His Last Bow by Arthur Conan Doyle (good books to read in english .txt) 📕

“No doubt we had, but I beg you won’t try to drag me into the

matter, Mr. Holmes. What is the use of our speculating in this

way when the original plans were actually found on West?”

“Well, it is certainly singular that he should run the risk of

taking originals if he could safely have taken copies, which

would have equally served his turn.”

“Singular, no doubt—and yet he did so.”

“Every inquiry in this case reveals something inexplicable. Now

there are three papers still missing. They are, as I understand,

the vital ones.”

“Yes, that is so.”

“Do you mean to say that anyone holding these three papers, and

without the seven others, could construct a Bruce-Partington

submarine?”

“I reported to that effect to the Admiralty. But to-day I have

been over the drawings again, and I am not so sure of it. The

double valves with the automatic self-adjusting slots are drawn

in one of the papers which have been returned. Until the

foreigners had invented that for themselves they could not make

the boat. Of course they might soon get over the difficulty.”

“But the three missing drawings are the most important?”

“Undoubtedly.”

“I think, with your permission, I will now take a stroll round

the premises. I do not recall any other question which I desired

to ask.”

He examined the lock of the safe, the door of the room, and

finally the iron shutters of the window. It was only when we

were on the lawn outside that his interest was strongly excited.

There was a laurel bush outside the window, and several of the

branches bore signs of having been twisted or snapped. He

examined them carefully with his lens, and then some dim and

vague marks upon the earth beneath. Finally he asked the chief

clerk to close the iron shutters, and he pointed out to me that

they hardly met in the centre, and that it would be possible for

anyone outside to see what was going on within the room.

“The indications are ruined by three days’ delay. They may mean

something or nothing. Well, Watson, I do not think that Woolwich

can help us further. It is a small crop which we have gathered.

Let us see if we can do better in London.”

Yet we added one more sheaf to our harvest before we left

Woolwich Station. The clerk in the ticket office was able to say

with confidence that he saw Cadogan West—whom he knew well by

sight—upon the Monday night, and that he went to London by the

8:15 to London Bridge. He was alone and took a single third-class ticket. The clerk was struck at the time by his excited

and nervous manner. So shaky was he that he could hardly pick up

his change, and the clerk had helped him with it. A reference to

the timetable showed that the 8:15 was the first train which it

was possible for West to take after he had left the lady about

7:30.

“Let us reconstruct, Watson,” said Holmes after half an hour of

silence. “I am not aware that in all our joint researches we

have ever had a case which was more difficult to get at. Every

fresh advance which we make only reveals a fresh ridge beyond.

And yet we have surely made some appreciable progress.

“The effect of our inquiries at Woolwich has in the main been

against young Cadogan West; but the indications at the window

would lend themselves to a more favourable hypothesis. Let us

suppose, for example, that he had been approached by some foreign

agent. It might have been done under such pledges as would have

prevented him from speaking of it, and yet would have affected

his thoughts in the direction indicated by his remarks to his

fiancee. Very good. We will now suppose that as he went to the

theatre with the young lady he suddenly, in the fog, caught a

glimpse of this same agent going in the direction of the office.

He was an impetuous man, quick in his decisions. Everything gave

way to his duty. He followed the man, reached the window, saw

the abstraction of the documents, and pursued the thief. In this

way we get over the objection that no one would take originals

when he could make copies. This outsider had to take originals.

So far it holds together.”

“What is the next step?”

“Then we come into difficulties. One would imagine that under

such circumstances the first act of young Cadogan West would be

to seize the villain and raise the alarm. Why did he not do so?

Could it have been an official superior who took the papers?

That would explain West’s conduct. Or could the chief have given

West the slip in the fog, and West started at once to London to

head him off from his own rooms, presuming that he knew where the

rooms were? The call must have been very pressing, since he left

his girl standing in the fog and made no effort to communicate

with her. Our scent runs cold here, and there is a vast gap

between either hypothesis and the laying of West’s body, with

seven papers in his pocket, on the roof of a Metropolitan train.

My instinct now is to work form the other end. If Mycroft has

given us the list of addresses we may be able to pick our man and

follow two tracks instead of one.”

Surely enough, a note awaited us at Baker Street. A government

messenger had brought it post-haste. Holmes glanced at it and

threw it over to me.

There are numerous small fry, but few who would handle so big an

affair. The only men worth considering are Adolph Mayer, of 13

Great George Street, Westminster; Louis La Rothiere, of Campden

Mansions, Notting Hill; and Hugo Oberstein, 13 Caulfield Gardens,

Kensington. The latter was known to be in town on Monday and is

now reported as having left. Glad to hear you have seen some

light. The Cabinet awaits your final report with the utmost

anxiety. Urgent representations have arrived from the very

highest quarter. The whole force of the State is at your back if

you should need it.

Mycroft.

“I’m afraid,” said Holmes, smiling, “that all the queen’s horses

and all the queen’s men cannot avail in this matter.” He had

spread out his big map of London and leaned eagerly over it.

“Well, well,” said he presently with an exclamation of

satisfaction, “things are turning a little in our direction at

last. Why, Watson, I do honestly believe that we are going to

pull it off, after all.” He slapped me on the shoulder with a

sudden burst of hilarity. “I am going out now. It is only a

reconnaissance. I will do nothing serious without my trusted

comrade and biographer at my elbow. Do you stay here, and the

odds are that you will see me again in an hour or two. If time

hangs heavy get foolscap and a pen, and begin your narrative of

how we saved the State.”

I felt some reflection of his elation in my own mind, for I knew

well that he would not depart so far from his usual austerity of

demeanour unless there was good cause for exultation. All the

long November evening I waited, filled with impatience for his

return. At last, shortly after nine o’clock, there arrived a

messenger with a note:

Am dining at Goldini’s Restaurant, Gloucester Road, Kensington.

Please come at once and join me there. Bring with you a jemmy, a

dark lantern, a chisel, and a revolver.

S.H.

It was a nice equipment for a respectable citizen to carry

through the dim, fog-draped streets. I stowed them all

discreetly away in my overcoat and drove straight to the address

given. There sat my friend at a little round table near the door

of the garish Italian restaurant.

“Have you had something to eat? Then join me in a coffee and

curacao. Try one of the proprietor’s cigars. They are less

poisonous than one would expect. Have you the tools?”

“They are here, in my overcoat.”

“Excellent. Let me give you a short sketch of what I have done,

with some indication of what we are about to do. Now it must be

evident to you, Watson, that this young man’s body was PLACED on

the roof of the train. That was clear from the instant that I

determined the fact that it was from the roof, and not from a

carriage, that he had fallen.”

“Could it not have been dropped from a bridge?”

“I should say it was impossible. If you examine the roofs you

will find that they are slightly rounded, and there is no railing

round them. Therefore, we can say for certain that young Cadogan

West was placed on it.”

“How could he be placed there?”

“That was the question which we had to answer. There is only one

possible way. You are aware that the Underground runs clear of

tunnels at some points in the West End. I had a vague memory

that as I have travelled by it I have occasionally seen windows

just above my head. Now, suppose that a train halted under such

a window, would there be any difficulty in laying a body upon the

roof?”

“It seems most improbable.”

“We must fall back upon the old axiom that when all other

contingencies fail, whatever remains, however improbable, must be

the truth. Here all other contingencies HAVE failed. When I

found that the leading international agent, who had just left

London, lived in a row of houses which abutted upon the

Underground, I was so pleased that you were a little astonished

at my sudden frivolity.”

“Oh, that was it, was it?”

“Yes, that was it. Mr. Hugo Oberstein, of 13 Caulfield Gardens,

had become my objective. I began my operations at Gloucester

Road Station, where a very helpful official walked with me along

the track and allowed me to satisfy myself not only that the

back-stair windows of Caulfield Gardens open on the line but the

even more essential fact that, owing to the intersection of one

of the larger railways, the Underground trains are frequently

held motionless for some minutes at that very spot.”

“Splendid, Holmes! You have got it!”

“So far—so far, Watson. We advance, but the goal is afar.

Well, having seen the back of Caulfield Gardens, I visited the

front and satisfied myself that the bird was indeed flown. It is

a considerable house, unfurnished, so far as I could judge, in

the upper rooms. Oberstein lived there with a single valet, who

was probably a confederate entirely in his confidence. We must

bear in mind that Oberstein has gone to the Continent to dispose

of his booty, but not with any idea of flight; for he had no

reason to fear a warrant, and the idea of an amateur domiciliary

visit would certainly never occur to him. Yet that is precisely

what we are about to make.”

“Could we not get a warrant and legalize it?”

“Hardly on the evidence.”

“What can we hope to do?”

“We cannot tell what correspondence may be there.”

“I don’t like it, Holmes.”

“My dear fellow, you shall keep watch in the street. I’ll do the

criminal part. It’s not a time to stick at trifles. Think of

Mycroft’s note, of the Admiralty, the Cabinet, the exalted person

who waits for news. We are bound to go.”

My answer was to rise from the table.

“You are right, Holmes. We are bound to go.”