A Puzzling Crime Scene

“Kindly take us to the bedrooms we are to examine,” you request.

The building is of gray stone, with a high central portion and two curving wings on each side. In one of these wings, the windows are broken and blocked with wooden boards, while the roof is partly caved in. The central portion is in little better repair, but the right-hand block appears modern. The blinds in the windows, with smoke curling up from the chimneys, show that this is where the family lives.

You walk slowly up and down the ill-trimmed lawn. You examine with deep attention the outsides of the bedroom windows.

“This, I take it, belongs to the room where you used to sleep. The center one was your sister’s, and the one next to the main building was Dr. Roylott’s.”

“Exactly, but I am now sleeping in the middle one.”

“There does not seem to be any need for repairs at your old room,” you note.

“There were none. I believe that it was an excuse to move me from my room.”

“Ah! That is suggestive. Now, on the other side of this narrow wing runs the corridor from which these three rooms open. There are windows in it, of course?”

“Yes, but too narrow for anyone to pass through.”

“You both locked your doors at night, so your rooms were unapproachable from that side. Would you have the kindness to go into your room and bar your shutters?”

Miss Stoner does so, and you try in every way to force the shutter open, but without success. There is no way to raise the bar. With your lens, you test the hinges, but they are of solid iron.

“Hum,” you say, scratching your chin. “No one could pass through these shutters if they were bolted. Well, we shall see if the inside throws any light upon the matter.”

A side door leads into the corridor. You proceed to the second bedroom, in which Miss Stoner now sleeps and in which her sister met her fate. It is a quaint little room, with a low ceiling and a gaping fireplace. A brown chest of drawers stands in one corner, a narrow bed in another, and a dressing table on the left-hand side of the window. These articles, with two small chairs, make up all the furniture in the room. The walls are of brown, worm-eaten oak.

You pull one of the chairs into a corner and sit. Your eyes travel round and round and up and down, taking in every detail of the room.

“Where does that bell communicate to?” you ask. You point to a thick bell-rope which hangs down beside the bed. The end actually lies upon the pillow.

“To the housekeeper’s room,” says Miss Stoner.

“It looks newer than the other things.”

“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago,” your client replies.

“Your sister asked for it, I suppose?”

“No, I never heard of her using it. We used to always get what we wanted for ourselves.”

“Then it seems odd to put so nice a bell-pull there. You will excuse me for a few minutes.” You throw yourself down upon your face. With your lens in hand, you crawl swiftly backward and forward, examining the cracks between the boards. Then you do the same with the woodwork.

You walk to the bed and spend some time staring at it. You run your eye up and down the wall. Finally you take the bell-rope in your hand and give it a brisk tug.

“Why, it’s a dummy,” you say, surprised.

“Won’t it ring?” asks Miss Stoner.

“No, it is not even attached to a wire. Interesting, I can see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little opening for the ventilator is.”

“How strange,” says Miss Stoner. “I never noticed that before.”

“Very strange indeed,” you mutter, pulling at the rope. “There are one or two peculiar points about this room. For example, why does the ventilator open into another room? It should communicate with outside air.”

“That is also quite new,” says the lady.

“Done the same time as the bell-rope?” you ask.

“Yes, there were several changes about that time.”

“Dummy bell-ropes and ventilators which do not really ventilate. With your permission, Miss Stoner, we shall carry our researches into the next room.”

Dr. Grimesby Roylott’s chamber is larger than that of his stepdaughter but is as plainly furnished: a bed, a small wooden shelf full of books, an armchair beside the bed, a plain wooden chair against the wall, a round table, and a large safe.

You walk slowly around and examine each and all of them with the keenest interest. “What’s in here?” you ask, tapping the safe.

“My stepfather’s business papers.”

“Have you seen inside, then?”

“Only once, some years ago. I remember that it was full of papers.”

“There isn’t a cat in it, for example?”

“No. What a strange idea!”

“Well, look at this.” You pick up a small saucer of milk from atop the safe.

“No, we don’t keep a cat. But as I mentioned, there is a cheetah and a baboon.”

“Ah, yes, of course. Well, a cheetah is just a big cat, yet a saucer of milk does not go very far in satisfying its wants. There is one point I should wish to determine.” You squat in front of the wooden chair and examine the seat with great attention.

“Thank you. That is quite settled,” you say, rising and putting your lens in your pocket. “Hello! Here is something interesting!”

The object which catches your eye is a small dog lash hung on one corner of the bed. The lash is curled upon itself and tied so as to make a loop of whipcord.

“What do you make of that, Watson?”

“It’s a common enough lash. But I don’t know why it should be tied.”

“That is not quite so common, is it? It’s a wicked world, and when a clever man turns his brains to crime it is the worst of all.”

“There is more I wish to show you,” says Miss Stoner. “Will you have time to see it?”

If you are caught by Dr. Roylott, your investigation will be ruined. Miss Stoner will be in more danger than ever. However, she may yet show you the clue which will explain the entire mystery. You cannot save her without first closing this case. What will you choose to do?