A Study in Scarlet - Part 1, Chapter 4: What John Rance Had to Tell

Episode Transcript

Speaker 1 (00:01):
Part one, Chapter four of A Study in Scarlet presented
by Dream Audio Books. A Study in Scarlet by Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle, Part one, Chapter four. What John Rance
had to tell It was one o'clock when we left
number three Lowston Gardens. Sherlock Holmes led me to the
nearest telegraph office, whence he dispatched a long telegram. He

(00:24):
then hailed a cab and ordered the driver to take
us to the address given us by Lestrade. There is
nothing like first hand evidence, he remarked. As a matter
of fact, my mind is entirely made up upon the case.
But still we may as well learn all that is
to be learned. You amaze me, Holmes said, I surely
you are not as sure as you pretend to be

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of all those particulars which you gave. There's no room
for a mistake, he answered. The very first thing which
I observed on arriving there was that a cab had
made two ruts with its wheels close to the curb. Now,
up to last night we have had no rain for
a week, so that those wheels which left such a
deep impression must have been there during the night. There

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were the marks of the horses hoofs too, the outline
of one of which was far more clearly cut than
that of the other three, showing that that was a
new shoe. Since the cab was there after the rain began,
and was not there at any time during the morning,
I have Gregson's word for that, it follows that it
must have been there during the night, and therefore that
it brought those two individuals to the house. That seems

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simple enough, said I, But how about the other man's height?
Why the height of a man, in nine cases out
of ten, can be told from the length of his stride.
It is a simple calculation enough, though there is no
use my boring you with figures. I had this fellow's
stride both on the clay outside and on the dust within.

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Then I had a way of checking my calculation. When
a man writes on a wall, his instinct leads him
to right above the level of his own eyes. Now
that riding was just over six feet from the ground.
It was child's play and his age. I asked, well,
if a man can stride four and a half feet
without the smallest effort, he can't be quite in the

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sere and yellow. That was the breadth of a puddle
on the garden walk, which he had evidently walked across.
Patent leather boots had gone round and square toes had
hopped over. There is no mystery about it at all.
I am simply applying to ordinary life a few of
those precepts of observation and deduction which I advocated in
that article. Is there anything else that puzzles you? The finger,

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nails and the trickanopoly. I suggested the writing on the
wall was done with a man's forefinger dipped in blood.
My glass allowed me to observe that the plaster was
slightly scratched in doing it, which would not have been
the case if the man's nail had been trimmed. I
gathered up some scattered ash from the floor. It was
dark in color and flaky. Such an ash is only

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made by a trickanopoly. I have made a special study
of cigar ashes. In fact, I have written a monograph
upon the subject. I flatter myself that I can distinguish
at a glance the ash of any known brand, either
of cigar or of tobacco. It is just in such
details that the skilled detective differs from the Gregson and
Lestrade type and the florid face. I asked, Ah, that

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was a more daring shot. Though I have no doubt
that I was right, you must not ask me that
at the present state of the affair, I passed my
hand over my brow. My head is in a whirl,
I remarked. The more one thinks of it, the more
mysterious it grows. How came these two men? If there
were two men into an empty house, what has become

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of the cabman who drove them? How could one man
compel another to take poison? Where did the blood come from?
What was the object of the murderer? Since robbery had
no part in it? How came the woman's ring? There?
Above all, why should the second man ride up the
German word raque before decamping? I confess that I cannot
see any possible way of reconciling all these facts. My

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companion smiled approvingly. You sum up the difficulties of the
situation succeedly and well, he said, There is much that
is still obscure, though I have quite made up my
mind on the main facts. As to poor Lestrade's discovery,
it was simply a blind intended to put the police
upon a wrong track by suggesting socialism and secret societies.

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It was not done by a German. The a, if
you noticed, was printed somewhat after the German fashion. Now
a real German invariably prints in the Latin character, so
that we may safely say that this was not written
by one, but by a clumsy imitator who overdid his part.
It was simply a ruse to divert inquiry into a
wrong channel. I'm not going to tell you much more

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of the case, doctor. You know, a conjurer gets no
credit when once he has explained his trick. And if
I show you too much of my method of working,
you will come to the conclusion that I am a
very ordinary individual. After all, I shall never do that.
I answered, you have brought detection as near an exact
science as it ever will be brought in this world.

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My companion flushed up with pleasure at my words and
the earnest way in which I uttered them. I had
already observed that he was as sensitive to flattery on
the score of his art as any girl could be
of her beauty. I'll tell you one other thing, he said.
Patent leathers and square toes came in the same cab,
and they walked down the pathway together as friendly as possible,

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arm in arm, in all probability. When they got inside,
they walked up and down the room, or rather, patent
leathers stood still while square toes walked up and down.
I could read all that in the dust, and I
could read that as he walked. He grew more and
more excited. That is shown by the increased length of
his strides. He was talking all the while, and working

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himself up, no doubt, into a fury. Then the tragedy occurred.
I've told you all I know myself now, for the
rest is mere surmise and conjecture. We have a good
working basis. However, on which to start. We must hurry up,
for I want to go to Holly's concert to hear
Norman nerooted this afternoon. This conversation had occurred while our

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cab had been threading its way through a long succession
of dingy streets and dreary byways. In the dingiest and
dreariest of them, our driver suddenly came to a stand.
That's oddly court in there, he said, pointing to a
narrow slit in the line of dead colored brick. You'll
find me here when you come back. Audley Court was

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not an attractive locality. The narrow passage led us into
a quadrangle paved with flags and lined by sordid dwellings.
We picked our way among groups of dirty children and
through lines of discolored linen, until we came to number
forty six, the door of which was decorated with a
small slip of brass, on which the name Rance was engraved.

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On inquiry, we found that the Constable was in bed,
and we were shown into a little front parlor to
await his coming. He appeared presently, looking a little irritable
at being disturbed in his slumbers. I made my report
at the office, he said. Holmes took a half sovereign
from his pocket and played with it pensively. We thought

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that we should like to hear it all from your
own lips, he said, I shall be most happy to
tell you anything I can. The Constable answered, with his
eyes upon the little golden disk, just let us hear
it all in your own way. As it occurred, Rance
sat down on the horse hair sofa and knitted his brows,
as though determined not to omit anything in his narrative.

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I'll tell it you from the beginning, he said, My
time is from ten at night to six in the morning.
At eleven there was a fight at the White Hart,
but bar that all was quiet enough on the beat.
At one o'clock it began to rain, and I met
Harry Murcher, him who as the Holland Grove Beat. And
we stood together at the corner of Henrietta Street a
talkin presently, maybe about two or a little laughter. I

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thought I would take a look round and see that
all was right down the Brixton Road. It was precious,
dirty and lonely. Not a soul did I meet all
the way down, though a cavertoo went past me. I
was as strollin down, thinking between ourselves how uncommon handy
a four of gin hot would be, when suddenly the
glint of a light caught my eye in the window

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of that same house. Now I knew that them two
houses and Lariston Gardens was empty on account of him
that owns them, who won't have the drain seed to
though the very last tenant what lived in one of them,
died of typhoid fever. I was knocked all in a heap. Therefore,
at seeing a light in the window, and I suspected
as something was wrong. When I got to the door,

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he stopped and then walked back to the garden gate.
My companion interrupted, what did you do that for? Rance
gave a violent jump and stared at Sherlock Holmes with
the utmost amazement upon his features. Why that's true, sir,
he said, though how you come to know it? Heaven
only knows. Ye. See, when I got up to the door,

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it was so still and so lonesome that I thought
i'd be none the worse for some one with me.
I ain't afeared of anything on this side of the grave,
but I thought that maybe it was him that died
of the typhoid, inspecting the drains what killed him. The
thought gave me a kind of turn, and I walked
back to the gate to see if I could see
Murcher's lantern. But there wasn't no sign of him, nor

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of any one else. There was no one in the street,
not a living soul, sir, nor as much as a dog.
Then I pulled myself together and went back and pushed
the door open. All was quiet inside, so I went
into the room, where the light was a burnin' there
was a candle flickerin on the mantelpiece, a red wax one,

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and by its light I saw, yes, I know all
that you saw. You walked round the room several times,
and you knelt down by the boy, and then you
walked through and tried the kitchen door. And then John
Rance sprang to his feet with a frightened face and
suspicion in his eyes. Where was you hid to see
all that? He cried? It seems to me that you

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knows a deal more than you should. Holmes laughed and
threw his card across the table to the constable. Don't
go arresting me for the murder, he said, I am
one of the hounds and not the wolf. Mister Gregson
or mister Lestrade will answer for that. Go on, though,
what did you do next? Rance resumed his seat, without, however,

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losing his mystified expression. I went back to the gate
and sounded my whistle that brought Murcher and two more
to the spot. Was the street empty? Then? Well it
was as far as anybody that could be of any
good goes. What do you mean? The Constable's features broadened

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into a grin. I've seen many a drunk chap in
my time, he said, but never any one so cryin
drunk as that cove. He was at the gate when
I came out, A leanin up again the railin's an
a singin' at the pitch of his lungs about Columbine's
new fangled banner, or some such stuff. He couldn't stand
far less help. What sort of a man was? He

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asked Sherlock Holmes. John Rance appeared to be somewhat irritated
at this digression. He was an uncommon drunk sort of man,
he said. He'd a found hisself in the station if
we hadn't been so took up his face, his dress.
Didn't you notice them, Holmes broke in impatiently. I should

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think I did notice them, seeing that I had to
prop him up, me and Murcher between us. He was
a long chap with a red face, the lower part
muffled round. That will do, cried Holmes. What became of him?
We'd enough to do without looking after him, the policeman said,
in an aggrieved voice. I'll wager he found his way

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home all right? How is he dressed? A brown overcoat?
Had he a whip in his hand? A whip? No
he must have left it behind, muttered my companion. You
didn't happen to see or hear a cab after that. No,

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there's a half sovereign for you, my companion said, standing
up and taking his hat. I am afraid, Rance that
you will never rise in the force. That head of
yours should be for use as well as ornament. You
might have gained your sergeant's stripes last night. The man
whom you held in your hands is the man who
holds the clue of this mystery and whom we are seeking.

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There is no use of arguing about it now, I
tell you that it is so. Come along, doctor. We
started off for the cab together, leaving our informant incredulous
but obviously uncomfortable, the blundering fool, Holmes said bitterly, as
we drove back to our lodgings. Just to think of
his having such an incomparable bit of good luck and

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not taking advantage of it, I am rather in the dark. Still.
It is true that the description of this man tallies
with your idea of the second party in this mystery.
But why should he come back to the house after
leaving it? That is not the way of criminals, the
ring man, the ring. That was what he came back for.
If we have no other way of catching him, we

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can always bait our line with the ring. I shall
have him, Doctor. I'll lay you two to one that
I have him. I must thank you for it all.
I might not have gone but for you, and so
have missed the finest study I ever came across, A
study in scarlet. Eh, why shouldn't we use a little
art jargon. There's the scarlet thread of murder running through
the colorless skein of life, and our duty is to

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unravel it and isolate it, and expose every inch of it.
And now for lunch, and then for Norman Neruda. Her
attack and her boeing are splendid. What's that little thing
of chopin she plays so magnificently, Lala l lilay. Leaning
back in the cab, this amateur bloodhound caroled away like
a lark while I meditated upon the many sightedness of

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the human mind. End of Part one, Chapter four