5.

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“Before I could question the lady further we heard footsteps and she ran from the room,” said Mr. Hatherley. “A moment later the Colonel appeared, with a second man, who was introduced as Mr. Ferguson, a rather fat man with a double chin.”

“And apart from the late hour, all seemed normal, I take it,” said Holmes.

“Indeed so,” said Mr. Hatherley. “We shook hands and, apart from the late hour as you say, it was just like any other job I had attended. First meet the machine owner and operator, then look at the machine itself and fix the problem. No sooner had we started discussing hydraulic machinery than I clean forgot the lady’s bizarre warning.”

“That’s understandable,” said I. “She might have been some madwoman who ranted warnings of danger to every person she met.”

“Mr. Ferguson, who was clearly English, explained that their machine had gotten stiff and lost some power,” Mr. Hatherley said. “All that they wanted was my professional opinion as to what to do fix it. Then I would be paid my fifty guineas, given a comfortable bed for the night, and on my way back to London the next morning.”

“And then?” urged Holmes.

“I agreed, and the Colonel said we would go to see the machine that needed repair,” explained Mr. Hatherley, “so we went upstairs.”

“Upstairs?” Holmes looked surprised. “That does not sound like it has anything to do with Fuller’s earth. Such a machine would surely be in an outhouse of some sort on the grounds, away from the house.”

“I thought the same thing,” said Mr. Hatherley. “The Colonel said the Fuller’s earth was dug outside but compressed indoors. By then I was becoming a little concerned, because even if this were true the machine would surely be on the ground floor. But having come this far I could hardly back out.”

“Indeed not,” I said.

“The house was very old and in disrepair,” Mr. Hatherley explained. “There were no furnishings and it was clear the upper floors had not been used for many years. All except for one room, where the door and walls was quite new, and the floor and ceiling were made of metal.”

“A metal floor and ceiling?” Holmes gleefully rubbed his hands again. “This gets more and more interesting.”

“In fact it was a very large press,” said Mr. Hathaway. “I recognised it for what it was immediately. The ceiling was actually the end of a piston that would be slowly brought down to compress whatever was placed on the metal floor. Were it to be switched on while someone was in there they would be crushed to death.”

“Good heavens!” I cried.

“The Colonel told me this was where the Fuller’s earth was compressed. By then it was quite clear this was a lie. There was no possible way of bringing up large quantities of Fuller’s earth through the house to where the press was situated. But I said nothing. “

“Very wise,” said Holmes.

“Did you fix it?” I asked.

“Well, I told them what the problem was,” Mr. Hatherley said. “Once the machine was turned on it was easy to tell from the swishing sound that there was a leak. I showed them where the rubber seal had come loose and how they could easily fix the problem. Then I did something very silly.”