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1"Last Monday Mr. Neville St. Clair went into town rather earlier than usual, remarking before he started that he had two
2important commissions to perform, and that he would bring his little boy home a box of bricks. Now, by the merest
3chance, his wife received a telegram upon this same Monday, very shortly after his departure, to the effect that a small
4parcel of considerable value which she had been expecting was waiting for her at the offices of the Aberdeen Shipping
5Company. Now, if you are well up in your London, you will know that the office of the company is in Fresno Street, which
6branches out of Upper Swandam Lane, where you found me to-night. Mrs. St. Clair had her lunch, started for the City, did
7some shopping, proceeded to the company's office, got her packet, and found herself at exactly 4:35 walking through
8Swandam Lane on her way back to the station. Have you followed me so far?" "It is very clear." "If you remember, Monday
9was an exceedingly hot day, and Mrs. St. Clair walked slowly, glancing about in the hope of seeing a cab, as she did not
10like the neighbourhood in which she found herself. While she was walking in this way down Swandam Lane, she suddenly
11heard an ejaculation or cry, and was struck cold to see her husband looking down at her and, as it seemed to her,
12beckoning to her from a second-floor window. The window was open, and she distinctly saw his face, which she describes
13as being terribly agitated. He waved his hands frantically to her, and then vanished from the window so suddenly that it
14seemed to her that he had been plucked back by some irresistible force from behind. One singular point which struck her
15quick feminine eye was that although he wore some dark coat, such as he had started to town in, he had on neither collar
16nor necktie. "Convinced that something was amiss with him, she rushed down the steps--for the house was none other than
17the opium den in which you found me to-night--and running through the front room she attempted to ascend the stairs
18which led to the first floor. At the foot of the stairs, however, she met this Lascar scoundrel of whom I have spoken,
19who thrust her back and, aided by a Dane, who acts as assistant there, pushed her out into the street. Filled with the
20most maddening doubts and fears, she rushed down the lane and, by rare good-fortune, met in Fresno Street a number of
21constables with an inspector, all on their way to their beat. The inspector and two men accompanied her back, and in
22spite of the continued resistance of the proprietor, they made their way to the room in which Mr. St. Clair had last
23been seen. There was no sign of him there. In fact, in the whole of that floor there was no one to be found save a
24crippled wretch of hideous aspect, who, it seems, made his home there. Both he and the Lascar stoutly swore that no one
25else had been in the front room during the afternoon. So determined was their denial that the inspector was staggered,
26and had almost come to believe that Mrs. St. Clair had been deluded when, with a cry, she sprang at a small deal box
27which lay upon the table and tore the lid from it. Out there fell a cascade of children's bricks. It was the toy which
28he had promised to bring home. "This discovery, and the evident confusion which the cripple showed, made the inspector
29realise that the matter was serious. The rooms were carefully examined, and results all pointed to an abominable crime.
30The front room was plainly furnished as a sitting-room and led into a small bedroom, which looked out upon the back of
31one of the wharves. Between the wharf and the bedroom window is a narrow strip, which is dry at low tide but is covered
32at high tide with at least four and a half feet of water. The bedroom window was a broad one and opened from below. On
33examination traces of blood were to be seen upon the windowsill, and several scattered drops were visible upon the
34wooden floor of the bedroom. Thrust away behind a curtain in the front room were all the clothes of Mr. Neville St.
35Clair, with the exception of his coat. His boots, his socks, his hat, and his watch--all were there. There were no signs
36of violence upon any of these garments, and there were no other traces of Mr. Neville St. Clair. Out of the window he
37must apparently have gone for no other exit could be discovered, and the ominous bloodstains upon the sill gave little
38promise that he could save himself by swimming, for the tide was at its very highest at the moment of the tragedy. "And
39now as to the villains who seemed to be immediately implicated in the matter. The Lascar was known to be a man of the
40vilest antecedents, but as, by Mrs. St. Clair's story, he was known to have been at the foot of the stair within a very
41few seconds of her husband's appearance at the window, he could hardly have been more than an accessory to the crime.
42His defence was one of absolute ignorance, and he protested that he had no knowledge as to the doings of Hugh Boone, his
43lodger, and that he could not account in any way for the presence of the missing gentleman's clothes. "So much for the
44Lascar manager. Now for the sinister cripple who lives upon the second floor of the opium den, and who was certainly the
45last human being whose eyes rested upon Neville St. Clair. His name is Hugh Boone, and his hideous face is one which is
46familiar to every man who goes much to the City. He is a professional beggar, though in order to avoid the police
47regulations he pretends to a small trade in wax vestas. Some little distance down Threadneedle Street, upon the
48left-hand side, there is, as you may have remarked, a small angle in the wall. Here it is that this creature takes his
49daily seat, cross-legged with his tiny stock of matches on his lap, and as he is a piteous spectacle a small rain of
50charity descends into the greasy leather cap which lies upon the pavement beside him. I have watched the fellow more
51than once before ever I thought of making his professional acquaintance, and I have been surprised at the harvest which
52he has reaped in a short time. His appearance, you see, is so remarkable that no one can pass him without observing him.
53A shock of orange hair, a pale face disfigured by a horrible scar, which, by its contraction, has turned up the outer
54edge of his upper lip, a bulldog chin, and a pair of very penetrating dark eyes, which present a singular contrast to
55the colour of his hair, all mark him out from amid the common crowd of mendicants and so, too, does his wit, for he is
56ever ready with a reply to any piece of chaff which may be thrown at him by the passers-by. This is the man whom we now
57learn to have been the lodger at the opium den, and to have been the last man to see the gentleman of whom we are in
58quest." "But a cripple!" said I. "What could he have done single-handed against a man in the prime of life?" "He is a
59cripple in the sense that he walks with a limp; but in other respects he appears to be a powerful and well-nurtured man.
60Surely your medical experience would tell you, Watson, that weakness in one limb is often compensated for by exceptional
61strength in the others." "Pray continue your narrative."
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