The Engineer's Thumb

The exciting affair of Mr Hatherley's thumb happened in the summer of 1889, not long after my marriage. I was in practice as a doctor. I often visited my friend Sherlock Holmes at his Baker Street rooms, and I sometimes even managed to persuade him to come and visit my wife and me. My practice had steadily increased, and as I happened to live near Paddington Station, I got a few patients from among the railway workers there. One of these, a guard whom I had cured of a painful disease, was always praising my skill and trying to influence new patients to come to me.

One morning, a little before seven o'clock, I was woken by our servant tapping at the bedroom door. She said that two men had come from Paddington Station and were waiting in my office. I dressed quickly and hurried downstairs. I knew from experience that railway cases were usually serious. Before I had reached the office, my old friend the guard came out and closed the door tightly behind him.

'I've got him here,' he whispered, pointing over his shoulder with his thumb, as if he had caught some strange wild animal for me. 'It's a new patient. I thought I'd bring him here myself, so that he couldn't run away. I must go now, doctor. I have my duties, just as you have.' And he was out of the house before I could thank him.

I entered my office, and found a gentleman seated by the table. He was dressed in a country suit, with a soft cloth cap, which he had put down on top of my books. There was a bloodstained handkerchief wrapped round one of his hands. He was young—not more than twenty-five, I thought. He had a strong face, but he was extremely pale, and seemed to be in a state of unhealthy excitement which he could scarcely control.

'I'm sorry to get you out of bed so early, doctor,' he began. 'But I have had a very serious accident during the night. I came back to London by train this morning, and at Paddington I asked the railway people where I could find a doctor. One good fellow very kindly brought me here. I gave your servant a card, but I see that she has left it over there on the side table.'

I picked it up and looked at it. 'Mr Victor Hatherley,' I read, 'hydraulic engineer, third floor, 16A Victoria Street.' That was the name of my morning visitor.

'I am sorry you have had to wait so long,' I said, sitting down. 'Your night journey must have been dull too.'

'Oh, my experiences during the night could not be called dull!' he said, and laughed. Indeed he roared and shook with unhealthy laughter.

'Stop it!' I cried. 'Control yourself!' I poured out a glass of water for him.

It was useless, however. He went on laughing for some time. When at last he stopped he was very tired and ashamed.

'It was stupid of me to laugh like that,' he said in a weak voice.

'Not at all.' I poured some brandy into the water. 'Drink this!'

Soon the colour began to return to his pale face. 'That's better!' he said. 'And now, doctor, would you mind attending to my thumb, or rather to the place where my thumb used to be?'

He took off the handkerchief and held out his hand. It was a terrible sight, and although I had been an Army doctor I could hardly bear to look at it. Instead of a thumb there was only an uneven, swollen red surface. The thumb had been completely cut—or torn—off.

'Good heavens!' I cried. 'This is a terrible wound. It must have bled a great deal.'

'Yes, it did. I fainted when it happened; and I think I must have been unconscious for a long time. When I returned to consciousness, I found that it was still bleeding. So I tied one end of my handkerchief very tightly round the wrist, and used a small piece of wood to make it even tighter.'

'Excellent! You should have been a doctor.'

'I'm a hydraulic engineer, you see: the force of liquids is my subject.'

'This has been done,' I said, examining the wound, 'by a very sharp, heavy instrument.'

'An axe,' he said.

'It was an accident, I suppose?'

'No!'

'Was somebody trying to murder you, then?'

'Yes.'

'How terrible!'

I cleaned the wound and bandaged it. He did not cry out as I worked on his hand, though he bit his lip from time to time.

'How are you feeling now?' I asked, when I had finished.

'I feel fine! Your brandy and your bandage have made me feel like a new man. I was very weak, but I have had some terrible experiences.'

'Perhaps you had better not speak of the matter. It disturbs you too much.'

'Oh no! Not now. I shall have to tell everything to the police. But really, if I did not have this wound, the police might not believe my statement. It is a very extraordinary story and I have not much proof of it. And I doubt whether justice will ever be done, because I can give the detectives so few clues.'

'In that case,' I said, 'I strongly advise you to see my friend Sherlock Holmes before you go to the police.'

'Oh, I have heard of Mr Holmes,' said my visitor, 'and I should be very glad if he would look into the matter, though of course I must inform the police as well. Would you give me an introduction to him?'

'I'll do better than that. I'll take you round to him myself.'

'You're very kind.'

'We'll call a cab and go together. We shall arrive just in time to have a little breakfast with him. Do you feel strong enough to go out?'

'Oh yes! I shall not feel comfortable in my mind until I have told my story.'

'Then my servant will call a cab, and I shall be with you in an instant.' I rushed upstairs and quickly explained everything to my wife. Five minutes later Mr Hatherley and I were in a cab on our way to Baker Street.

As I had expected, Sherlock Holmes was in his sitting room, reading the small personal advertisements in The Times and smoking his pipe. For this early-morning smoke he used all the half-smoked lumps of tobacco from the day before, all carefully dried and collected together. He welcomed us in his usual quiet, pleasant way, and ordered extra food for us. Then we all sat round the table and had a good breakfast. When we had finished, Holmes made Mr Hatherley lie down on the sofa with a glass of brandy and water within reach.

'It is easy to see that your experience has been an extraordinary and terrible one, Mr Hatherley,' he said. 'Please lie down there and make yourself absolutely at home. Tell us what you can, but stop and have a drink when you are tired.'

'Thank you,' said my patient, 'but I have been feeling quite fresh since the doctor bandaged me, and I think that your excellent breakfast has completed the cure. So I will begin the story of my peculiar experiences at once.'

Holmes sat down in his big armchair. As usual, the sleepy expression on his face, and his half-closed eyes, hid his eagerness. I sat opposite him, and we listened in silence to the strange story our visitor told.

'My parents are dead,' he said, 'and I am unmarried. I live alone in lodgings in London. By profession I am a hydraulic engineer, and have had seven years of training with Venner and Matheson, the well-known hydraulic engineers, of Greenwich. I completed my training two years ago. Not long before, my father had died and I received some of his money. So I decided to go into business independently, and took an office in Victoria Street.

'The first few years of independent practice are often disappointing. I myself have had an extremely disappointing start. In two years I have had only three or four clients and have earned only twenty-seven pounds. Every day, from nine o'clock in the morning until four in the afternoon, I waited in my little office, until at last I began to lose heart. I thought that I would never get any work.

'Yesterday, however, just as I was thinking of leaving the office, my clerk came in to say that a gentleman was waiting to see me on business. He brought in a card, too, with the name "Captain Lysander Stark" printed on it. The Captain followed him into the room almost at once. He was a tall, thin man. I do not think I have ever seen a thinner man than Captain Stark. He had a sharp nose and the skin of his face was drawn very tight over the bones. And yet his thinness did not seem to be the result of any disease. His back was straight and his eyes were bright. He was plainly but neatly dressed, and seemed to be about thirty-five or forty years old.

'"Mr Hatherley?" he said, and I thought he sounded like a German. "You have been recommended to me, Mr Hatherley, not only as an excellent engineer, but also as a man who can keep a secret."

'This polite remark pleased me. I bowed. "May I ask who it was who spoke so favourably of me?" I said.

'"Well, perhaps I had better not tell you that just now. I have also heard that your parents are dead, and that you are unmarried and live alone in London."

'"That is quite correct," I answered. "But I do not see what connection these things have with my professional ability. My clerk told me that you wished to speak to me about a professional matter."

'"Yes, certainly. But everything I have said is important. I have work for you, but absolute secrecy is quite essential—absolute secrecy. And of course we can expect greater secrecy from a man who is alone in the world than from one who lives with his family."

'"If I promise to keep a secret," I said, "you can trust me to do so."

'He looked at me with great suspicion as I spoke. "You do promise, then?" he said at last.

'"Yes, I promise."

'"You promise absolute and complete silence, both before and after doing the work? You promise not to mention the matter at all, either in speech or in writing?"

'"I have already given you my word."

'"Very good." He suddenly sprang up, rushed across the room, and threw open the door. The passage outside was empty.

'"That's all right," he said, coming back. "I know that clerks are sometimes curious about their masters' affairs. Now we can talk in safety." He drew up his chair very close to mine, and once again began looking suspiciously and thoughtfully at me.

'I did not like this. I was beginning to feel impatient with my strange client.

'"Please tell me why you have come to see me, sir," I said. "My time is of value." Of course this was not really true!

'"Would fifty pounds for a night's work suit you?" he asked.

'"Yes, very well indeed!"

'"I said a night's work, but in fact the work would hardly take an hour. I merely want your opinion about a hydraulic press which is not working properly. If you show us what is wrong we shall soon be able to put it right ourselves. Are you willing to do it?"

'"Yes, I am," I said. "The work appears to be light and the pay extremely generous."

'"Yes. We want you to come tonight, by the last train."

'"Where to?" I asked.

'"To Eyford, in Berkshire. It is a little village about seven miles from Reading. There is a train from Paddington which would bring you there at about a quarter past eleven."

'"Very good."

'"I will come to Eyford Station in a carriage to meet you."

'"Do you live far from the station, then?" I asked.

'"Yes, our house is quite out in the country—more than seven miles away."

'"Then we shall not reach your house before midnight. I suppose there are no trains back from Eyford to London in the middle of the night. I should have to sleep at your house."

'"Oh yes, we can easily give you a bed."

'"That is not very convenient. Couldn't I come at some other time?"

'"We have decided that the night is the best time. The unusually high pay will be your reward for the inconvenience. But of course you are perfectly free to refuse the work if you wish."

'I thought of the fifty pounds—I thought how very useful the money would be to me. "I do not want to refuse," I said. "I will do whatever you want. But I should like to understand a little more clearly what it is you wish me to do."

'"Of course. I will explain everything to you. But it is very secret. Are you quite sure that nobody can hear what we are saying?"

'"Quite sure," I replied.

'"Then I will explain. A few years ago I bought a house and a small piece of land, about ten miles from Reading. I discovered that the soil in one of my fields contained fuller's earth. Fuller's earth, as you probably know, is a valuable substance, and is only found in one or two places in England. Unfortunately, however, the amount of fuller's earth in my field was rather small. But to the right and left of it, in fields belonging to my neighbours, there were much larger quantities of the substance. My neighbours had no idea that their land was as valuable as a gold mine. Naturally it was in my interest to buy their land before they discovered its true value; but unfortunately I had no capital with which to do this. I told the secret to a few of my friends, however, and they suggested that we should quietly and secretly dig out our own small quantity of fuller's earth; and that in this way we should earn enough money to buy the neighbouring fields. We have been working secretly like this for some time. One of the machines we use is a hydraulic press. This press, as I have already explained, is not working properly, and we want your advice on the subject. We guard our secret very carefully, however, and if our neighbours found out that a hydraulic engineer had visited our little house, our discovery about the fuller's earth would not be a secret any longer and we should have no chance at all of buying those fields and carrying out our plans. That is why I have made you promise me that you will not tell a single human being that you are going to Eyford tonight. Do you understand?"

'"Yes," I answered. "But one point that I do not quite understand is this: how can a hydraulic press be of any use to you in digging fuller's earth out of the ground?"

'"Ah!" he said carelessly, "we have our own special way. We use the hydraulic press to turn the fuller's earth into bricks—so that we can remove the substance without letting the neighbours know what it is. But that is a mere detail. I have taken you into my confidence now, Mr Hatherley, and have shown you that I trust you." He rose as he spoke. "I shall expect you, then, at Eyford at eleven-fifteen."

'"I will certainly be there."

'"And do not say a word about it to anybody!" He gave me a last long, questioning look, and then, pressing my hand in his own cold, damp one, he hurried from the room.

'Well, gentlemen, when I was alone again, I felt very much astonished at this visitor and his unusual request. Of course I was glad in a way, because the money was at least ten times as much as the ordinary pay for such a piece of work. And it was possible that this opportunity would lead to others. However, the face and manner of my new client had given me a feeling of disgust, and I did not believe that the story of the fuller's earth really explained the necessity for a midnight visit, or the conditions of extreme secrecy that were connected with it. But I managed to forget my fears, ate a large supper, drove to Paddington, and started off for Eyford. I had obeyed all Captain Stark's instructions as to holding my tongue.

'At Reading I had to change stations, and caught the last train to Eyford. I reached the dark little station after eleven o'clock. I was the only passenger who got out there, and the only person at the station was a single sleepy railway man, holding an oil lamp. As I passed through the little gate of the station, however, I found Captain Stark waiting in the shadows on the other side of the road. Without speaking he seized me by the arm and hurried me into a carriage. He pulled up the windows on both sides, tapped on the woodwork as a signal to the driver, and we set off as fast as the horse could go.'

'One horse?' Holmes interrupted.

'Yes, only one.'

'Did you notice what colour it was?'

'Yes, I saw by the light of the carriage lamps as I was stepping in. It was light brown.'

'Was it tired-looking, or fresh?'

'Oh, its coat looked quite fresh.'

'Thank you. I am sorry to have interrupted you. Please continue your very interesting statement.'

'We drove for at least an hour. Captain Stark had said that it was only about seven miles, but the time the journey took and the speed at which we travelled made me think it was really ten or twelve. He sat at my side in silence, looking hard at me all the time. The country roads must have been rather bad, as the carriage shook and moved violently up and down as we went along. I tried to look out of the windows to see where we were, but they were made of painted glass and I could see nothing except occasional faint lights. Now and then I spoke to the Captain but he answered only "Yes" or "No" and the conversation went no further. At last, however, the shaking of the carriage stopped, and we drove over a smooth private road: our journey was over. Captain Stark sprang out, and, as I followed, pulled me quickly through the open front door of the house. We stepped right out of the carriage into the hall, so that I was quite unable to get any idea of what the outside of the house looked like. As soon as I was inside the house the door was shut violently behind us, and I heard the faint sound of wheels as the carriage drove away.

'It was completely dark inside the house, and the Captain began looking for matches, talking to himself as he did so. Suddenly a door opened at the other end of the passage, and a golden line of light appeared. It grew broader, and I saw a woman with a lamp, which she held above her head, pushing her face forward to look at us. I could see that she was pretty, and richly dressed. She said a few words, as though asking a question, in a foreign language, and when my companion answered with a single cold word his reply gave her such a shock that she nearly dropped the lamp. Captain Stark went up to her, whispered something in her ear, and pushed her back into the room she had come out of. Then he walked back towards me with the lamp in his hand, and opened the door of another room.

'"Please be kind enough to wait in this room for a few minutes," he said.

'It was a small, plainly-furnished room, with a round table in the centre. There were several German books scattered on this table. The Captain put the lamp down on a smaller table by the door. "I will not keep you waiting long," he said, and disappeared into the darkness.

'I looked at the books on the table, and although I do not understand German I could see that two of them were on scientific subjects. The others were books of poetry. Then I walked across to the window, hoping to see a little of the surroundings of the house. But strong heavy boards were fastened across the window on the outside. It was an extraordinarily silent house. The only sound came from an old clock somewhere in the passage. I felt myself becoming more and more anxious. Who were these German people, and what were they doing, living in this strange, out-of-the-way place? And where was the place? I only knew that it was ten or twelve miles from Eyford, but I had no idea whether it was north, south, east, or west. Of course Reading, and possibly other large towns, were about the same distance away. Yet the complete stillness made it clear that Captain Stark's house was right out in the country. I walked anxiously up and down the room, singing to myself under my breath to give myself courage, and feeling that I was thoroughly earning my fifty pounds!

'Then, without a sound, the door of the room swung slowly open, and I saw the woman standing there. Behind her was the darkness of the hall, and the yellow light from my lamp shone on her eager and beautiful face. It was easy to see that she was in a state of extreme fear, and my own blood seemed to turn to ice at the sight. She held up one shaking finger to warn me to be silent. Her eyes, as she looked back into the dark passage, were like those of a frightened horse.

'"You must go away!" she whispered, with an effort to speak calmly. "There is no good here for you to do."

'"But I have not yet done what I came to do. I cannot possibly leave until I have seen the machine."

'"You will gain nothing by staying," she went on. "You can pass through the door; nobody can prevent you." And then, seeing that I only smiled and shook my head, she suddenly gave up her attempt to speak calmly, and took a step forward. "For the love of Heaven!" she said, stretching out her hands towards me, "get away from here before it is too late!"

'But it is not easy to make me change my mind, and difficulties merely encourage me in the course I have chosen. I thought of my fifty pounds, of the tiring journey I had just made, and of the unpleasant night that was just beginning. Must all this be completely wasted? Why should I run away without carrying out my client's orders, and without receiving my pay for the night's work? It was possible that this woman was mad! Though her warning had worried me, I still shook my head firmly, and said I would stay. She would have gone on trying to persuade me, but just then we heard the noisy closing of a door upstairs, and the sound of footsteps on the stairs. She listened for an instant, threw up her hands in despair, and then disappeared as suddenly and silently as she had come.

'When Captain Stark came back into the room there was another man with him. This second man was short and fat, with a beard like a goat's growing out of the folds of his round face. The Captain introduced him to me as Mr Ferguson.

'"Mr Ferguson is my secretary and manager," said the Captain. Then he gave me a suspicious look and said: "Mr Hatherley, I had the idea that I left this door shut just now."

'"Yes," I replied, "but the room seemed a little close, and so I opened the door to let some air in."

'"Well, perhaps we had better begin our business now. Mr Ferguson and I will take you up to see the machine."

'"I had better put my hat on, I suppose," I said.

'"Oh no, it is in the house."

'"What! Do you dig fuller's earth in the house?"

'"No, no. This is only where we press it into bricks. But never mind that! All we wish you to do is to examine the machine and to let us know what is wrong with it."

'We went upstairs together, the Captain first with the lamp, the fat manager and myself behind him. It was the kind of old house in which it would be easy to get lost—full of passages, narrow winding staircases, and little low doors. There were no floor coverings, and above the ground floor there seemed to be no furniture at all. The plaster was coming off the walls, and the damp was breaking through in ugly green stains. I tried to appear calm and cheerful, but I had not forgotten the warnings of the lady, and watched my two companions anxiously. Ferguson appeared to be a bad-tempered and silent man, but I could tell from his voice that he was at least a fellow-Englishman.

'At last Captain Stark stopped outside a low door, which he unlocked. The room inside was small and square—so small, in fact, that the three of us could hardly have gone inside at the same time. Ferguson remained outside, and I went in with the Captain.

'"We are now," he said, "actually inside the hydraulic press, and it would be extremely unpleasant for us if anyone turned it on. The ceiling of this little room is really the moving part of the press, and it comes down with very great force on this metal floor. The machine still works, but there is some stiffness in it and it has lost some of its power. I should like you to examine it, please, and to show us how we can put it right."

'I took the lamp from him, and examined the machine very thoroughly. It was certainly a very large and powerful one. When I went back outside, however, and pressed down the handles that controlled it, I could tell from the soft whistling sound that there was a slight escape of water from one part into another. This was the explanation of the loss of pressure. A further examination showed that one of the rubber bands in the press had become worn and thin, and was the cause of the escape of water. I pointed this out to my companions, who listened very carefully to what I said, and asked several practical questions as to what they should do to put the trouble right. When I had made it clear to them, I went back inside the machine, and had another good look at it—to satisfy my own curiosity. I realized that the story of the fuller's earth was a complete lie: it was impossible to believe that such a powerful machine could be intended for such a purpose. The walls were made of wood, but the floor was like a kind of iron bath. When I examined this more closely I saw that it was coated with another sort of metal, ground down to powder. I had bent down and was scraping at this to find out exactly what it was, when I heard a few angry words in German and saw the thin face of the Captain looking down at me.

'"What are you doing in there?" he asked.

'I was feeling angry with him myself for telling me lies. "I was admiring your fuller's earth," I said. "I think you ought to have told me the real purpose of your machine before asking me to advise you about it."

'As soon as I had spoken I regretted what I had said. A cold, hard expression came into Captain Stark's face, and I saw that his grey eyes were full of hatred.

'"Very well!" he said. "I will show you everything about the machine!" He took a step backwards, shut the little door and quickly turned the key in the lock. I rushed towards it and pulled at the handle. Then I pushed and kicked at the door, but it held firm. "Captain Stark! Captain Stark!" I shouted. "Let me out!"

'And then suddenly in the silence I heard a sound that seemed to send my heart to my mouth with fear. It was the controlling handles being pressed down, and the slight whistling noise of the water. Captain Stark had turned on the machine. The lamp was still on the iron floor of the press, and by its light I saw that the black ceiling was coming down upon me—slowly and unsteadily, but with enough power to grind and crush me into the floor. With a terrible cry I threw myself against the door, and dragged with my nails at the lock. I begged the Captain to let me out, but the sounds of the machinery drowned my cries. The ceiling was now only a foot or two above my head, and by raising my arm I could feel its hard rough surface. Then the thought struck me that the pain of my death would depend very much upon the position of my body at the last moment. If I lay on my face the weight would come on my backbone, and I trembled to think of the terrible sound of my own back breaking. Perhaps it would be easier the other way—yet had I enough courage to lie and look up at that fearful black shadow as it came nearer and nearer? Already I was unable to stand up, when I noticed something that brought hope back to my heart.

'I have said that though the floor and the ceiling were made of iron, the walls of the press were wooden. As I gave a last despairing look around, I saw a thin line of yellow light between two of the boards; and this light became broader and broader as a small door was pushed backwards. For an instant I could hardly believe that here indeed was a door that led away from death. The next instant I threw myself through, and lay half fainting upon the other side. The door had closed again behind me, but the crash of the lamp as the ceiling struck it, and a few moments afterwards the sound of the top and bottom of the press meeting, made me realize what a narrow escape I had had.

'Suddenly, as I lay outside the press, I felt somebody pulling at my wrist, and I saw that I was on the stone floor of a narrow passage, and a woman with an oil lamp in her hand was bending over me. It was the same good friend whose earlier warning I had so foolishly failed to take seriously.

'"Come! Come!" she cried. "They will be here in a moment. They will see that you are not there. Oh, do not waste the precious time, but come with me!"

'This time, at least, I took her advice. Unsteadily, I stood up, and ran with her along the passage and down a winding staircase. This led to another broad passage, and, just as we reached it, we heard the sound of running feet and the shouting of two voices—one answering the other—from the floor where we were, and from the one below. My guide stopped and looked about her as if she did not know what to do. Then she threw open a door which led into a bedroom, through the window of which the moon was shining brightly.

'"It is your only chance," she said. "The window is high up, but perhaps you can jump out."

'As she spoke a light appeared at the other end of the passage, and I saw the thin figure of Captain Stark rushing forward with a lamp in one hand, and a weapon—a kind of meat axe—in the other. I rushed across the bedroom, threw open the window, and looked out. How quiet and pleasant the garden looked in the moonlight! It was about thirty feet down. I climbed out, but hesitated to jump, as I wished to hear what was about to happen between Stark and the lady who had saved me from death. If it were necessary I was determined at any risk to return and help her. This thought had hardly flashed through my mind before he was at the door, pushing his way past her; but she threw her arms round him, and tried to hold him back.

'"Fritz! Fritz! Remember your promise after the last time!" she cried in English. "You said it would never happen again. He will hold his tongue! Oh, he will hold his tongue!"

'"You are mad, Elise!" he shouted, struggling to break away from her. "You will be the ruin of us. He has seen too much. Let me pass, I say!" He pushed her to one side, rushed to the window, and struck at me with his heavy weapon. At that moment I was hanging by my hands to the window sill. I was conscious of a dull pain, and the blow made me let go. I fell into the garden below.

'I was not much hurt by the fall; so I got to my feet and rushed off among the bushes as fast as I could run—I knew that I was not out of danger yet. Suddenly, however, as I ran, I began to feel sick and faint. I looked down at my hand, which by now was really painful, and saw for the first time that my thumb had been cut off, and that blood was pouring from the wound. I attempted to tie my handkerchief round it, but suddenly I seemed to hear a strange singing noise in my ears, and the next moment I fainted and fell.

'I do not know how long I remained unconscious. It must have been a very long time, as it was daybreak when I woke up. My clothes were wet through, and my coat was covered in blood from my wounded hand. The pain reminded me of all the details of my midnight adventure, and I sprang to my feet with the feeling that even now I might not be safe from my enemies. But, to my astonishment, when I looked about me I could see neither the house nor the garden. I had been lying almost at the side of a country road, and not far off I saw a long low building. I walked along towards this, and found that it was the little railway station where I had arrived the night before! Except for the ugly wound on my hand, everything that had happened during those terrible hours might have been an evil dream.

'Still in a half-fainting condition, I went into the station, and asked about the morning train. There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The same railway man was on duty as at the time of my arrival. I asked him whether he had ever heard of Captain Lysander Stark. The name was strange to him. Had he noticed a carriage waiting for me the night before? No, he had not. Was there a police station anywhere near? There was one two or three miles away.

'It was too far for me to go, in my weak state. I decided to wait until I got back to London before telling my story to the police. It was about half-past six when I arrived, and I went first to have my wound bandaged. After that, the doctor very kindly brought me along here. I should like to put the case into your hands, and will do exactly what you advise.'

Sherlock Holmes and I sat in silence for some moments after listening to this extraordinary account. Then Holmes pulled down from a shelf one of the thick, heavy books in which it was his habit to stick pieces from the newspapers.

'Here is an advertisement that will interest you,' he said. 'It appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this:— "Lost on the 9th of this month, Mr Jeremiah Hayling, 26 years old, a hydraulic engineer. He left his lodgings at ten o'clock at night, and has not been heard of since. He was dressed in—" and so on. Yes! That must have been the last time the Captain needed to have his hydraulic press repaired, I think.'

'Good heavens!' cried my patient. 'Then that explains what the woman said.'

'I have no doubt of it,' said Holmes. 'It is quite clear that the Captain is a determined and merciless man, who would not allow anything or anybody to stand in his way. Well, every moment now is precious, and so, if you feel strong enough, Mr Hatherley, we will go along to Scotland Yard and then to Eyford.'

Two or three hours later we were all in the train together, on our way from Reading to the little Berkshire village. There were Sherlock Holmes, the hydraulic engineer, Bradstreet the Scotland Yard detective, another policeman, and myself. Bradstreet had spread a large-scale map of the Eyford district out on the seat, and was busy drawing a circle with Eyford for its centre.

'There!' he said. 'That circle is twenty miles across—ten miles from Eyford in every direction. The place we want must be somewhere near that line. You said ten miles, I think, sir?'

'The drive took more than an hour,' said Mr Hatherley.

'And you think that they brought you back all that way while you were unconscious?'

'They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having been lifted and carried somewhere.'

'I can't understand why they didn't kill you when they found you lying unconscious in the garden,' I said. 'Perhaps the woman begged Stark to let you go, and succeeded in softening his cruelty.'

'I don't think that very probable,' Hatherley answered. 'I never saw a more merciless face than his in my life.'

'Oh, we shall soon find an explanation for all that,' said Bradstreet. 'Well, I have drawn my circle, but I wish I knew at which point upon it the wanted men are to be found.'

'I think I could put my finger on the right point,' said Holmes quietly.

'Really?' cried Bradstreet. 'So you have formed your opinion? Well, then, we shall see who agrees with you. I say it is to the south, as there are very few houses in that direction.'

'And I say east,' said my patient.

'I think it is to the west,' said the second policeman. 'There are several quiet little villages up there.'

'And I think it is to the north,' I said, 'because there are no hills there, and Mr Hatherley says that he did not notice the carriage going up any.'

Bradstreet laughed. 'So we have opinions for north, south, east, and west. Which of our opinions do you agree with, Mr Holmes?'

'I don't agree with any of them,' Holmes answered.

'But we can't all be wrong!'

'Oh, yes, you can! This is my point,' he said, placing his finger on the centre of the circle. 'This is where we shall find them.'

'But how do you explain the ten-mile drive?' asked Hatherley in surprise.

'Five miles out and five back. Nothing could be simpler. You said yourself that the horse was quite fresh when you got in. That would be completely impossible if the horse had just gone ten miles over rough roads."

'Yes,' said Bradstreet thoughtfully. 'It's quite a likely explanation. Of course it is not difficult to guess what kind of gang this is.'

'Yes,' said Holmes. 'They are forgers of coins on a large scale. The hydraulic press is used to form the mixture of metals with which they imitate silver.'

'We have known for some time that a clever gang was at work,' said Bradstreet. 'They have made many thousands of false silver coins. We even had clues which led to Reading. But we could get no further—they had covered their tracks too cleverly. But now I think they are about to fall into our hands.'

But Bradstreet was mistaken. Those criminals never fell into the hands of the police. As our train came into Eyford Station we saw a broad line of smoke rising into the air behind some trees in the neighbourhood of the village, and hanging like black feathers high up in the sky.

'Is there a house on fire?' Bradstreet asked as soon as we had got out.

'Yes, sir,' said the stationmaster.

'When did the fire break out?'

'I hear that it was during the night, sir, but it has got worse, and by now the house is almost completely destroyed.'

'Whose house is it?'

'Doctor Becher's.'

'Tell me,' Hatherley interrupted, 'is Doctor Becher a German, very thin, with a long sharp nose?'

The stationmaster laughed heartily. 'No, sir, Doctor Becher is an Englishman, and he's the fattest man in the village. But he has a gentleman staying with him—one of his patients, I believe—who is a foreigner, and he is extremely thin.'

The stationmaster had not finished speaking before we were all hurrying in the direction of the fire. In front of us on a low hill there was a large white house. Smoke and flames were coming out of every window, while in the garden in front three fire engines were attempting, in vain, to control the fire.

'That's the house!' cried Hatherley in great excitement. 'There are the bushes where I lay, and that second window is the one that I jumped from.'

'Well, at least,' said Holmes, 'you have had your revenge upon the gang. I have no doubt that it was your oil lamp which, when it was crushed in the press, set fire to the wooden walls—though no doubt Stark and Ferguson were too excited by their hunt for you to notice it at the time. Now keep your eyes open in this crowd for those two men—though I fear that by now they are almost at the other end of England.'

And Holmes was right in his guess. From that day to this nothing has ever been heard of the beautiful woman, the merciless German, or the bad-tempered, silent Englishman. Early that morning a farmer had met a cart, containing several people and some very large boxes. They were driving fast in the direction of Reading. But the gang left no further signs, and even Holmes himself failed to discover any clues.

We learnt that the firemen had found a human thumb, recently cut off, on a window sill on the second floor of the house. At about sunset they succeeded in putting the fire out, but by that time the roof had fallen in, and almost nothing remained of the forgers' machinery inside the house. Large masses of tin and other metals were found in a building behind the house, but it was clear that the criminals had taken their stocks of false coins away with them in the boxes.

The mystery of how Mr Hatherley had been carried from the garden to the roadside was quickly solved when Holmes found a double line of footprints in the soft earth. The engineer had been carried out by two people, one of whom had very small feet, and the other unusually large ones. On the whole, it was most probable that the silent Englishman—less bold or less merciless than the German Captain—had helped the woman to carry the unconscious man out of the way of danger.

'Well,' said Hatherley a little sadly, 'it has been a strange affair for me! I have lost my thumb, and I have lost fifty pounds in pay, and what have I gained?'

'You have gained experience,' said Holmes, laughing. 'And you have now got a true and interesting story of your own, which you will be able to tell every day for the rest of your life!'