His Last Bow | Page 4

that you can carry the story
on, and that some tragedy had occurred. I can assure you that every
word I have said is the truth, and that, outside of what I have told you, I
know absolutely nothing about the fate of this man. My only desire is
to help the law in every possible way."
"I am sure of it, Mr. Scott Eccles--I am sure of it," said Inspector

Gregson in a very amiable tone. "I am bound to say that everything
which you have said agrees very closely with the facts as they have
come to our notice. For example, there was that note which arrived
during dinner. Did you chance to observe what became of it?"
"Yes, I did. Garcia rolled it up and threw it into the fire."
"What do you say to that, Mr. Baynes?"
The country detective was a stout, puffy, red man, whose face was only
redeemed from grossness by two extraordinarily bright eyes, almost
hidden behind the heavy creases of cheek and brow. With a slow smile
he drew a folded and discoloured scrap of paper from his pocket.
"It was a dog-grate, Mr. Holmes, and he overpitched it. I picked this
out unburned from the back of it."
Holmes smiled his appreciation.
"You must have examined the house very carefully to find a single
pellet of paper."
"I did, Mr. Holmes. It's my way. Shall I read it, Mr. Gregson?"
The Londoner nodded.
"The note is written upon ordinary cream-laid paper without watermark.
It is a quarter-sheet. The paper is cut off in two snips with a
short-bladed scissors. It has been folded over three times and sealed
with purple wax, put on hurriedly and pressed down with some flat
oval object. It is addressed to Mr. Garcia, Wisteria Lodge. It says:
"Our own colours, green and white. Green open, white shut. Main stair,
first corridor, seventh right, green baize. Godspeed. D.
"It is a woman's writing, done with a sharp-pointed pen, but the address
is either done with another pen or by someone else. It is thicker and
bolder, as you see."

"A very remarkable note," said Holmes, glancing it over. "I must
compliment you, Mr. Baynes, upon your attention to detail in your
examination of it. A few trifling points might perhaps be added. The
oval seal is undoubtedly a plain sleeve-link--what else is of such a
shape? The scissors were bent nail scissors. Short as the two snips are,
you can distinctly see the same slight curve in each."
The country detective chuckled.
"I thought I had squeezed all the juice out of it, but I see there was a
little over," he said. "I'm bound to say that I make nothing of the note
except that there was something on hand, and that a woman, as usual
was at the bottom of it."
Mr. Scott Eccles had fidgeted in his seat during this conversation.
"I am glad you found the note, since it corroborates my story," said he.
"But I beg to point out that I have not yet heard what has happened to
Mr. Garcia, nor what has become of his household."
"As to Garcia," said Gregson, "that is easily answered. He was found
dead this morning upon Oxshott Common, nearly a mile from his home.
His head had been smashed to pulp by heavy blows of a sandbag or
some such instrument, which had crushed rather than wounded. It is a
lonely corner, and there is no house within a quarter of a mile of the
spot. He had apparently been struck down first from behind, but his
assailant had gone on beating him long after he was dead. It was a most
furious assault. There are no footsteps nor any clue to the criminals."
"Robbed?"
"No, there was no attempt at robbery."
"This is very painful--very painful and terrible," said Mr. Scott Eccles
in a querulous voice, "but it is really uncommonly hard on me. I had
nothing to do with my host going off upon a nocturnal excursion and
meeting so sad an end. How do I come to be mixed up with the case?"

"Very simply, sir," Inspector Baynes answered. "The only document
found in the pocket of the deceased was a letter from you saying that
you would be with him on the night of his death. It was the envelope of
this letter which gave us the dead man's name and address. It was after
nine this morning when we reached his house and found neither you
nor anyone else inside it. I wired to Mr. Gregson to run you down in
London while I examined Wisteria Lodge. Then I came into town,
joined Mr. Gregson, and here we are."
"I think now," said Gregson, rising, "we had best put this matter