Sherlock Homes: The Man with the Twisted Lip - Part 2

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Part 2 of Sherlock Holmes and the Twisted Lip

Beyond they another dull wilderness of bricks and mortar is silence broken only by the heavy

regular footfall of the policeman or the songs and the shouts of some belated party of

revelers. A dull rack was drifting slowly across the sky and a star or two twinkled dimly

here or there through the riffs of the clouds. Holmes drove in silence with his head sunk upon his

breast and the air of a man who was lost in thought. While I supersonic him here is to learn what

his new quest might be which seemed to tax his powers so sorely and yet afraid to break in a

polymer current of his thoughts. We had driven several miles and were beginning to get to the fringe

of the belt or suburban feathers when he shook himself, shrugged his shoulders and lit up his pipe

with the air of a man who was satisfied that he was acting for the best.

You have a grand gift of silence Watson sent he, it makes you quite invaluable as a companion

upon my word. It is a great thing for me to have someone to talk to for my own thoughts

or not overpresent. I was wondering what I should say to this dear little woman tonight when she

meets me at the door. You forget that I know nothing about it. I shall just have time to tell you

the facts of the case before we get to leave. It seems absurdly simple and yet somehow I can get

nothing to go upon. There's plenty of thread no doubt but I can't get the end of it into my hand.

Now I'll state the case clearly and concisely to you Watson and maybe you can see a spark

where all is dark to me. Proceed then said Watson. Some years ago to be definite in May 1884

there came to Lee a gentleman, never sent Claire by name who appeared to have plenty of money.

He took a large villa, laid out the grounds very nicely and lived generally in good style.

By degrees he made friends in the neighborhood and in 1887 he married the daughter of a local brewer

by whom he is now two children. He had no occupation but was interested in several companies.

And went into the town as a rule in the morning returning by 514 from Cannon Street every night.

Mr. St. Claire is now 37 years of age is a man of temperate habits a good husband a very affectionate

father and a man who is popular with all who know him. I may add that his horn deaths at the

present moment as far as we have been able to ascertain amount to 88 pounds and 10 shillings.

While he has 222 pounds standing to his credit in the capital and county's bank.

There is no reason therefore to think that many troubles have been way upon his mind.

Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Claire went into town rather earlier than usual,

remarking before he started that he had two important commissions to before.

And that he would bring his little boy home a box of bricks.

Now by the nearest chance his wife received a telegram upon at the same Monday.

Very shortly after his departure, did the effect that a small parcel of considerable value

which he had been expecting was waiting for her at the offices of the Aberdeen

shipping company. Now if you are well up in your London you will know that the office of the

company is in Fresno Street which broodges out to Upper Swander9 where you found me tonight.

Mrs. St. Claire had a lunch, started for the city, did some shopping, proceeded to the company's

office, got her packet and found herself at exactly 435 walking through Swander9 on her way

back to the station. Have you followed me so far? It is very clear, Sir Watson.

If you remember, sometimes, Monday was an exceedingly hot day and Mrs. St. Claire walked slowly,

glancing about in the hope of seeing a cam that she did not like the neighborhood in which she found

herself. While she was walking this way down Swander9, she suddenly heard an exclamation of cry

and was struck cold to see her husband looking down at her and as it seemed to her,

backening to her from a second floor window. The window was open and she distinctly saw his face

which she describes as being terribly agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her and then

vanished from the window so suddenly that it seemed to her that he had been plucked back by some

irresistible force from behind. One singular point which struck her quick feminine eyes

was that although he wore some dark coat, such as he had started to in town, he had on neither

corner nor necktie. Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down the steps

for the house was none other than the opian den in which she found a meter night and running

through the front room. She attempted to ascend the stairs which led to the first floor.

Other foot of the stairs however, she met this discard scoundrel of whom I have spoken,

who thrust her back and ended by a dain who acts as assistant there, pushed her out into the street.

Filled with the most maddening doubts and fears, she rushed down the lane and by rare good fortune

met in Fresno Street a number of constables with an inspector all on their way to their beat.

The inspector and two men accompanied her back and in spite of the continued resistance

of the proprietor, they made their way to the room in which Mr Sinclair had last been seen.

There was no sign of him there, in fact in the hall of that floor there was no one to be found

save a crippled wretch of hideous aspect, who it seems made his home there, both he and that a

skull stoutly swore that no one else had been in the front room during the afternoon.

So determined was there denial, though the inspector was staggered and almost came to believe

that Mrs Sinclair had been deluded, when with a cry she sprang at a small deal box which

lay upon the table and tore the lid from it. Out there fell a cascade of children's bricks,

it was the toy which he had promised to bring home.

This discovery and the evident confusion which the cripple showed made the inspector realize

that the matter was serious. The rooms were carefully examined and results all pointed to an

abominable crime. The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting room and led into a small

bedroom which looked out upon the back of one of the walls. Between the wall and the bedroom

window is a narrow strip which is dry at low tide but is covered at high tide with at least

four and a half feet of water. The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below.

On examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the window sill and several scattered

drops were visible upon the wooden floor of the bedroom. The rest and way behind a curtain

in the front room were all the clothes of Mr. Neville Sinclair with the exception of his coat,

his boots, his socks, his hat and his watch, all were there. There were no signs of

violence upon any of these garments and there were no traces of Mr. Neville Sinclair.

Out of the window he must apparently have gone for no other exit could be discovered

and the ominous blood stains upon the sill gave a little promise that he could save himself

by swimming for the tide was that it's very highest at the moment of the tragedy.

And now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated in the matter,

the last car was known to be a man of the voilest antecedents.

But as by Mrs. Sinclair's story he was known to have been at the foot of the stair

within a very few seconds of our husband's appearance at the window.

He could hardly have been more than an accessory to the crime.

His defence was one of absolute ignorance and he protested that he had no knowledge

as to the doings of Hugh Moon, his nausea and that he could not account in any way for the presence

of the missing gentleman's clothes. So much for the last car manager,

now for the sinister cripple who lives upon the second floor of the opium den and who was certainly

the last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville Sinclair. His name is Hugh Moon and his

India's face is one which is familiar to every man who goes much to the city.

He is a professional mega, though in order to avoid the police regulations,

he pretends to a small trade in waxed vistas. Some little distance down a thread needle street

upon the left hand side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall.

Here it is that this creature takes his daily seat, cross-lined with his tiny stock of matches

on his lap, and as he is a pitiful spectacle, a small reign of charity descends into the greasy

leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him. I have watched the fellow, more than once,

before ever I thought of making his professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised

at the harvest which he has reaped in a short time. His appearance you see is so remarkable

that no one can pass him without observing him. A shock of orange hair, a pale face,

disfigured at my horrible skull, which by its contradiction has turned up the outer

edge of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes,

which present a singular contrast to the colour of his hair, and all mock him out amid the

common crowd of beggars, and so too does his wit, for he is ever ready with a reply to any

piece of chaff which may be thrown at him by the passes by. This is the man whom we now learn

to have been their lodger at the opium den, and to have been the last man to see the gentleman

of whom we are in quest. But a cripple said I, what could he have done single-handed

against a man in the prime of life? He is a cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp,

but in other respects, he appears to be a powerful and well-nergied man.

Surely your medical experience would tell you Watson that weakness in a one limb is often

compensated for my exceptional strength in the others.

Pray, continue your narrative, I said.

And Mrs Sinclair had fainted at the sight of the blood upon the window, and she was escorted

home in a cab by the police, as her presence could be of no help to them in their investigations.

Inspector Barton, who had charge of the case, made a very careful examination of the premises,

but without finding anything which threw any light upon the matter.

One mistake had been made in not arresting Boone instantly, as he was allowed some few minutes

during which he might have communicated with his friend, the Laskar.

But this fault was soon remedied, and he was seized and searched without anything being found,

which could incriminate him. There were, it is true, some blood stains upon his right shirt sleeve,

but he pointed to his ring finger where she'd been cut near the nail, and explained that the bleeding

came from there, adding that he had been to the window not long before, and the stains which had

been observed there came doubtless from the same source. He denied, strenuously, having ever seen

Mr. Neville Sinclair, and saw that the presence of the clouds in his room were as much a mystery

to him as to the police. As to Mrs. Sinclair's assertion that she had actually seen her husband

at the window, he declared that she must have been either mad or dreaming. He was removed,

loudly protesting to the police station, where the inspector remained upon the premises,

in the hope that the Abing Tide might afford some fresh clue.

And it did, though they hardly found upon a mud bank, what they had feared to find.

It was Neville Sinclair's coat, and not Neville Sinclair, which lay uncovered as the tide receded.

And what do you think they found in the pockets?

I can't imagine, said Watson. No, I don't think he would guess. Every pocket stuffed with pennies

and half pennies, 421 pennies, and 270 half pennies. It was no wonder that it had not been

swept away by the tide, but a human body is a different matter. There is a fierce

eddy between the wharf and the house. It seemed unlikely enough, and the weighted coat had remained

when the stripped of the body had been soaked away into the river. But I understand that all the

other clothes were found in the room, with the body be dressed in a coat alone. No sir,

but the facts might be met speciesly enough. Suppose that this man a boon had a thrust

Neville Sinclair through the window. There is no human eye, which could have seen the deed.

What could he do then? It would of course instantly strengthen him that he must get rid of the

tail-tailed garments. He would seize the coat then and be in the act of throwing it out,

when it would occur to him that it would swim and not sink. He had a little time,

that he had heard the scuffle downstairs, when the wife tried to force her way up.

And perhaps he has already heard from his lascar confederate that the police are hurrying

of the street. There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret hall where he has

accumulated the fruits of his beggarine and he stuffs all the coins upon which he can lay his

hands into the pockets to make sure of the coats sinking. He throws it out and would have done the

same with the other garments had not he heard the rush of steps below and only just had time to

close the window when the police appeared. It certainly sounds feasible.

Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for one or the better.

Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the station, but it could not be shown

that there had ever before been anything against him. He had for years been known as a

professional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a very quiet and innocent one.

There the matter stands at present and the questions which have to be solved.

What Neville Sankler was doing in the opian den? What happened to him there?

Where he is now and what he Boone had to do with his disappearance?

Are all as far from a solution as ever? I confess that I cannot recall any case within my experience

which looked at the first glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties.