but one glance at his intense
face and contracted eyebrows told me how vain was now the expectation. He sat for some
little time in silence, absorbed in the strange drama which had broken in upon our peace.
I will look into this matter, he said at last.
On the face of it, it would appear to be a case of a very exceptional nature. Have
you been there yourself, Mr. Roundhay?
No, Mr. Holmes. Mr. Tregennis brought back the account
to the vicarage, and I at once hurried over with him to consult you.
How far is it to the house where this singular tragedy
About a mile inland.
Then we shall walk over together. But before we start I
must ask you a few questions, Mr. Mortimer Tregennis.
The other had been silent all this time, but I had observed
that his more controlled excitement was even greater than the obtrusive emotion of the
clergyman. He sat with a pale, drawn face, his anxious gaze fixed upon Holmes, and his
thin hands clasped convulsively together. His pale lips quivered as he listened to the
dreadful experience which had befallen his family, and his dark eyes seemed to reflect
something of the horror of the scene.
Ask what you like, Mr. Holmes, said he eagerly.
It is a bad thing to speak of, but I will answer you the truth.
Tell me about last night.
Well, Mr. Holmes, I supped there, as the vicar has said,
and my elder brother George proposed a game of whist afterwards. We sat down about nine
oclock. It was a quarter-past ten when I moved to go. I left them all round the
table, as merry as could be.
Who let you out?
Mrs. Porter had gone to bed, so I let myself out. I shut
the hall door behind me. The window of the room in which they sat was closed, but the
blind was not drawn down. There was no change in door or window this morning, nor any
reason  to think that
any stranger had been to the house. Yet there they sat, driven clean mad with terror, and
Brenda lying dead of fright, with her head hanging over the arm of the chair. Ill
never get the sight of that room out of my mind so long as I live.
The facts, as you state them, are certainly most
remarkable, said Holmes. I take it that you have no theory yourself which can
in any way account for them?
Its devilish, Mr. Holmes, devilish! cried
Mortimer Tregennis. It is not of this world. Something has come into that room which
has dashed the light of reason from their minds. What human contrivance could do
I fear, said Holmes, that if the matter is
beyond humanity it is certainly beyond me. Yet we must exhaust all natural explanations
before we fall back upon such a theory as this. As to yourself, Mr. Tregennis, I take it
you were divided in some way from your family, since they lived together and you had rooms
That is so, Mr. Holmes, though the matter is past and
done with. We were a family of tin-miners at Redruth, but we sold out our venture to a
company, and so retired with enough to keep us. I wont deny that there was some
feeling about the division of the money and it stood between us for a time, but it was all
forgiven and forgotten, and we were the best of friends together.
Looking back at the evening which you spent together,
does anything stand out in your memory as throwing any possible light upon the tragedy?
Think carefully, Mr. Tregennis, for any clue which can help me.
There is nothing at all, sir.
Your people were in their usual spirits?
Were they nervous people? Did they ever show any
apprehension of coming danger?
Nothing of the kind.
You have nothing to add then, which could assist
Mortimer Tregennis considered earnestly for a moment.
There is one thing occurs to me, said he at last.
As we sat at the table my back was to the window, and my brother George, he being my
partner at cards, was facing it. I saw him once look hard over my shoulder, so I turned
round and looked also. The blind was up and the window shut, but I could just make out the
bushes on the lawn, and it seemed to me for a moment that I saw something moving among
them. I couldnt even say if it was man or animal, but I just thought there was
something there. When I asked him what he was looking at, he told me that he had the same
feeling. That is all that I can say.
Did you not investigate?
No; the matter passed as unimportant.
You left them, then, without any premonition of
None at all.
I am not clear how you came to hear the news so early
I am an early riser and generally take a walk before
breakfast. This morning I had hardly started when the doctor in his carriage overtook me.
He told me that old Mrs. Porter had sent a boy down with an urgent message. I sprang in
beside him and we drove on. When we got there we looked into that dreadful room. The
candles and the fire must have burned out hours before, and they had been sitting there in
the dark until dawn had broken. The doctor said Brenda must have been dead at least six
hours. There were no signs of violence. She just lay across the arm  of the chair with that look on her face. George and
Owen were singing snatches of songs and gibbering like two great apes. Oh, it was awful to
see! I couldnt stand it, and the doctor was as white as a sheet. Indeed, he fell
into a chair in a sort of faint, and we nearly had him on our hands as well.
Remarkablemost remarkable! said Holmes,
rising and taking his hat. I think, perhaps, we had better go down to Tredannick
Wartha without further delay. I confess that I have seldom known a case which at first
sight presented a more singular problem.
Our proceedings of that first morning did little to advance
the investigation. It was marked, however, at the outset by an incident which left the
most sinister impression upon my mind. The approach to the spot at which the tragedy
occurred is down a narrow, winding, country lane. While we made our way along it we heard
the rattle of a carriage coming towards us and stood aside to let it pass. As it drove by
us I caught a glimpse through the closed window of a horribly contorted, grinning face
glaring out at us. Those staring eyes and gnashing teeth flashed past us like a dreadful
My brothers! cried Mortimer Tregennis, white to
his lips. They are taking them to Helston.
We looked with horror after the black carriage, lumbering upon
its way. Then we turned our steps towards this ill-omened house in which they had met
their strange fate.
It was a large and bright dwelling, rather a villa than a
cottage, with a considerable garden which was already, in that Cornish air, well filled
with spring flowers. Towards this garden the window of the sitting-room fronted, and from
it, according to Mortimer Tregennis, must have come that thing of evil which had by sheer
horror in a single instant blasted their minds. Holmes walked slowly and thoughtfully
among the flower-plots and along the path before we entered the porch. So absorbed was he
in his thoughts, I remember, that he stumbled over the watering-pot, upset its contents,
and deluged both our feet and the garden path. Inside the house we were met by the elderly
Cornish housekeeper, Mrs. Porter, who, with the aid of a young girl, looked after the
wants of the family. She readily answered all Holmess questions. She had heard
nothing in the night. Her employers had all been in excellent spirits lately, and she had
never known them more cheerful and prosperous. She had fainted with horror upon entering
the room in the morning and seeing that dreadful company round the table. She had, when
she recovered, thrown open the window to let the morning air in, and had run down to the
lane, whence she sent a farm-lad for the doctor. The lady was on her bed upstairs if we
cared to see her. It took four strong men to get the brothers into the asylum carriage.
She would not herself stay in the house another day and was starting that very afternoon
to rejoin her family at St. Ives.
We ascended the stairs and viewed the body. Miss Brenda
Tregennis had been a very beautiful girl, though now verging upon middle age. Her dark,
clear-cut face was handsome, even in death, but there still lingered upon it something of
that convulsion of horror which had been her last human emotion. From her bedroom we
descended to the sitting-room, where this strange tragedy had actually occurred. The
charred ashes of the overnight fire lay in the grate. On the table were the four guttered
and burned-out candles, with the cards scattered over its surface. The chairs had been
moved back against the walls, but all else was as it  had been the night before. Holmes paced with light,
swift steps about the room; he sat in the various chairs, drawing them up and
reconstructing their positions. He tested how much of the garden was visible; he examined
the floor, the ceiling, and the fireplace; but never once did I see that sudden
brightening of his eyes and tightening of his lips which would have told me that he saw
some gleam of light in this utter darkness.
Why a fire? he asked once. Had they always a
fire in this small room on a spring evening?
Mortimer Tregennis explained that the night was cold and damp.
For that reason, after his arrival, the fire was lit. What are you going to do now,
Mr. Holmes? he asked.
My friend smiled and laid his hand upon my arm. I think,
Watson, that I shall resume that course of tobacco-poisoning which you have so often and
so justly condemned, said he. With your permission, gentlemen, we will now
return to our cottage, for I am not aware that any new factor is likely to come to our
notice here. I will turn the facts over in my mind, Mr. Tregennis, and should anything
occur to me I will certainly communicate with you and the vicar. In the meantime I wish
you both good-morning.
It was not until long after we were back in Poldhu Cottage
that Holmes broke his complete and absorbed silence. He sat coiled in his armchair, his
haggard and ascetic face hardly visible amid the blue swirl of his tobacco smoke, his
black brows drawn down, his forehead contracted, his eyes vacant and far away. Finally he
laid down his pipe and sprang to his feet.
It wont do, Watson! said he with a laugh.
Let us walk along the cliffs together and search for flint arrows. We are more
likely to find them than clues to this problem. To let the brain work without sufficient
material is like racing an engine. It racks itself to pieces. The sea air, sunshine, and
patience, Watsonall else will come.
Now, let us calmly define our position, Watson, he
continued as we skirted the cliffs together. Let us get a firm grip of the very
little which we do know, so that when fresh facts arise we may be ready to fit them into
their places. I take it, in the first place, that neither of us is prepared to admit
diabolical intrusions into the affairs of men. Let us begin by ruling that entirely out of
our minds. Very good. There remain three persons who have been grievously stricken by some
conscious or unconscious human agency. That is firm ground. Now, when did this occur?
Evidently, assuming his narrative to be true, it was immediately after Mr. Mortimer
Tregennis had left the room. That is a very important point. The presumption is that it
was within a few minutes afterwards. The cards still lay upon the table. It was already
past their usual hour for bed. Yet they had not changed their position or pushed back
their chairs. I repeat, then, that the occurrence was immediately after his departure, and
not later than eleven oclock last night.
Our next obvious step is to check, so far as we can, the
movements of Mortimer Tregennis after he left the room. In this there is no difficulty,
and they seem to be above suspicion. Knowing my methods as you do, you were, of course,
conscious of the somewhat clumsy water-pot expedient by which I obtained a clearer impress
of his foot than might otherwise have been possible. The wet, sandy path took it
admirably. Last night was also wet, you will remember, and it was not
difficulthaving obtained a sample printto pick out his track among others and
to follow  his
movements. He appears to have walked away swiftly in the direction of the vicarage.
If, then, Mortimer Tregennis disappeared from the scene,
and yet some outside person affected the cardplayers, how can we reconstruct that person,
and how was such an impression of horror conveyed? Mrs. Porter may be eliminated. She is
evidently harmless. Is there any evidence that someone crept up to the garden window and
in some manner produced so terrific an effect that he drove those who saw it out of their
senses? The only suggestion in this direction comes from Mortimer Tregennis himself, who
says that his brother spoke about some movement in the garden. That is certainly
remarkable, as the night was rainy, cloudy, and dark. Anyone who had the design to alarm
these people would be compelled to place his very face against the glass before he could
be seen. There is a three-foot flower-border outside this window, but no indication of a
footmark. It is difficult to imagine, then, how an outsider could have made so terrible an
impression upon the company, nor have we found any possible motive for so strange and
elaborate an attempt. You perceive our difficulties, Watson?
They are only too clear, I answered with
And yet, with a little more material, we may prove that
they are not insurmountable, said Holmes. I fancy that among your extensive
archives, Watson, you may find some which were nearly as obscure. Meanwhile, we shall put
the case aside until more accurate data are available, and devote the rest of our morning
to the pursuit of neolithic man.
I may have commented upon my friends power of mental
detachment, but never have I wondered at it more than upon that spring morning in Cornwall
when for two hours he discoursed upon celts, arrowheads, and shards, as lightly as if no
sinister mystery were waiting for his solution. It was not until we had returned in the
afternoon to our cottage that we found a visitor awaiting us, who soon brought our minds
back to the matter in hand. Neither of us needed to be told who that visitor was. The huge
body, the craggy and deeply seamed face with the fierce eyes and hawk-like nose, the
grizzled hair which nearly brushed our cottage ceiling, the beardgolden at the
fringes and white near the lips, save for the nicotine stain from his perpetual
cigarall these were as well known in London as in Africa, and could only be
associated with the tremendous personality of Dr. Leon Sterndale, the great lion-hunter
We had heard of his presence in the district and had once or
twice caught sight of his tall figure upon the moorland paths. He made no advances to us,
however, nor would we have dreamed of doing so to him, as it was well known that it was
his love of seclusion which caused him to spend the greater part of the intervals between
his journeys in a small bungalow buried in the lonely wood of Beauchamp Arriance. Here,
amid his books and his maps, he lived an absolutely lonely life, attending to his own
simple wants and paying little apparent heed to the affairs of his neighbours. It was a
surprise to me, therefore, to hear him asking Holmes in an eager voice whether he had made
any advance in his reconstruction of this mysterious episode. The county police are
utterly at fault, said he, but perhaps your wider experience has suggested
some conceivable explanation. My only claim to being taken into your confidence is that
during my many residences here I have come to know this family of Tregennis very
wellindeed, upon my Cornish mothers side I could call them cousins and
their strange fate has naturally been a great shock to me. I may tell you that I had got
as far as Plymouth  upon
my way to Africa, but the news reached me this morning, and I came straight back again to
help in the inquiry.
Holmes raised his eyebrows.
Did you lose your boat through it?
I will take the next.
Dear me! that is friendship indeed.
I tell you they were relatives.
Quite socousins of your mother. Was your baggage
aboard the ship?
Some of it, but the main part at the hotel.
I see. But surely this event could not have found its
way into the Plymouth morning papers.
No, sir; I had a telegram.
Might I ask from whom?
A shadow passed over the gaunt face of the explorer.
You are very inquisitive, Mr. Holmes.
It is my business.
With an effort Dr. Sterndale recovered his ruffled composure.
I have no objection to telling you, he said.
It was Mr. Roundhay, the vicar, who sent me the telegram which recalled me.
Thank you, said Holmes. I may say in answer
to your original question that I have not cleared my mind entirely on the subject of this
case, but that I have every hope of reaching some conclusion. It would be premature to say
Perhaps you would not mind telling me if your suspicions
point in any particular direction?
No, I can hardly answer that.
Then I have wasted my time and need not prolong my
visit. The famous doctor strode out of our cottage in considerable ill-humour, and
within five minutes Holmes had followed him. I saw him no more until the evening, when he
returned with a slow step and haggard face which assured me that he had made no great
progress with his investigation. He glanced at a telegram which awaited him and threw it
into the grate.
From the Plymouth hotel, Watson, he said. I
learned the name of it from the vicar, and I wired to make certain that Dr. Leon
Sterndales account was true. It appears that he did indeed spend last night there,
and that he has actually allowed some of his baggage to go on to Africa, while he returned
to be present at this investigation. What do you make of that, Watson?
He is deeply interested.
Deeply interestedyes. There is a thread here which
we have not yet grasped and which might lead us through the tangle. Cheer up, Watson, for
I am very sure that our material has not yet all come to hand. When it does we may soon
leave our difficulties behind us.
Little did I think how soon the words of Holmes would be
realized, or how strange and sinister would be that new development which opened up an
entirely fresh line of investigation. I was shaving at my window in the morning when I
heard the rattle of hoofs and, looking up, saw a dog-cart coming at a gallop down the
road. It pulled up at our door, and our friend, the vicar, sprang from it and rushed up
our garden path. Holmes was already dressed, and we hastened down to meet him.
visitor was so excited that he could hardly articulate, but at last in gasps and bursts
his tragic story came out of him.
We are devil-ridden, Mr. Holmes! My poor parish is
devil-ridden! he cried. Satan himself is loose in it! We are given over into
his hands! He danced about in his agitation, a ludicrous object if it were not for
his ashy face and startled eyes. Finally he shot out his terrible news.
Mr. Mortimer Tregennis died during the night, and with
exactly the same symptoms as the rest of his family.
Holmes sprang to his feet, all energy in an instant.
Can you fit us both into your dog-cart?
Yes, I can.
Then, Watson, we will postpone our breakfast. Mr.
Roundhay, we are entirely at your disposal. Hurryhurry, before things get
The lodger occupied two rooms at the vicarage, which were in
an angle by themselves, the one above the other. Below was a large sitting-room; above,
his bedroom. They looked out upon a croquet lawn which came up to the windows. We had
arrived before the doctor or the police, so that everything was absolutely undisturbed.
Let me describe exactly the scene as we saw it upon that misty March morning. It has left
an impression which can never be effaced from my mind.
The atmosphere of the room was of a horrible and depressing
stuffiness. The servant who had first entered had thrown up the window, or it would have
been even more intolerable. This might partly be due to the fact that a lamp stood flaring
and smoking on the centre table. Beside it sat the dead man, leaning back in his chair,
his thin beard projecting, his spectacles pushed up on to his forehead, and his lean dark
face turned towards the window and twisted into the same distortion of terror which had
marked the features of his dead sister. His limbs were convulsed and his fingers contorted
as though he had died in a very paroxysm of fear. He was fully clothed, though there were
signs that his dressing had been done in a hurry. We had already learned that his bed had
been slept in, and that the tragic end had come to him in the early morning.
One realized the red-hot energy which underlay Holmess
phlegmatic exterior when one saw the sudden change which came over him from the moment
that he entered the fatal apartment. In an instant he was tense and alert, his eyes
shining, his face set, his limbs quivering with eager activity. He was out on the lawn, in
through the window, round the room, and up into the bedroom, for all the world like a
dashing foxhound drawing a cover. In the bedroom he made a rapid cast around and ended by
throwing open the window, which appeared to give him some fresh cause for excitement, for
he leaned out of it with loud ejaculations of interest and delight. Then he rushed down
the stair, out through the open window, threw himself upon his face on the lawn, sprang up
and into the room once more, all with the energy of the hunter who is at the very heels of
his quarry. The lamp, which was an ordinary standard, he examined with minute care, making
certain measurements upon its bowl. He carefully scrutinized with his lens the talc shield
which covered the top of the chimney and scraped off some ashes which adhered to its upper
surface, putting some of them into an envelope, which he placed in his pocketbook.
Finally, just as the doctor and the official police put in an appearance, he beckoned to
the vicar and we all three went out upon the lawn.
I am glad to say that my investigation has not been
entirely barren, he remarked. I cannot remain to discuss the matter with the
police, but I should be  exceedingly
obliged, Mr. Roundhay, if you would give the inspector my compliments and direct his
attention to the bedroom window and to the sitting-room lamp. Each is suggestive, and
together they are almost conclusive. If the police would desire further information I
shall be happy to see any of them at the cottage. And now, Watson, I think that, perhaps,
we shall be better employed elsewhere.
It may be that the police resented the intrusion of an
amateur, or that they imagined themselves to be upon some hopeful line of investigation;
but it is certain that we heard nothing from them for the next two days. During this time
Holmes spent some of his time smoking and dreaming in the cottage; but a greater portion
in country walks which he undertook alone, returning after many hours without remark as to
where he had been. One experiment served to show me the line of his investigation. He had
bought a lamp which was the duplicate of the one which had burned in the room of Mortimer
Tregennis on the morning of the tragedy. This he filled with the same oil as that used at
the vicarage, and he carefully timed the period which it would take to be exhausted.
Another experiment which he made was of a more unpleasant nature, and one which I am not
likely ever to forget.
You will remember, Watson, he remarked one
afternoon, that there is a single common point of resemblance in the varying reports
which have reached us. This concerns the effect of the atmosphere of the room in each case
upon those who had first entered it. You will recollect that Mortimer Tregennis, in
describing the episode of his last visit to his brothers house, remarked that the
doctor on entering the room fell into a chair? You had forgotten? Well, I can answer for
it that it was so. Now, you will remember also that Mrs. Porter, the housekeeper, told us
that she herself fainted upon entering the room and had afterwards opened the window. In
the second casethat of Mortimer Tregennis himselfyou cannot have forgotten the
horrible stuffiness of the room when we arrived, though the servant had thrown open the
window. That servant, I found upon inquiry, was so ill that she had gone to her bed. You
will admit, Watson, that these facts are very suggestive. In each case there is evidence
of a poisonous atmosphere. In each case, also, there is combustion going on in the
roomin the one case a fire, in the other a lamp. The fire was needed, but the lamp
was litas a comparison of the oil consumed will showlong after it was broad
daylight. Why? Surely because there is some connection between three thingsthe
burning, the stuffy atmosphere, and, finally, the madness or death of those unfortunate
people. That is clear, is it not?
It would appear so.
At least we may accept it as a working hypothesis. We
will suppose, then, that something was burned in each case which produced an atmosphere
causing strange toxic effects. Very good. In the first instancethat of the Tregennis
familythis substance was placed in the fire. Now the window was shut, but the fire
would naturally carry fumes to some extent up the chimney. Hence one would expect the
effects of the poison to be less than in the second case, where there was less escape for
the vapour. The result seems to indicate that it was so, since in the first case only the
woman, who had presumably the more sensitive organism, was killed, the others exhibiting
that temporary or permanent lunacy which is evidently the first effect of the drug. In the
second case the result was complete. The facts, therefore, seem to bear out the theory of
a poison which worked by combustion.
this train of reasoning in my head I naturally looked about in Mortimer Tregenniss
room to find some remains of this substance. The obvious place to look was the talc shield
or smoke-guard of the lamp. There, sure enough, I perceived a number of flaky ashes, and
round the edges a fringe of brownish powder, which had not yet been consumed. Half of this
I took, as you saw, and I placed it in an envelope.
Why half, Holmes?
It is not for me, my dear Watson, to stand in the way of
the official police force. I leave them all the evidence which I found. The poison still
remained upon the talc had they the wit to find it. Now, Watson, we will light our lamp;
we will, however, take the precaution to open our window to avoid the premature decease of
two deserving members of society, and you will seat yourself near that open window in an
armchair unless, like a sensible man, you determine to have nothing to do with the affair.
Oh, you will see it out, will you? I thought I knew my Watson. This chair I will place
opposite yours, so that we may be the same distance from the poison and face to face. The
door we will leave ajar. Each is now in a position to watch the other and to bring the
experiment to an end should the symptoms seem alarming. Is that all clear? Well, then, I
take our powderor what remains of itfrom the envelope, and I lay it above the
burning lamp. So! Now, Watson, let us sit down and await developments.
They were not long in coming. I had hardly settled in my chair
before I was conscious of a thick, musky odour, subtle and nauseous. At the very first
whiff of it my brain and my imagination were beyond all control. A thick, black cloud
swirled before my eyes, and my mind told me that in this cloud, unseen as yet, but about
to spring out upon my appalled senses, lurked all that was vaguely horrible, all that was
monstrous and inconceivably wicked in the universe. Vague shapes swirled and swam amid the
dark cloud-bank, each a menace and a warning of something coming, the advent of some
unspeakable dweller upon the threshold, whose very shadow would blast my soul. A freezing
horror took possession of me. I felt that my hair was rising, that my eyes were
protruding, that my mouth was opened, and my tongue like leather. The turmoil within my
brain was such that something must surely snap. I tried to scream and was vaguely aware of
some hoarse croak which was my own voice, but distant and detached from myself. At the
same moment, in some effort of escape, I broke through that cloud of despair and had a
glimpse of Holmess face, white, rigid, and drawn with horrorthe very look
which I had seen upon the features of the dead. It was that vision which gave me an
instant of sanity and of strength. I dashed from my chair, threw my arms round Holmes, and
together we lurched through the door, and an instant afterwards had thrown ourselves down
upon the grass plot and were lying side by side, conscious only of the glorious sunshine
which was bursting its way through the hellish cloud of terror which had girt us in.
Slowly it rose from our souls like the mists from a landscape until peace and reason had
returned, and we were sitting upon the grass, wiping our clammy foreheads, and looking
with apprehension at each other to mark the last traces of that terrific experience which
we had undergone.
Upon my word, Watson! said Holmes at last with
an unsteady voice, I owe you both my thanks and an apology. It was an unjustifiable
experiment even for ones self, and doubly so for a friend. I am really very
You know, I answered with some emotion, for I had
never seen so much of Holmess heart before, that it is my greatest joy and
privilege to help you.
relapsed at once into the half-humorous, half-cynical vein which was his habitual attitude
to those about him. It would be superfluous to drive us mad, my dear Watson,
said he. A candid observer would certainly declare that we were so already before we
embarked upon so wild an experiment. I confess that I never imagined that the effect could
be so sudden and so severe. He dashed into the cottage, and, reappearing with the
burning lamp held at full arms length, he threw it among a bank of brambles.
We must give the room a little time to clear. I take it, Watson, that you have no
longer a shadow of a doubt as to how these tragedies were produced?
But the cause remains as obscure as before. Come into
the arbour here and let us discuss it together. That villainous stuff seems still to
linger round my throat. I think we must admit that all the evidence points to this man,
Mortimer Tregennis, having been the criminal in the first tragedy, though he was the
victim in the second one. We must remember, in the first place, that there is some story
of a family quarrel, followed by a reconciliation. How bitter that quarrel may have been,
or how hollow the reconciliation we cannot tell. When I think of Mortimer Tregennis, with
the foxy face and the small shrewd, beady eyes behind the spectacles, he is not a man whom
I should judge to be of a particularly forgiving disposition. Well, in the next place, you
will remember that this idea of someone moving in the garden, which took our attention for
a moment from the real cause of the tragedy, emanated from him. He had a motive in
misleading us. Finally, if he did not throw this substance into the fire at the moment of
leaving the room, who did do so? The affair happened immediately after his departure. Had
anyone else come in, the family would certainly have risen from the table. Besides, in
peaceful Cornwall, visitors do not arrive after ten oclock at night. We may take it,
then, that all the evidence points to Mortimer Tregennis as the culprit.
Then his own death was suicide!
Well, Watson, it is on the face of it a not impossible
supposition. The man who had the guilt upon his soul of having brought such a fate upon
his own family might well be driven by remorse to inflict it upon himself. There are,
however, some cogent reasons against it. Fortunately, there is one man in England who
knows all about it, and I have made arrangements by which we shall hear the facts this
afternoon from his own lips. Ah! he is a little before his time. Perhaps you would kindly
step this way, Dr. Leon Sterndale. We have been conducting a chemical experiment indoors
which has left our little room hardly fit for the reception of so distinguished a
I had heard the click of the garden gate, and now the majestic
figure of the great African explorer appeared upon the path. He turned in some surprise
towards the rustic arbour in which we sat.
You sent for me, Mr. Holmes. I had your note about an
hour ago, and I have come, though I really do not know why I should obey your
Perhaps we can clear the point up before we
separate, said Holmes. Meanwhile, I am much obliged to you for your courteous
acquiescence. You will excuse this informal reception in the open air, but my friend
Watson and I have nearly furnished an additional chapter to what the papers call the
Cornish Horror, and we prefer a clear atmosphere for the present. Perhaps, since the
matters which we have to discuss will affect you personally in a very intimate fashion, it
is as well that we should talk where there can be no eavesdropping.
explorer took his cigar from his lips and gazed sternly at my companion.
I am at a loss to know, sir, he said, what
you can have to speak about which affects me personally in a very intimate fashion.
The killing of Mortimer Tregennis, said Holmes.
For a moment I wished that I were armed. Sterndales
fierce face turned to a dusky red, his eyes glared, and the knotted, passionate veins
started out in his forehead, while he sprang forward with clenched hands towards my
companion. Then he stopped, and with a violent effort he resumed a cold, rigid calmness,
which was, perhaps, more suggestive of danger than his hot-headed outburst.
I have lived so long among savages and beyond the
law, said he, that I have got into the way of being a law to myself. You would
do well, Mr. Holmes, not to forget it, for I have no desire to do you an injury.
Nor have I any desire to do you an injury, Dr.
Sterndale. Surely the clearest proof of it is that, knowing what I know, I have sent for
you and not for the police.
Sterndale sat down with a gasp, overawed for, perhaps, the
first time in his adventurous life. There was a calm assurance of power in Holmess
manner which could not be withstood. Our visitor stammered for a moment, his great hands
opening and shutting in his agitation.
What do you mean? he asked at last. If this
is bluff upon your part, Mr. Holmes, you have chosen a bad man for your experiment. Let us
have no more beating about the bush. What do you mean?
I will tell you, said Holmes, and the reason
why I tell you is that I hope frankness may beget frankness. What my next step may be will
depend entirely upon the nature of your own defence.
My defence against what?
Against the charge of killing Mortimer Tregennis.
Sterndale mopped his forehead with his handkerchief.
Upon my word, you are getting on, said he. Do all your successes depend
upon this prodigious power of bluff?
The bluff, said Holmes sternly, is upon your
side, Dr. Leon Sterndale, and not upon mine. As a proof I will tell you some of the facts
upon which my conclusions are based. Of your return from Plymouth, allowing much of your
property to go on to Africa, I will say nothing save that it first informed me that you
were one of the factors which had to be taken into account in reconstructing this
I came back
I have heard your reasons and regard them as
unconvincing and inadequate. We will pass that. You came down here to ask me whom I
suspected. I refused to answer you. You then went to the vicarage, waited outside it for
some time, and finally returned to your cottage.
How do you know that?
I followed you.
I saw no one.
That is what you may expect to see when I follow you.
You spent a restless night at your cottage, and you formed certain plans, which in the
early morning you proceeded to put into execution. Leaving your door just as day was
breaking,  you filled
your pocket with some reddish gravel that was lying heaped beside your gate.
Sterndale gave a violent start and looked at Holmes in
You then walked swiftly for the mile which separated you
from the vicarage. You were wearing, I may remark, the same pair of ribbed tennis shoes
which are at the present moment upon your feet. At the vicarage you passed through the
orchard and the side hedge, coming out under the window of the lodger Tregennis. It was
now daylight, but the household was not yet stirring. You drew some of the gravel from
your pocket, and you threw it up at the window above you.
Sterndale sprang to his feet.
I believe that you are the devil himself! he
Holmes smiled at the compliment. It took two, or
possibly three, handfuls before the lodger came to the window. You beckoned him to come
down. He dressed hurriedly and descended to his sitting-room. You entered by the window.
There was an interviewa short oneduring which you walked up and down the room.
Then you passed out and closed the window, standing on the lawn outside smoking a cigar
and watching what occurred. Finally, after the death of Tregennis, you withdrew as you had
come. Now, Dr. Sterndale, how do you justify such conduct, and what were the motives for
your actions? If you prevaricate or trifle with me, I give you my assurance that the
matter will pass out of my hands forever.
Our visitors face had turned ashen gray as he listened
to the words of his accuser. Now he sat for some time in thought with his face sunk in his
hands. Then with a sudden impulsive gesture he plucked a photograph from his breast-pocket
and threw it on the rustic table before us.
That is why I have done it, said he.
It showed the bust and face of a very beautiful woman. Holmes
stooped over it.
Brenda Tregennis, said he.
Yes, Brenda Tregennis, repeated our visitor.
For years I have loved her. For years she has loved me. There is the secret of that
Cornish seclusion which people have marvelled at. It has brought me close to the one thing
on earth that was dear to me. I could not marry her, for I have a wife who has left me for
years and yet whom, by the deplorable laws of England, I could not divorce. For years
Brenda waited. For years I waited. And this is what we have waited for. A terrible
sob shook his great frame, and he clutched his throat under his brindled beard. Then with
an effort he mastered himself and spoke on:
The vicar knew. He was in our confidence. He would tell
you that she was an angel upon earth. That was why he telegraphed to me and I returned.
What was my baggage or Africa to me when I learned that such a fate had come upon my
darling? There you have the missing clue to my action, Mr. Holmes.
Proceed, said my friend.
Dr. Sterndale drew from his pocket a paper packet and laid it
upon the table. On the outside was written Radix pedis diaboli with a red
poison label beneath it. He pushed it towards me. I understand that you are a
doctor, sir. Have you ever heard of this preparation?
Devils-foot root! No, I have never heard of
It is no reflection upon your professional
knowledge, said he, for I believe that, save for one sample in a laboratory at
Buda, there is no other specimen in  Europe.
It has not yet found its way either into the pharmacopoeia or into the literature of
toxicology. The root is shaped like a foot, half human, half goatlike; hence the fanciful
name given by a botanical missionary. It is used as an ordeal poison by the medicine-men
in certain districts of West Africa and is kept as a secret among them. This particular
specimen I obtained under very extraordinary circumstances in the Ubanghi country.
He opened the paper as he spoke and disclosed a heap of reddish-brown, snuff-like powder.
Well, sir? asked Holmes sternly.
I am about to tell you, Mr. Holmes, all that actually
occurred, for you already know so much that it is clearly to my interest that you should
know all. I have already explained the relationship in which I stood to the Tregennis
family. For the sake of the sister I was friendly with the brothers. There was a family
quarrel about money which estranged this man Mortimer, but it was supposed to be made up,
and I afterwards met him as I did the others. He was a sly, subtle, scheming man, and
several things arose which gave me a suspicion of him, but I had no cause for any positive
One day, only a couple of weeks ago, he came down to my
cottage and I showed him some of my African curiosities. Among other things I exhibited
this powder, and I told him of its strange properties, how it stimulates those brain
centres which control the emotion of fear, and how either madness or death is the fate of
the unhappy native who is subjected to the ordeal by the priest of his tribe. I told him
also how powerless European science would be to detect it. How he took it I cannot say,
for I never left the room, but there is no doubt that it was then, while I was opening
cabinets and stooping to boxes, that he managed to abstract some of the devils-foot
root. I well remember how he plied me with questions as to the amount and the time that
was needed for its effect, but I little dreamed that he could have a personal reason for
I thought no more of the matter until the vicars
telegram reached me at Plymouth. This villain had thought that I would be at sea before
the news could reach me, and that I should be lost for years in Africa. But I returned at
once. Of course, I could not listen to the details without feeling assured that my poison
had been used. I came round to see you on the chance that some other explanation had
suggested itself to you. But there could be none. I was convinced that Mortimer Tregennis
was the murderer; that for the sake of money, and with the idea, perhaps, that if the
other members of his family were all insane he would be the sole guardian of their joint
property, he had used the devils-foot powder upon them, driven two of them out of
their senses, and killed his sister Brenda, the one human being whom I have ever loved or
who has ever loved me. There was his crime; what was to be his punishment?
Should I appeal to the law? Where were my proofs? I knew
that the facts were true, but could I help to make a jury of countrymen believe so
fantastic a story? I might or I might not. But I could not afford to fail. My soul cried
out for revenge. I have said to you once before, Mr. Holmes, that I have spent much of my
life outside the law, and that I have come at last to be a law to myself. So it was now. I
determined that the fate which he had given to others should be shared by himself. Either
that or I would do justice upon him with my own hand. In all England there can be no man
who sets less value upon his own life than I do at the present moment.
Now I have told you all. You have yourself supplied the
rest. I did, as you say,  after
a restless night, set off early from my cottage. I foresaw the difficulty of arousing him,
so I gathered some gravel from the pile which you have mentioned, and I used it to throw
up to his window. He came down and admitted me through the window of the sitting-room. I
laid his offence before him. I told him that I had come both as judge and executioner. The
wretch sank into a chair, paralyzed at the sight of my revolver. I lit the lamp, put the
powder above it, and stood outside the window, ready to carry out my threat to shoot him
should he try to leave the room. In five minutes he died. My God! how he died! But my
heart was flint, for he endured nothing which my innocent darling had not felt before him.
There is my story, Mr. Holmes. Perhaps, if you loved a woman, you would have done as much
yourself. At any rate, I am in your hands. You can take what steps you like. As I have
already said, there is no man living who can fear death less than I do.
Holmes sat for some little time in silence.
What were your plans? he asked at last.
I had intended to bury myself in central Africa. My work
there is but half finished.
Go and do the other half, said Holmes. I, at
least, am not prepared to prevent you.
Dr. Sterndale raised his giant figure, bowed gravely, and
walked from the arbour. Holmes lit his pipe and handed me his pouch.
Some fumes which are not poisonous would be a welcome
change, said he. I think you must agree, Watson, that it is not a case in
which we are called upon to interfere. Our investigation has been independent, and our
action shall be so also. You would not denounce the man?
Certainly not, I answered.
I have never loved, Watson, but if I did and if the
woman I loved had met such an end, I might act even as our lawless lion-hunter has done.
Who knows? Well, Watson, I will not offend your intelligence by explaining what is
obvious. The gravel upon the window-sill was, of course, the starting-point of my
research. It was unlike anything in the vicarage garden. Only when my attention had been
drawn to Dr. Sterndale and his cottage did I find its counterpart. The lamp shining in
broad daylight and the remains of powder upon the shield were successive links in a fairly
obvious chain. And now, my dear Watson, I think we may dismiss the matter from our mind
and go back with a clear conscience to the study of those Chaldean roots which are surely
to be traced in the Cornish branch of the great Celtic speech.