November 8, 2025 • 49 mins
Solve crimes with the great detective in "Sherlock Holmes Short Stories." Featuring classic tales by Arthur Conan Doyle, this podcast brings you the brilliant deductions and thrilling adventures of Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. Whether you're a longtime fan or new to the world of Holmes, these timeless mysteries will keep you captivated.
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Speaker 1 (00:00):
The adventure of the Solitary Cyclist from the years eighteen
ninety four to nineteen o one inclusive. Mister Sherlock Holmes
was a very busy man. It is safe to say
that there was no public case of any difficulty in
which he was not consulted during those eighty years, and
there were hundreds of private cases, some of them at
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the most intricate and extraordinary character, in which he played
a prominent part. Many startling successes and a few unavoidable
failures were the outcome of this long period of continuous work.
As I have preserved very full notes of all these cases,
and was myself personally engaged in many of them, it
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may be imagined that it is no easy task to
know which I should select to lay before the public.
I shall, however, preserve my former rule and give the
preference to those cases which derive their interest not so
much from the brutality of the crime as from the
ingenuity and dramatic quality of the solution. For this reason,
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I will now lay before the reader the facts connected
with Miss Violet Smith, the Solitary Cyclist of Charlington, and
a curious sequel of our investigation, which culminated in unexpected tragedy.
It is true that the circumstance did not admit of
any striking illustration of those powers for which my friend
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was famous. But there were some points about the case
which made it stand out in those long records of
crime from which I gather the material for these little narratives.
On referring to my note book for the year eighteen
ninety five, I find that it was upon Saturday, the
twenty third of April, that we first heard of miss
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Violet Smith. Her visit was, I remember, extremely unwelcome to Holmes,
for he was immersed at the moment in a very
abstruse and complicated problem conceers earning the peculiar persecution to
which John Vincent Harden, the well known tobacco millionaire, had
been subjected. My friend, who loved above all things precision
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and concentration of thought, resented anything which distracted his attention
from the matter in hand. And yet without a harshness
which was foreign to his nature, it was impossible to
refuse to listen to the story of the young and
beautiful woman, tall, graceful and queenly, who presented herself at
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Baker Street late in the evening and implored his assistance
and advice. It was vain to urge that his time
was already fully occupied, for the young lady had come
with a determination to tell her story, and it was
evident that nothing short of force could get her out
of the room until she had done so. With a
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resigned air and a somewhat weary smile, Holmes begged the
beautiful intruder to take a seat and to form us
what it was that was troubling her. At least, it
cannot be your health, said he, as his keen eyes
darted over her so ardent. A bicyclist must be full
of energy. She glanced down in surprise at her own feet,
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and I observed the slight roughening of the side of
the soul caused by the friction of the edge of
the pedal. Yes, I bicycle a good deal, mister Holmes,
and that has something to do with my visit to
you to day. My friend took the lady's ungloved hand
and examined it with as close an attention and as
little sentiment as a scientist would show to a specimen.
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You will excuse me, I am sure it is my business,
said he, as he dropped it. I nearly fell into
the error of supposing that you were typewriting. Of course,
it is obvious that it is music. You observe the
spatulate finger ends Watson, which is common to both professions.
There is a spirituality about the face. However, she gently
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turned it towards the light, which the typewriter does not generate.
This lady is a musician, yes, mister Holmes, I teach
music in the country, I presume from your complexion, Yes, sir.
Near Farnham on the borders of Surrey, a beautiful neighborhood
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and full of the most interesting associations. You remember, Watson,
that it was near there that we took Archie Stamford,
the forger. Now, miss Violet, what has happened to you?
Near Farnham on the borders of Surrey. The young lady,
with great clearness and composure, made the following curious statement.
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My father is dead, mister Holmes. He was James Smith,
who conducted the orchestra at the old Imperial Theater. My
mother and I were left without a relation in the
world except one uncle, Ralph Smith, who went to Africa
twenty five years ago, and we've never had a word
from him since when father died we were left very poor.
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But one day we were told that there was an
advertisement in the Times inquiring for our whereabouts. You can
imagine how excited we were, for we thought that some
one had left us a fortune. We went at once
to the lawyer whose name was given in the paper.
There we met two gentlemen, mister Carruthers and mister Woodley,
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who were home on a visit from South Africa. They
said that my uncle was a friend of theirs, that
he had died some months before in great poverty in Johannesburg,
and that he had asked them with his last breath
to hunt up his relations and see that they were
in no want. It seemed strange to us that Uncle Ralph,
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who took no notice of us when he was alive,
should be so careful to look after us when he
was dead. But mister Carruthers explained that the reason was
that my uncle had just heard of the death of
his brother and so felt responsible for our fate. Excuse me,
said Holmes, when was this interview last December four months ago?
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Pray proceed. Mister Woodley seemed to me to be a
most odious person. He was forever making eyes at me,
A coarse, puffy faced, red mustached young man with his
hair plastered down on each side of his forehead. I
thought that he was perfectly hateful, and I was sure
that Cyril would not wish me to know such a person. Oh,
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Cyril is his name, said Holmes, smiling. The young lady
blushed and laughed. Yes, mister Holmes. Cyril Morton an electrical engineer,
and we hoped to be married at the end of
the summer. Dear me, how did I get talking about him?
What I wished to say was that mister Woodley was
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perfectly but that mister Carruthers, who was a much older man,
was more agreeable. He was a dark, sallow, clean shaven,
silent person, but he had polite manners and a pleasant smile.
He inquired how we were left, and, on finding that
we were very poor, he suggested that I should come
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and teach music to his only daughter, aged ten. I
said that I did not like to leave my mother,
on which he suggested that I should go home to
her every week end, and he offered me a hundred
a year, which was certainly splendid pay. So It ended
by my accepting, and I went down to Chilton Grange,
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about six miles from Farnham. Mister Carruthers was a widower,
but he had engaged a lady housekeeper, a very respectable
elderly person called missus Dixon, to look after his establishment.
The child was a dear and everything promised well. Mister
Carruthers was very kind and very musical, and we had
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most pleasant evenings together Every week end I went home
to my mother in town. The first floor in my
happiness was the arrival of the red mustached mister Woodley.
He came for a visit of a week, and oh
it seemed three months to me. He was a dreadful person,
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a bully to every one else, but to me something
infinitely worse. He made odious love to me, boasted of
his wealth, said that if I married him, I could
have the finest diamonds in London. And finally, when I
would have nothing to do with him, he seized me
in his arms one day after dinner. He was hideously
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strong and swore that he would not let me go
until I had kissed him. Mister Carruthers came in and
tore him from me, on which he turned upon his
own host, knocking him down and cutting his face open.
That was the end of his visit. As you can imagine,
mister Caruthers apologized to me next day and assured me
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that I should never be exposed to such an insult again.
I have not seen mister Woodley since, and now, mister Holmes,
I come at last to the special thing which has
caused me to ask your advice to day. You must
know that every Saturday afternoon I ride on my bicycle
to Farnham Station in order to get the twelve twenty
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two to town. The road from Chiltern Grange is a
lonely one, and at one spot it is particularly so,
for it lies for over a mile between Charlington Heath
upon one side and the woods which lie round Charlington
Hall upon the other. You could not find a more
lonely tract of road anywhere, and it is quite rare
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to meet so much as a cart or a peasant
until you reach the high road near Crooksbury Hill. Two
weeks ago I was passing this place when I chanced
to look over my shoulder, and about two hundred yards
behind me I saw a man, also on a bicycle.
He seemed to be a middle aged man with a
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short dark beard. I looked back before I reached Farnham,
but the man was gone, so I thought no more
about it. But you can imagine how surprised I was,
mister Holmes, when on my return on the Monday, I
saw the same man on the same stretch of road.
My astonishment was increased when the incident occurred again exactly
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as before on the following Saturday and Monday. He always
kept his distance and he did not molest me in
any way, but still it certainly was very odd. I
mentioned it to mister Carruthers, who seemed interested in what
I said, and told me that he had ordered a
horse and trap, so that in future I should not
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pass over those lonely roads without some companion. The horse
and trap were to have come this week, but for
some reason they were not delivered, and again I had
to cycle to the station that was this morning. You
can think that I looked out when I came to
Charlington Heath, and there sure enough was the man, exactly
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as he had been the two weeks before. He always
kept so far from me that I could not clearly
see his face, but It was certainly some one whom
I did not know. He was dressed in a dark
suit with a cloth cap. The only thing about his
face that I could clearly see was his dark beard.
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To day, I was not alarmed, but I was filled
with curiosity, and I determined to find out who he
was and what he wanted. I slowed down my machine,
but he slowed down his. Then I stopped altogether, but
he stop also. Then I laid a trap for him.
There is a sharp turning of the road, and I
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peddled very quickly round this, and then I stopped and waited.
I expected him to shoot round and pass me before
he could stop, but he never appeared. Then I went
back and looked around the corner. I could see a
mile of road, but he was not on it. To
make it the more extraordinary, there was no side road
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at this point down which he could have gone. Holmes
chuckled and rubbed his hands. This case certainly presents some
features of its own, said he. How much time elapsed
between your turning the corner and your discovery that the
road was clear? Two or three minutes? Then he could
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not have retreated down the road. And you say that
there are no side roads. None. Then he certainly took
a footpath on one side or the other. It could
not have been on the side of the heath, or
I should have seen him. So by the process of
exclusion we arrived at the fact that he made his
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way toward Charlington Hall, which, as I understand, is situated
in its own grounds on one side of the road.
Anything else, nothing, mister Holmes, say that I was so
perplexed that I felt I should not be happy until
I had seen you and had your advice. Holmes sat
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in silence for some little time. Where is the gentleman
to whom you are engaged, he asked at last. He
is in the Middland Electrical Company at Coventry. He would
not pay you a surprise visit. Oh, mister Holmes, as
if I should not know him? Have you had any
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other admirers? Several before I knew Cyril, And since there
was this dreadful man Woodley, if you can call him
an admirer, no one else. Our fair client seemed a
little confused. Who was he asked Holmes. Oh, it may
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be a mere fancy of mine, but it had seemed
to me sometimes that my employer, mister Carruthers takes a
great deal of interest in me. We are thrown rather together.
I play his accompaniments in the evening. He has never
said anything. He is a perfect gentleman. But a girl
always knows ha Holmes looked grave. What does he do
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for a living. He is a rich man, no carriages
or horses. Well, at least, he is fairly well to do.
But he goes into the city two or three times
a week. He is deeply interested in South African gold shares.
You will let me know any fresh development, Miss Smith.
I am very busy just now, but I will find
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time to make some inquiries into your case. In the meantime,
take no step without letting me know. Good bye, and
I trust that we shall have nothing but good news
from you. It is part of the settled order of
nature that such a girl should have followers, said Holmes.
He pulled at his meditative pipe. But for choice, not
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on bicycles in lonely country roads. Some secretive lover beyond
all doubt. But there are curious and suggestive details about
the case, Watson, that he should appear only at that
point exactly. Our first effort must be to find who
are the tenants of Charlington Hall. Then again, how about
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the connection between Carruthers and Woodley. Since they appear to
be men of such a different type, how came they
both to be so keen upon looking up Ralph Smith's relations?
One more point, what sort of a manage is it
which pays double the market price for a governess but
does not keep the horse? Although six miles from the station, odd, Watson,
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very odd, you'll go down? No, my dear fellow, you
will go down. This may be some trifling intrigue, and
I cannot break my other important research for the sake
of it. On Monday you will arrive early at Farnham.
You will conceal yourself near Charlington Heath. You will observe
these facts for yourself, and act as your own judgment advises. Then,
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having inquired as to the occupants of the hall, you
will come back to me and report. And now, Watson,
not another word of the matter until we have a
few solid stepping stones on which we may hope to
get across to our solution. We had ascertained from the
lady that she went down upon the Monday by the
train which leaves Waterloo at nine point fifty so I
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started early and caught the nine thirteen at Farnham station.
I had no difficulty in being directed to Charlington Heath.
It was impossible to mistake the scene of the young
lady's adventure, for the road runs between the open heath
on one side and an old yew hedge upon the other,
surrounding a park which is studded with magnificent trees. There
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was a main gateway of a lichened studded stone, each
side pillar surmounted by moldering heraldic emblems. But besides this
central carriage drive, I observed several points where there were
gaps in the hedge and paths leading through them. The
house was invisible from the road, but the surroundings all
spoke of gloom and decay. The heath was covered with
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golden patches of flowering gorse gleaming magnificently in the light
of the bright spring sunshine. Behind one of these clumps,
I took up my position so as to command both
the gateway of the hall and a long stretch of
the road upon either side. It had been deserted when
I left it, but now I saw a cyclist riding
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down it from the opposite direction to that in which
I had come. He was clad in a dark suit,
and I saw that he had a black beard. On
reaching the end of the Charlington grounds, he sprang from
his machine and led it through a gap in the hedge,
disappearing from my view. A quarter of an hour passed
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and then a second cyclist appeared. This time it was
the young lady coming from the station. I saw her
look about her as she came to the Charlington Hedge.
An instant later, the man emerged from his hiding place,
sprang upon his cycle, and followed her. In all the
broad landscape, those were the only moving figures, the graceful
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girl sitting very straight upon her machine, and the man
behind her, bending low over his handlebar with a curiously
furtive suggestion. In every movement, she looked back at him
and slowed her pace. He slowed also. She stopped. He
at once stopped too, keeping two hundred yards behind her.
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Her next movement was as unexpected as it was spirited.
She suddenly whisked her wheels round and dashed straight at him.
He was as quick as she, however, and darted off
in desperate flight. Presently she came back up the road again,
her head haughtily in the air, not deigning to take
any further notice of her silent attendant. He had turned also,
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and still kept his distance until the curve of the
road hid them from my sight. I remained in my
hiding place, and it was well that I did so,
for presently the man reappeared, cycling slowly back. He turned
in at the hall gates and dismounted from his machine.
For some minutes I could see him standing among the trees.
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His hands were raised, and he seemed to be settling
his necktie. Then, when he mounted his cycle and rode
away from me down the drive towards the hall, I
ran across the heath and peered through the trees. Far
away I could catch glimpses of the old gray building
with its bristling tudor chimneys, but the drive ran through
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a dense shrubbery, and I saw no more of my man. However,
it seemed to me that I had done a fairly
good morning's work, and I walked back in high spirits
to Farnham. The local house agent could tell me nothing
about Charlington Hall, and referred me to a well known
firm in pall Mall. There I halted on my way
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home and met with courtesy from the representative. No, I
could not have Charlington Hall for the summer. I was
just too late. It had been let about a month ago.
Mister Williamson was the name of the tenant. He was
a respectable, elderly gentleman. The polite agent was afraid he
could say no more, as the affairs of his clients
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were not matters which he could discuss. Mister Sherlock Holmes
listened with attention to the long report which I was
able to present to him that evening, but it did
not elicit that word of curt praise which I had
hoped for and should have valued. On the contrary, his
austere face was even more severe than usual, as he
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commented upon the things that I had done and the
things that I had not. Your hiding place, my dear Watson,
was very faulty. You should have been behind the hedge.
Then you would have had a close view of this
interesting person. As it is, you were some hundreds of
yards away, and can tell me even less than Miss Smith.
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She thinks she does not know the man. I am
convinced she does. Why otherwise should he be so desperately
anxious that she should not get so near him as
to see his features. You describe him as bending over
the house ndebar concealment again. You see you really have
done remarkably badly. He returns to the house, and you
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want to find out who he is. You come to
a London house agent. What should I have done? I
cried with some heat. Gone to the nearest public house
that is the center of country gossip. They would have
told you every name, from the master to the scullery maid. Williamson.
It conveys nothing to my mind. If he is an
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elderly man, he is not this active cyclist who sprints
away from that young lady's athletic pursuit. What have we
gained for your expedition the knowledge that the girl's story
is true. I never doubted it that there is a
connection between the cyclist and the hall. I never doubted
that either, that the hall is tenanted by Williamson. Who's
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the better for that? Well, well, my dear sir, don't
look so depressed. We can do little more until next Saturday,
and in the meantime I may make one or two
inquiries myself. Next morning we had a note from miss Smith,
recounting shortly and accurately the very incidents which I had seen.
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But the pith of the letter lay in the PostScript.
I am sure that you will respect my confidence, mister Holmes,
when I tell you that my place here has become
difficult owing to the fact that my employer has proposed
marriage to me. I am convinced that his feelings are
most deep and most honorable. At the same time, my
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promise is, of course given. He took my refusal very seriously,
but also very gently. You can understand, however, that the
situation is a little strained. Our young friend seems to
be getting into deep waters, said Holmes thoughtfully as he
finished the letter. The case certainly presents more features of
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interest and more possibility of development than I had originally thought.
I should be none the worse for a quiet, peaceful
day in the country, and I am inclined to run
down this afternoon and test one or two theories which
I have formed. Holmes's quiet day in the country had
a singular termination, for he arrived at Baker Street late
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in the evening with a cut lip and a discolored
lump upon his forehead, besides a general air of dissipation,
which would have made his own person the fitting object
of a Scotland yard investigation. He was immensely tickled by
his own adventures and laughed heartily as he recounted them.
I get so little active exercise that it is always
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a treat, said he. You are aware that I have
some proficiency in the good old British sport of boxing.
Occasionally it is of service to day. For example, I
should have come to very ignominious grief without it. I
begged him to tell me what had occurred. I found
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that country pub, which I had already recommended to your notice,
and there I made my discreet inquiries. I was in
the bar, and a garrulous landlord was giving me all
that I wanted. Williamson is a white bearded man, and
he lives alone with a small staff of servants at
the hall. There is some rumor that he is or
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has been, a clergyman, But one or two incidents of
his short residence at the hall struck me as peculiarly unecclesiastical.
I have already made some inquiries at a clerical agency,
and they tell me that there was a man of
that name in orders whose career has been a singularly
dark one. The landlord further informed me that there are
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usually week end visitors, a warm lot sir at the hall,
and especially one gentleman with a red mustache, mister Woodley
by name, who was always there. We had got as
far as this when who should walk in but the
gentleman himself, who'd been drinking his beer in the tap
room and had heard the whole conversation. Who was I?
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What did I want? What did I mean by asking questions?
He had a fine flow of language, and his adjectives
were very vigorous. He ended a string of abuse by
a vicious backhander, which I failed to entirely avoid. The
next few minutes were delicious. It was a straight left
against the slogging ruffian. I emerged as you see me.
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Mister Woodley went home in a cart. So ended my
country trip. And it must be confessed that, however enjoyable,
my day on the Surrey border, has not been much
more profitable than your own. The Thursday brought us another
letter from our client. You will not be surprised, mister Holmes,
said she to hear that I am leaving mister Carruther's employment.
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Even the high pay cannot reconcile me to the discomforts
of my situation. On Saturday, I came up to town,
and I do not intend to return. Mister Carruthers has
got a trap, and so the dangers of the lonely road,
if there were any dangers, are now over. As to
the special cause of my leaving, it is not merely
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the strained situation with mister Carruthers, but it is the
reappearance of that odious man, mister Woodley. He was always hideous,
but he looks more awful than ever now, for he
appears to have had an accident, and he is much disfigured.
I saw him out of the window, but I am
glad to say that I did not meet him. He
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had a long talk with mister Carruthers, who seemed much
excited afterwards. Woodley must be staying in the neighborhood, for
he did not sleep here, And yet I caught a
glimpse of him again this morning, slinking about in the shrubbery.
I would sooner have a savage, wild animal loose about
the place. I loathe and fear him more than I
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can say. How can mister Carruthers endure such a creature
for a moment. However, all my troubles will be over
on Saturday. So I trust Watson. So I trust, said
Holmes gravely. There is some deep intrigue going on round
that little woman, and it is our duty to see
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that no one molests her upon that last journey. I think, Watson,
that we must spare time to run down together on
Saturday morning and make sure that this curious and inclusive
investigation has no untoward ending. I confess that I had
not up to now taken a very serious view of
the case, which had seemed to me rather grotesque and
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bizarre than dangerous. That a man should line, wait for,
and follow a very handsome woman is no unheard of thing.
And if he has so little audacity that he had
not only dared not address her, but even fled from
her approach, he was not a very formidable assailant. The
Ruffian Woodley was a very different person. But except on
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one occasion, he had not molested our client, and now
he visited the house of Carruthers without intruding upon her presence.
The man on the bicycle was doubtless a member of
those weekend parties at the hall of which the publican
had spoken, but who he was or what he wanted
was as obscure as ever. It was a severity of
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Holmes's manner, and the fact that he slipped a revolver
into his pocket before leaving our rooms, which impressed me
with the feeling that tragedy might prove to lurk behind
this curious train of events. A rainy night had been
followed by a glorious morning, and the heath covered countryside
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with the glowing clumps of flowering gorse, seemed all the
more beautiful to eyes which were weary of the duns
and drabs and slate grays of London. Holmes and I
walked along the broad sandy Road, inhaling the fresh morning
air and rejoicing in the music of the birds and
the fresh breath of the spring. From a rise of
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the road on the shoulder of Crooksbury Hill, we could
see the grim Hall bristling out from amidst the ancient oaks, which,
old as they were, were still younger than the building
which they surrounded. Holmes pointed down the long tract of road,
which wound a reddish yellow band between the brown of
the heath and the budding green of the woods. Far away,
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a black dot we could see a vehicle moving in
our direction. Holmes gave an exclamation of impatience. I have
given a margin of half an hour, said he. If
that is her trap, she must be making for the
earlier train. I fear, Watson, that she will be past
Charlington before we can possibly meet her. From the instant
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that we passed the rise, we could no longer see
the vehicle. But we hastened onward at such a pace
that my sudden life began to tell upon me, and
I was compelled to fall behind. Holmes, however, was always
in training, for he had inexhaustible stores of nervous energy
upon which to draw. His springy step never slowed, until suddenly,
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when he was a hundred yards in front of me,
he halted, and I saw him throw up his hand
with a gesture of grief and despair. At the same instant,
an empty dog cart, the horse cantering the reins trailing,
appeared round the curve of the road and rattled swiftly
towards us. Too late, Watson, too late, cried Holmes, as
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I ran, panting to his side. Fool that I was
not to allow for that earlier train. Its abduction, Watson, abduction, murder.
Heaven knows what block the road? Stop the horse, that's
right now, jump in and let us see if I
can repair the consequence of my own blunder. We had
sprung into the dog cart and Holmes, after turning the horse,
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gave it a sharp cut with the whip, and we
flew back along the road. As we turned the curve,
the whole stretch of road between the hall and the
heath was opened up. I grasped Holmes's arm. That's the
man I gasped. A solitary cyclist was coming towards us.
His head was down and his shoulders round it as
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he put every ounce of energy that he possessed on
to the pedals. He was flying like a racer. Suddenly
he raised his bearded face, saw us close to him,
and pulled up, springing from his machine. That coal black
Beard was in singular contrast to eyes were as bright
as if he had a fever. He stared at us
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and at the dog cart. Then a look of amazement
came over his face. Hello, stop there, he shouted, holding
his bicycle to block our road. Where did you get
that dog cart? Pull up? Man, he yelled, drawing a
pistol from his pull up. I say, or by, George,
I'll put a bullet into your horse. Holmes threw the
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reins into my lap and sprang down from the cart.
You're the man we want to see. Where is miss
Violet Smith, he said in his quick, clear way. That's
what I'm asking you. You're in her dog cart. You
ought to know where she is. We met the dog
cart on the road. There was no one in it.
(33:25):
We drove back to help the young lady. Good Lord,
good lord, what shall I do? Cried the stranger, in
an ecstasy of despair. They've got her that hell hound
Woodley and the blackguard Parson. Come, man, Come, if you
really are friend, stand by me and we'll save her.
If I have to leave my carcass in Charlington Wood
(33:49):
He ran, distractedly, his pistol in his hand, towards a
gap in the hedge. Holmes followed him, and I, leaving
the horse grazing beside the road, followed Holmes. This is
where they came through, said he, pointing to the marks
of several feet upon the muddy path. Hullo, stop, a minute.
Who's this in the bush? It was a young fellow
(34:12):
about seventeen, dressed like an ostler, with leather cords and gaiters.
He lay upon his back, his knees drawn up, a
terrible cut upon his head. He was insensible but alive.
A glance at his wound told me that it had
not penetrated the bone. That's Peter, the groom, cried the stranger.
(34:34):
He drove her. The beasts have pulled him off and
clubbed him. Let him lie. We can't do him any good,
but we may save her from that worse fate that
can befall a woman. He ran frantically down the path
which wound among the trees. We had reached the shrubbery
which surrounded the house. When homes pulled up, they didn't
(34:54):
go to the house. Here are their marks on the left,
here beside the laurel bushes, ah I said, so as
he spoke a woman's shrill scream, a scream which vibrated
with a frenzy of horror bursts from the thick green
clump of bushes in front of us. It ended suddenly
on its highest note, with a choke and a gurgle.
(35:18):
This way this way. They're in the bowling alley, cried
the stranger, darting through the bushes. Ah, the cowardly dogs
follow me, gentlemen. Too late, too late, by the living Jingo.
We had broken suddenly into a lovely glade of greensward,
surrounded by ancient trees. On the farther side of it,
(35:39):
under the shadow of a mighty oak, there stood a
singular group of three people. One was a woman, our client,
drooping and faint, a handkerchief round her mouth. Opposite her
stood a brutal, heavy faced, red mustached young man, his
gaited legs parted wide, one arm akimbo, the other waving
(35:59):
a riding crop, his whole attitude suggestive of triumphant bravado.
Between them, an elderly, gray bearded man wearing a short
surplice over a light tweed suit, had evidently just completed
the wedding service, for he pocketed his prayer book as
we appeared, and slapped the sinister bridegroom upon the back
(36:21):
in jovial congratulation. They're married, I gasped, Come on, cried
our guide. Come on. He rushed across the glade, holmes
and eye at his heels. As we approached, the lady
staggered against the trunk of the tree for support. Williamson,
(36:41):
the ex clergyman, bowed to us with mock politeness, and
the bully Woodley advanced with a shout of brutal and
exultant laughter. Ye can take your beard off, Bob said,
he MA know you right enough. Well, you and your
pals have just come in time for me to be
able to introduce to missus. Woodley. Our guide's answer was
(37:04):
a singular one. He snatched off the dark beard which
had disguised him and threw it on the ground, disclosing
a long, sallow, clean shaven face below it. Then he
raised his revolver and covered the young ruffian who was
advancing upon him with his dangerous riding crop swinging in
his hand. Yes, said our ally. I am Bob Carruthers,
(37:27):
and I'll see this woman wright it if I had
to swing for it. I told you what i'd do
if you molested her, and by the Lord, I'll be
as good as my word. You're too late. She's my wife. No,
she's your widow. His revolver cracked, and I saw the
blood spurt from the front of Woodley's waistcoat. He spun
(37:49):
round with a scream and fell upon his back, his
hideous red face turning suddenly to a dreadful, mottled pallor.
The old man, still clad in his surplice, burst into
such a string of foul oaths as I have never heard,
and pulled out a revolver of his own. But before
he could raise it, he was looking down the barrel
(38:10):
of Holmes's weapon. Enough of this, said my friend, coldly.
Drop that pistol. Watson, pick it up, hold it to
his head. Thank you, you carruthers. Give me that revolver.
We'll have no more violence. Come hand it over. Who
are you then? My name's Sherlock Holmes. Good lord, you've
(38:34):
heard of me. I see. I will represent the official
police until their arrival. Here you, he shouted to a
frightened groom who had appeared at the edge of the glade.
Come here, take this note as hard as you can,
ride to Farnham. He scribbled a few words upon a
leaf from his note book. Give it to the superintendent
at the police station until he comes. I must detain
(38:57):
you all under my personal custody. The strong, masterful personality
of Homes dominated the tragic scene, and all were equally
puppets in his hands. Williamson and Caruthers found themselves carrying
the wounded Woodley into the house, and I gave my
arm to the frightened girl. The injured man was laid
(39:18):
on his bed, and at Holmes's request, I examined him.
I carried my report to where he sat in the
old tapestry hung dining room, with his two prisoners before him.
He will live, said I what, cried Caruthers, springing out
of his chair. I'll go upstairs and finish him first.
Do you tell me that that angel is to be
(39:40):
tied to Roaring Jack Woodley for life? You need not
concern yourself about that, said Holmes. There are two very
good reasons why she should, under no circumstances, be his wife.
In the first place, we are very safe in questioning
mister Williamson's right to solemnize a marriage. I have been ordained,
(40:02):
cried the old rascal, and also unfrocked. Once a clergyman,
always a clergyman. I think not. How about the license?
We had a license for the marriage. I have it
here in my pocket. Then you got it by trick.
But in any case, a forced marriage is no marriage,
(40:23):
but it is a very serious felony, as you will
discover before you have finished. You will have time to
think to point out during the next ten years or so.
Unless I am mistaken as to you her others, you
would have done better to keep your pistol in your pocket.
I begin to think so, mister Holmes. But when I
thought of all the precaution I had taken to shield
(40:45):
this girl, for I loved her, mister Holmes, and it
is the only time that ever I knew what love was.
It fairly drove me mad to think that she was
in the power of the greatest brute and bully in
South Africa, a man whose name is a holy terror
from Kimberly to Johannesburg. Why, mister Holmes, you will hardly
(41:06):
believe it. But ever since that girl has been in
my employment, I never once let her go past this
house where I knew the rascals were lurking, without following
her on my bicycle, just to see that she came
to no harm. I kept my distance from her, and
I wore a beard so that she should not recognize me.
For she is a good and high spirited girl, and
(41:28):
She wouldn't have stayed in my employment long if she
had thought that I was following her about the country roads.
Why didn't you tell her of her danger? Because then
again she would have left me, and I couldn't bear
to face that. Even if she couldn't love me, it
was a great deal to me just to see her
(41:49):
dainty form about the house and to hear the sound
of her voice, well, said I. You call that love,
mister Carruthers, but I should call itself bishness. Maybe the
two things go together. Anyhow, I couldn't let her go. Besides,
with this crowd about, it was well that she should
(42:10):
have some one near to look after her. Then, when
the cable came, I knew they were bound to make
a move. What cable? Carruthers took a telegram from his pocket.
That's it, said he. It was short and concise. The
old man is dead. Hum said Holmes. I think I
(42:34):
see how things worked, and I can understand how this
message would, as you say, bring them to a head.
But while you wait, you might tell me what you can.
The old reprobate with the surplice burst into a volley
of bad language. By heaven, said he if you squeal
on us, Bob Carrathers, I'll serve you as you serve
(42:55):
Jack Woodly. Ye can bleat about the girl to your
heart's content, for that's your own. But if you round
on your pals to this plainclothes copper, it'll be the
worst day's work that ever you did. Your reverence need
not be excited, said Holmes, lighting a cigarette. The case
is clear enough against you, and all I ask is
a few details for my private curiosity. However, if there's
(43:19):
any difficulty in your telling me, I'll do the talking,
and then you will see how far you have a
chance of holding back your secrets. In the first place,
three of you came from South Africa on this game,
you Williamson, You Caruthers, and Woodley lie number one, said
the old man. I never saw either of them until
(43:40):
two months ago, and I've never been in Africa in
my life. So you can put that in your pipe
and smoke it. Mister busybody Holmes, what he says is true,
said Carruthers. Well, well, two of you came over. His
reverence is our own home made article. You had known
Ralph Smith in South Africa. You had reason to believe
(44:03):
he would not live long. You found out that his
niece would inherit his fortune. How's that, eh, Carruthers nodded,
and Williamson swore she was next of kin, no doubt.
And you were aware that the old fellow would make
no will. Couldn't read or write, said Caruthers. So you
came over, the two of you and hunted up the girl.
(44:26):
The idea was that one of you was to marry
her and the other have a share of the plunder.
For some reason, Woodley was chosen as the husband. Why
was that we played cards for her and on the
voyage any one I see? You got the young lady
into your service, and there Woodley was to do the courting.
(44:47):
She recognized the drunken brute that he was, and would
have nothing to do with him. Meanwhile, your arrangement was
rather upset by the fact that you had yourself fallen
in love with the lady. You could no long longer
bear the idea of this ruffian owning her. No, by George,
I couldn't. There was a quarrel between you. He left
(45:10):
you in a rage and began to make his own
plans independently of you. It strikes me Williamson. There isn't
very much that we can tell this gentleman, cried Carruthers
with a bitter laugh. Yes, we quarreled and he knocked
me down. I am level with him on that anyhow.
Then I lost sight of him. That was when he
(45:30):
picked up with this outcast padre. Here. I found that
they had set up housekeeping together at this place on
the line that she had to pass for the station.
I kept my eye on her after that, for I
knew there was some devilry in the wind. I saw
them from time to time, for I was anxious to
know what they were. After two days ago, Woodley came
(45:52):
up to my house with this cable which showed that
Ralph Smith was dead. He asked me if I would
stand by the bargain. I said I would not. He
asked me if I would marry the girl myself and
give him a share. I said I would willingly do so,
but that she would not have me. He said, let
us get her married first, and after a week or
(46:13):
two she may see things of it different. I said,
I'd have nothing to do with violence. So he went off,
cursing like the foul mouthed blackguard that he was and
swearing that he would have her. Yet she was leaving
me this weekend, and I'd got a trap to take
her to the station. But I was so uneasy in
my mind that I followed her on my bicycle. She'd
(46:36):
got a start, however, and before I could catch her,
the mischief was done. The first thing I knew about
it was when I saw you two gentlemen driving back
in her dog cart. Holmes rose and tossed the end
of his cigarette into the grate. I've been very obtuse, Watson,
said he. When in your report you said that you
(46:57):
had seen the cyclist, as you thought, arrange his neck
in the shrubbery, that alone should have told me all. However,
we may congratulate ourselves upon a curious and in some
respects a unique case. I perceive three of the county
constabulary in the drive, and I am glad to see
that the little ostler is able to keep pace with them.
(47:19):
So it is likely that neither he nor the interesting
bridegroom will be permanently damaged by their morning's adventures. I think, Watson,
that in your medical capacity, you might wait upon miss
Smith and tell her that if she is sufficiently recovered,
we shall be happy to escort her to her mother's
home if she is not quite convalescent. You will find
(47:42):
that a hint that we were about to telegraph to
a young electrician in the Midlands would probably complete the cure.
As to you, mister Carruthers, I think that you have
done what you could do to make amends for your
share in an evil plot. There is my card, sir,
and if my evidence can be of help in your trial,
it shall be at your disposal. In the whirl of
(48:05):
our incessant activity, it has often been difficult for me,
as the reader has probably observed, to round off my
narratives and to give those final details which the curious
might expect. Each case has been the prelude to another,
and the crisis, once over, the actors have passed forever
out of our busy lives. I find, however, a short
(48:27):
note at the end of my manuscript dealing with this case,
in which I have put it upon record that Miss
Violet Smith did indeed inherit a large fortune, and that
she is now the wife of Cyril Morton, the senior
partner of Morton and Kennedy, the famous Westminster Electricians. Williamson
and Woodley were both tried for abduction and assault, the
(48:50):
former getting seven years, the latter ten. Of the fate
of Carruthers, I have no record, but I am sure
that his assault was not viewed very gravely by the court,
since Woodley had the reputation of being a most dangerous Ruffian,
and I think that a few months were sufficient to
satisfy the demands of justice. End of the Adventure of
(49:14):
the Solitary Cyclist
The adventure of the Solitary Cyclist from the years eighteen
ninety four to nineteen o one inclusive. Mister Sherlock Holmes
was a very busy man. It is safe to say
that there was no public case of any difficulty in
which he was not consulted during those eighty years, and
there were hundreds of private cases, some of them at
(00:23):
the most intricate and extraordinary character, in which he played
a prominent part. Many startling successes and a few unavoidable
failures were the outcome of this long period of continuous work.
As I have preserved very full notes of all these cases,
and was myself personally engaged in many of them, it
(00:43):
may be imagined that it is no easy task to
know which I should select to lay before the public.
I shall, however, preserve my former rule and give the
preference to those cases which derive their interest not so
much from the brutality of the crime as from the
ingenuity and dramatic quality of the solution. For this reason,
(01:06):
I will now lay before the reader the facts connected
with Miss Violet Smith, the Solitary Cyclist of Charlington, and
a curious sequel of our investigation, which culminated in unexpected tragedy.
It is true that the circumstance did not admit of
any striking illustration of those powers for which my friend
(01:26):
was famous. But there were some points about the case
which made it stand out in those long records of
crime from which I gather the material for these little narratives.
On referring to my note book for the year eighteen
ninety five, I find that it was upon Saturday, the
twenty third of April, that we first heard of miss
(01:48):
Violet Smith. Her visit was, I remember, extremely unwelcome to Holmes,
for he was immersed at the moment in a very
abstruse and complicated problem conceers earning the peculiar persecution to
which John Vincent Harden, the well known tobacco millionaire, had
been subjected. My friend, who loved above all things precision
(02:10):
and concentration of thought, resented anything which distracted his attention
from the matter in hand. And yet without a harshness
which was foreign to his nature, it was impossible to
refuse to listen to the story of the young and
beautiful woman, tall, graceful and queenly, who presented herself at
(02:31):
Baker Street late in the evening and implored his assistance
and advice. It was vain to urge that his time
was already fully occupied, for the young lady had come
with a determination to tell her story, and it was
evident that nothing short of force could get her out
of the room until she had done so. With a
(02:53):
resigned air and a somewhat weary smile, Holmes begged the
beautiful intruder to take a seat and to form us
what it was that was troubling her. At least, it
cannot be your health, said he, as his keen eyes
darted over her so ardent. A bicyclist must be full
of energy. She glanced down in surprise at her own feet,
(03:16):
and I observed the slight roughening of the side of
the soul caused by the friction of the edge of
the pedal. Yes, I bicycle a good deal, mister Holmes,
and that has something to do with my visit to
you to day. My friend took the lady's ungloved hand
and examined it with as close an attention and as
little sentiment as a scientist would show to a specimen.
(03:40):
You will excuse me, I am sure it is my business,
said he, as he dropped it. I nearly fell into
the error of supposing that you were typewriting. Of course,
it is obvious that it is music. You observe the
spatulate finger ends Watson, which is common to both professions.
There is a spirituality about the face. However, she gently
(04:03):
turned it towards the light, which the typewriter does not generate.
This lady is a musician, yes, mister Holmes, I teach
music in the country, I presume from your complexion, Yes, sir.
Near Farnham on the borders of Surrey, a beautiful neighborhood
(04:25):
and full of the most interesting associations. You remember, Watson,
that it was near there that we took Archie Stamford,
the forger. Now, miss Violet, what has happened to you?
Near Farnham on the borders of Surrey. The young lady,
with great clearness and composure, made the following curious statement.
(04:47):
My father is dead, mister Holmes. He was James Smith,
who conducted the orchestra at the old Imperial Theater. My
mother and I were left without a relation in the
world except one uncle, Ralph Smith, who went to Africa
twenty five years ago, and we've never had a word
from him since when father died we were left very poor.
(05:09):
But one day we were told that there was an
advertisement in the Times inquiring for our whereabouts. You can
imagine how excited we were, for we thought that some
one had left us a fortune. We went at once
to the lawyer whose name was given in the paper.
There we met two gentlemen, mister Carruthers and mister Woodley,
(05:30):
who were home on a visit from South Africa. They
said that my uncle was a friend of theirs, that
he had died some months before in great poverty in Johannesburg,
and that he had asked them with his last breath
to hunt up his relations and see that they were
in no want. It seemed strange to us that Uncle Ralph,
(05:50):
who took no notice of us when he was alive,
should be so careful to look after us when he
was dead. But mister Carruthers explained that the reason was
that my uncle had just heard of the death of
his brother and so felt responsible for our fate. Excuse me,
said Holmes, when was this interview last December four months ago?
(06:15):
Pray proceed. Mister Woodley seemed to me to be a
most odious person. He was forever making eyes at me,
A coarse, puffy faced, red mustached young man with his
hair plastered down on each side of his forehead. I
thought that he was perfectly hateful, and I was sure
that Cyril would not wish me to know such a person. Oh,
(06:39):
Cyril is his name, said Holmes, smiling. The young lady
blushed and laughed. Yes, mister Holmes. Cyril Morton an electrical engineer,
and we hoped to be married at the end of
the summer. Dear me, how did I get talking about him?
What I wished to say was that mister Woodley was
(06:59):
perfectly but that mister Carruthers, who was a much older man,
was more agreeable. He was a dark, sallow, clean shaven,
silent person, but he had polite manners and a pleasant smile.
He inquired how we were left, and, on finding that
we were very poor, he suggested that I should come
(07:20):
and teach music to his only daughter, aged ten. I
said that I did not like to leave my mother,
on which he suggested that I should go home to
her every week end, and he offered me a hundred
a year, which was certainly splendid pay. So It ended
by my accepting, and I went down to Chilton Grange,
(07:41):
about six miles from Farnham. Mister Carruthers was a widower,
but he had engaged a lady housekeeper, a very respectable
elderly person called missus Dixon, to look after his establishment.
The child was a dear and everything promised well. Mister
Carruthers was very kind and very musical, and we had
(08:02):
most pleasant evenings together Every week end I went home
to my mother in town. The first floor in my
happiness was the arrival of the red mustached mister Woodley.
He came for a visit of a week, and oh
it seemed three months to me. He was a dreadful person,
(08:23):
a bully to every one else, but to me something
infinitely worse. He made odious love to me, boasted of
his wealth, said that if I married him, I could
have the finest diamonds in London. And finally, when I
would have nothing to do with him, he seized me
in his arms one day after dinner. He was hideously
(08:43):
strong and swore that he would not let me go
until I had kissed him. Mister Carruthers came in and
tore him from me, on which he turned upon his
own host, knocking him down and cutting his face open.
That was the end of his visit. As you can imagine,
mister Caruthers apologized to me next day and assured me
(09:05):
that I should never be exposed to such an insult again.
I have not seen mister Woodley since, and now, mister Holmes,
I come at last to the special thing which has
caused me to ask your advice to day. You must
know that every Saturday afternoon I ride on my bicycle
to Farnham Station in order to get the twelve twenty
(09:27):
two to town. The road from Chiltern Grange is a
lonely one, and at one spot it is particularly so,
for it lies for over a mile between Charlington Heath
upon one side and the woods which lie round Charlington
Hall upon the other. You could not find a more
lonely tract of road anywhere, and it is quite rare
(09:49):
to meet so much as a cart or a peasant
until you reach the high road near Crooksbury Hill. Two
weeks ago I was passing this place when I chanced
to look over my shoulder, and about two hundred yards
behind me I saw a man, also on a bicycle.
He seemed to be a middle aged man with a
(10:11):
short dark beard. I looked back before I reached Farnham,
but the man was gone, so I thought no more
about it. But you can imagine how surprised I was,
mister Holmes, when on my return on the Monday, I
saw the same man on the same stretch of road.
My astonishment was increased when the incident occurred again exactly
(10:35):
as before on the following Saturday and Monday. He always
kept his distance and he did not molest me in
any way, but still it certainly was very odd. I
mentioned it to mister Carruthers, who seemed interested in what
I said, and told me that he had ordered a
horse and trap, so that in future I should not
(10:56):
pass over those lonely roads without some companion. The horse
and trap were to have come this week, but for
some reason they were not delivered, and again I had
to cycle to the station that was this morning. You
can think that I looked out when I came to
Charlington Heath, and there sure enough was the man, exactly
(11:21):
as he had been the two weeks before. He always
kept so far from me that I could not clearly
see his face, but It was certainly some one whom
I did not know. He was dressed in a dark
suit with a cloth cap. The only thing about his
face that I could clearly see was his dark beard.
(11:43):
To day, I was not alarmed, but I was filled
with curiosity, and I determined to find out who he
was and what he wanted. I slowed down my machine,
but he slowed down his. Then I stopped altogether, but
he stop also. Then I laid a trap for him.
There is a sharp turning of the road, and I
(12:06):
peddled very quickly round this, and then I stopped and waited.
I expected him to shoot round and pass me before
he could stop, but he never appeared. Then I went
back and looked around the corner. I could see a
mile of road, but he was not on it. To
make it the more extraordinary, there was no side road
(12:26):
at this point down which he could have gone. Holmes
chuckled and rubbed his hands. This case certainly presents some
features of its own, said he. How much time elapsed
between your turning the corner and your discovery that the
road was clear? Two or three minutes? Then he could
(12:47):
not have retreated down the road. And you say that
there are no side roads. None. Then he certainly took
a footpath on one side or the other. It could
not have been on the side of the heath, or
I should have seen him. So by the process of
exclusion we arrived at the fact that he made his
(13:08):
way toward Charlington Hall, which, as I understand, is situated
in its own grounds on one side of the road.
Anything else, nothing, mister Holmes, say that I was so
perplexed that I felt I should not be happy until
I had seen you and had your advice. Holmes sat
(13:28):
in silence for some little time. Where is the gentleman
to whom you are engaged, he asked at last. He
is in the Middland Electrical Company at Coventry. He would
not pay you a surprise visit. Oh, mister Holmes, as
if I should not know him? Have you had any
(13:48):
other admirers? Several before I knew Cyril, And since there
was this dreadful man Woodley, if you can call him
an admirer, no one else. Our fair client seemed a
little confused. Who was he asked Holmes. Oh, it may
(14:10):
be a mere fancy of mine, but it had seemed
to me sometimes that my employer, mister Carruthers takes a
great deal of interest in me. We are thrown rather together.
I play his accompaniments in the evening. He has never
said anything. He is a perfect gentleman. But a girl
always knows ha Holmes looked grave. What does he do
(14:35):
for a living. He is a rich man, no carriages
or horses. Well, at least, he is fairly well to do.
But he goes into the city two or three times
a week. He is deeply interested in South African gold shares.
You will let me know any fresh development, Miss Smith.
I am very busy just now, but I will find
(14:57):
time to make some inquiries into your case. In the meantime,
take no step without letting me know. Good bye, and
I trust that we shall have nothing but good news
from you. It is part of the settled order of
nature that such a girl should have followers, said Holmes.
He pulled at his meditative pipe. But for choice, not
(15:20):
on bicycles in lonely country roads. Some secretive lover beyond
all doubt. But there are curious and suggestive details about
the case, Watson, that he should appear only at that
point exactly. Our first effort must be to find who
are the tenants of Charlington Hall. Then again, how about
(15:41):
the connection between Carruthers and Woodley. Since they appear to
be men of such a different type, how came they
both to be so keen upon looking up Ralph Smith's relations?
One more point, what sort of a manage is it
which pays double the market price for a governess but
does not keep the horse? Although six miles from the station, odd, Watson,
(16:05):
very odd, you'll go down? No, my dear fellow, you
will go down. This may be some trifling intrigue, and
I cannot break my other important research for the sake
of it. On Monday you will arrive early at Farnham.
You will conceal yourself near Charlington Heath. You will observe
these facts for yourself, and act as your own judgment advises. Then,
(16:31):
having inquired as to the occupants of the hall, you
will come back to me and report. And now, Watson,
not another word of the matter until we have a
few solid stepping stones on which we may hope to
get across to our solution. We had ascertained from the
lady that she went down upon the Monday by the
train which leaves Waterloo at nine point fifty so I
(16:53):
started early and caught the nine thirteen at Farnham station.
I had no difficulty in being directed to Charlington Heath.
It was impossible to mistake the scene of the young
lady's adventure, for the road runs between the open heath
on one side and an old yew hedge upon the other,
surrounding a park which is studded with magnificent trees. There
(17:15):
was a main gateway of a lichened studded stone, each
side pillar surmounted by moldering heraldic emblems. But besides this
central carriage drive, I observed several points where there were
gaps in the hedge and paths leading through them. The
house was invisible from the road, but the surroundings all
spoke of gloom and decay. The heath was covered with
(17:40):
golden patches of flowering gorse gleaming magnificently in the light
of the bright spring sunshine. Behind one of these clumps,
I took up my position so as to command both
the gateway of the hall and a long stretch of
the road upon either side. It had been deserted when
I left it, but now I saw a cyclist riding
(18:01):
down it from the opposite direction to that in which
I had come. He was clad in a dark suit,
and I saw that he had a black beard. On
reaching the end of the Charlington grounds, he sprang from
his machine and led it through a gap in the hedge,
disappearing from my view. A quarter of an hour passed
(18:22):
and then a second cyclist appeared. This time it was
the young lady coming from the station. I saw her
look about her as she came to the Charlington Hedge.
An instant later, the man emerged from his hiding place,
sprang upon his cycle, and followed her. In all the
broad landscape, those were the only moving figures, the graceful
(18:46):
girl sitting very straight upon her machine, and the man
behind her, bending low over his handlebar with a curiously
furtive suggestion. In every movement, she looked back at him
and slowed her pace. He slowed also. She stopped. He
at once stopped too, keeping two hundred yards behind her.
(19:08):
Her next movement was as unexpected as it was spirited.
She suddenly whisked her wheels round and dashed straight at him.
He was as quick as she, however, and darted off
in desperate flight. Presently she came back up the road again,
her head haughtily in the air, not deigning to take
any further notice of her silent attendant. He had turned also,
(19:32):
and still kept his distance until the curve of the
road hid them from my sight. I remained in my
hiding place, and it was well that I did so,
for presently the man reappeared, cycling slowly back. He turned
in at the hall gates and dismounted from his machine.
For some minutes I could see him standing among the trees.
(19:55):
His hands were raised, and he seemed to be settling
his necktie. Then, when he mounted his cycle and rode
away from me down the drive towards the hall, I
ran across the heath and peered through the trees. Far
away I could catch glimpses of the old gray building
with its bristling tudor chimneys, but the drive ran through
(20:17):
a dense shrubbery, and I saw no more of my man. However,
it seemed to me that I had done a fairly
good morning's work, and I walked back in high spirits
to Farnham. The local house agent could tell me nothing
about Charlington Hall, and referred me to a well known
firm in pall Mall. There I halted on my way
(20:39):
home and met with courtesy from the representative. No, I
could not have Charlington Hall for the summer. I was
just too late. It had been let about a month ago.
Mister Williamson was the name of the tenant. He was
a respectable, elderly gentleman. The polite agent was afraid he
could say no more, as the affairs of his clients
(21:01):
were not matters which he could discuss. Mister Sherlock Holmes
listened with attention to the long report which I was
able to present to him that evening, but it did
not elicit that word of curt praise which I had
hoped for and should have valued. On the contrary, his
austere face was even more severe than usual, as he
(21:22):
commented upon the things that I had done and the
things that I had not. Your hiding place, my dear Watson,
was very faulty. You should have been behind the hedge.
Then you would have had a close view of this
interesting person. As it is, you were some hundreds of
yards away, and can tell me even less than Miss Smith.
(21:45):
She thinks she does not know the man. I am
convinced she does. Why otherwise should he be so desperately
anxious that she should not get so near him as
to see his features. You describe him as bending over
the house ndebar concealment again. You see you really have
done remarkably badly. He returns to the house, and you
(22:07):
want to find out who he is. You come to
a London house agent. What should I have done? I
cried with some heat. Gone to the nearest public house
that is the center of country gossip. They would have
told you every name, from the master to the scullery maid. Williamson.
It conveys nothing to my mind. If he is an
(22:29):
elderly man, he is not this active cyclist who sprints
away from that young lady's athletic pursuit. What have we
gained for your expedition the knowledge that the girl's story
is true. I never doubted it that there is a
connection between the cyclist and the hall. I never doubted
that either, that the hall is tenanted by Williamson. Who's
(22:52):
the better for that? Well, well, my dear sir, don't
look so depressed. We can do little more until next Saturday,
and in the meantime I may make one or two
inquiries myself. Next morning we had a note from miss Smith,
recounting shortly and accurately the very incidents which I had seen.
(23:13):
But the pith of the letter lay in the PostScript.
I am sure that you will respect my confidence, mister Holmes,
when I tell you that my place here has become
difficult owing to the fact that my employer has proposed
marriage to me. I am convinced that his feelings are
most deep and most honorable. At the same time, my
(23:34):
promise is, of course given. He took my refusal very seriously,
but also very gently. You can understand, however, that the
situation is a little strained. Our young friend seems to
be getting into deep waters, said Holmes thoughtfully as he
finished the letter. The case certainly presents more features of
(23:55):
interest and more possibility of development than I had originally thought.
I should be none the worse for a quiet, peaceful
day in the country, and I am inclined to run
down this afternoon and test one or two theories which
I have formed. Holmes's quiet day in the country had
a singular termination, for he arrived at Baker Street late
(24:17):
in the evening with a cut lip and a discolored
lump upon his forehead, besides a general air of dissipation,
which would have made his own person the fitting object
of a Scotland yard investigation. He was immensely tickled by
his own adventures and laughed heartily as he recounted them.
I get so little active exercise that it is always
(24:40):
a treat, said he. You are aware that I have
some proficiency in the good old British sport of boxing.
Occasionally it is of service to day. For example, I
should have come to very ignominious grief without it. I
begged him to tell me what had occurred. I found
(25:00):
that country pub, which I had already recommended to your notice,
and there I made my discreet inquiries. I was in
the bar, and a garrulous landlord was giving me all
that I wanted. Williamson is a white bearded man, and
he lives alone with a small staff of servants at
the hall. There is some rumor that he is or
(25:22):
has been, a clergyman, But one or two incidents of
his short residence at the hall struck me as peculiarly unecclesiastical.
I have already made some inquiries at a clerical agency,
and they tell me that there was a man of
that name in orders whose career has been a singularly
dark one. The landlord further informed me that there are
(25:44):
usually week end visitors, a warm lot sir at the hall,
and especially one gentleman with a red mustache, mister Woodley
by name, who was always there. We had got as
far as this when who should walk in but the
gentleman himself, who'd been drinking his beer in the tap
room and had heard the whole conversation. Who was I?
(26:08):
What did I want? What did I mean by asking questions?
He had a fine flow of language, and his adjectives
were very vigorous. He ended a string of abuse by
a vicious backhander, which I failed to entirely avoid. The
next few minutes were delicious. It was a straight left
against the slogging ruffian. I emerged as you see me.
(26:30):
Mister Woodley went home in a cart. So ended my
country trip. And it must be confessed that, however enjoyable,
my day on the Surrey border, has not been much
more profitable than your own. The Thursday brought us another
letter from our client. You will not be surprised, mister Holmes,
said she to hear that I am leaving mister Carruther's employment.
(26:54):
Even the high pay cannot reconcile me to the discomforts
of my situation. On Saturday, I came up to town,
and I do not intend to return. Mister Carruthers has
got a trap, and so the dangers of the lonely road,
if there were any dangers, are now over. As to
the special cause of my leaving, it is not merely
(27:17):
the strained situation with mister Carruthers, but it is the
reappearance of that odious man, mister Woodley. He was always hideous,
but he looks more awful than ever now, for he
appears to have had an accident, and he is much disfigured.
I saw him out of the window, but I am
glad to say that I did not meet him. He
(27:39):
had a long talk with mister Carruthers, who seemed much
excited afterwards. Woodley must be staying in the neighborhood, for
he did not sleep here, And yet I caught a
glimpse of him again this morning, slinking about in the shrubbery.
I would sooner have a savage, wild animal loose about
the place. I loathe and fear him more than I
(28:00):
can say. How can mister Carruthers endure such a creature
for a moment. However, all my troubles will be over
on Saturday. So I trust Watson. So I trust, said
Holmes gravely. There is some deep intrigue going on round
that little woman, and it is our duty to see
(28:21):
that no one molests her upon that last journey. I think, Watson,
that we must spare time to run down together on
Saturday morning and make sure that this curious and inclusive
investigation has no untoward ending. I confess that I had
not up to now taken a very serious view of
the case, which had seemed to me rather grotesque and
(28:44):
bizarre than dangerous. That a man should line, wait for,
and follow a very handsome woman is no unheard of thing.
And if he has so little audacity that he had
not only dared not address her, but even fled from
her approach, he was not a very formidable assailant. The
Ruffian Woodley was a very different person. But except on
(29:06):
one occasion, he had not molested our client, and now
he visited the house of Carruthers without intruding upon her presence.
The man on the bicycle was doubtless a member of
those weekend parties at the hall of which the publican
had spoken, but who he was or what he wanted
was as obscure as ever. It was a severity of
(29:29):
Holmes's manner, and the fact that he slipped a revolver
into his pocket before leaving our rooms, which impressed me
with the feeling that tragedy might prove to lurk behind
this curious train of events. A rainy night had been
followed by a glorious morning, and the heath covered countryside
(29:49):
with the glowing clumps of flowering gorse, seemed all the
more beautiful to eyes which were weary of the duns
and drabs and slate grays of London. Holmes and I
walked along the broad sandy Road, inhaling the fresh morning
air and rejoicing in the music of the birds and
the fresh breath of the spring. From a rise of
(30:09):
the road on the shoulder of Crooksbury Hill, we could
see the grim Hall bristling out from amidst the ancient oaks, which,
old as they were, were still younger than the building
which they surrounded. Holmes pointed down the long tract of road,
which wound a reddish yellow band between the brown of
the heath and the budding green of the woods. Far away,
(30:32):
a black dot we could see a vehicle moving in
our direction. Holmes gave an exclamation of impatience. I have
given a margin of half an hour, said he. If
that is her trap, she must be making for the
earlier train. I fear, Watson, that she will be past
Charlington before we can possibly meet her. From the instant
(30:53):
that we passed the rise, we could no longer see
the vehicle. But we hastened onward at such a pace
that my sudden life began to tell upon me, and
I was compelled to fall behind. Holmes, however, was always
in training, for he had inexhaustible stores of nervous energy
upon which to draw. His springy step never slowed, until suddenly,
(31:16):
when he was a hundred yards in front of me,
he halted, and I saw him throw up his hand
with a gesture of grief and despair. At the same instant,
an empty dog cart, the horse cantering the reins trailing,
appeared round the curve of the road and rattled swiftly
towards us. Too late, Watson, too late, cried Holmes, as
(31:40):
I ran, panting to his side. Fool that I was
not to allow for that earlier train. Its abduction, Watson, abduction, murder.
Heaven knows what block the road? Stop the horse, that's
right now, jump in and let us see if I
can repair the consequence of my own blunder. We had
sprung into the dog cart and Holmes, after turning the horse,
(32:02):
gave it a sharp cut with the whip, and we
flew back along the road. As we turned the curve,
the whole stretch of road between the hall and the
heath was opened up. I grasped Holmes's arm. That's the
man I gasped. A solitary cyclist was coming towards us.
His head was down and his shoulders round it as
(32:23):
he put every ounce of energy that he possessed on
to the pedals. He was flying like a racer. Suddenly
he raised his bearded face, saw us close to him,
and pulled up, springing from his machine. That coal black
Beard was in singular contrast to eyes were as bright
as if he had a fever. He stared at us
(32:44):
and at the dog cart. Then a look of amazement
came over his face. Hello, stop there, he shouted, holding
his bicycle to block our road. Where did you get
that dog cart? Pull up? Man, he yelled, drawing a
pistol from his pull up. I say, or by, George,
I'll put a bullet into your horse. Holmes threw the
(33:05):
reins into my lap and sprang down from the cart.
You're the man we want to see. Where is miss
Violet Smith, he said in his quick, clear way. That's
what I'm asking you. You're in her dog cart. You
ought to know where she is. We met the dog
cart on the road. There was no one in it.
(33:25):
We drove back to help the young lady. Good Lord,
good lord, what shall I do? Cried the stranger, in
an ecstasy of despair. They've got her that hell hound
Woodley and the blackguard Parson. Come, man, Come, if you
really are friend, stand by me and we'll save her.
If I have to leave my carcass in Charlington Wood
(33:49):
He ran, distractedly, his pistol in his hand, towards a
gap in the hedge. Holmes followed him, and I, leaving
the horse grazing beside the road, followed Holmes. This is
where they came through, said he, pointing to the marks
of several feet upon the muddy path. Hullo, stop, a minute.
Who's this in the bush? It was a young fellow
(34:12):
about seventeen, dressed like an ostler, with leather cords and gaiters.
He lay upon his back, his knees drawn up, a
terrible cut upon his head. He was insensible but alive.
A glance at his wound told me that it had
not penetrated the bone. That's Peter, the groom, cried the stranger.
(34:34):
He drove her. The beasts have pulled him off and
clubbed him. Let him lie. We can't do him any good,
but we may save her from that worse fate that
can befall a woman. He ran frantically down the path
which wound among the trees. We had reached the shrubbery
which surrounded the house. When homes pulled up, they didn't
(34:54):
go to the house. Here are their marks on the left,
here beside the laurel bushes, ah I said, so as
he spoke a woman's shrill scream, a scream which vibrated
with a frenzy of horror bursts from the thick green
clump of bushes in front of us. It ended suddenly
on its highest note, with a choke and a gurgle.
(35:18):
This way this way. They're in the bowling alley, cried
the stranger, darting through the bushes. Ah, the cowardly dogs
follow me, gentlemen. Too late, too late, by the living Jingo.
We had broken suddenly into a lovely glade of greensward,
surrounded by ancient trees. On the farther side of it,
(35:39):
under the shadow of a mighty oak, there stood a
singular group of three people. One was a woman, our client,
drooping and faint, a handkerchief round her mouth. Opposite her
stood a brutal, heavy faced, red mustached young man, his
gaited legs parted wide, one arm akimbo, the other waving
(35:59):
a riding crop, his whole attitude suggestive of triumphant bravado.
Between them, an elderly, gray bearded man wearing a short
surplice over a light tweed suit, had evidently just completed
the wedding service, for he pocketed his prayer book as
we appeared, and slapped the sinister bridegroom upon the back
(36:21):
in jovial congratulation. They're married, I gasped, Come on, cried
our guide. Come on. He rushed across the glade, holmes
and eye at his heels. As we approached, the lady
staggered against the trunk of the tree for support. Williamson,
(36:41):
the ex clergyman, bowed to us with mock politeness, and
the bully Woodley advanced with a shout of brutal and
exultant laughter. Ye can take your beard off, Bob said,
he MA know you right enough. Well, you and your
pals have just come in time for me to be
able to introduce to missus. Woodley. Our guide's answer was
(37:04):
a singular one. He snatched off the dark beard which
had disguised him and threw it on the ground, disclosing
a long, sallow, clean shaven face below it. Then he
raised his revolver and covered the young ruffian who was
advancing upon him with his dangerous riding crop swinging in
his hand. Yes, said our ally. I am Bob Carruthers,
(37:27):
and I'll see this woman wright it if I had
to swing for it. I told you what i'd do
if you molested her, and by the Lord, I'll be
as good as my word. You're too late. She's my wife. No,
she's your widow. His revolver cracked, and I saw the
blood spurt from the front of Woodley's waistcoat. He spun
(37:49):
round with a scream and fell upon his back, his
hideous red face turning suddenly to a dreadful, mottled pallor.
The old man, still clad in his surplice, burst into
such a string of foul oaths as I have never heard,
and pulled out a revolver of his own. But before
he could raise it, he was looking down the barrel
(38:10):
of Holmes's weapon. Enough of this, said my friend, coldly.
Drop that pistol. Watson, pick it up, hold it to
his head. Thank you, you carruthers. Give me that revolver.
We'll have no more violence. Come hand it over. Who
are you then? My name's Sherlock Holmes. Good lord, you've
(38:34):
heard of me. I see. I will represent the official
police until their arrival. Here you, he shouted to a
frightened groom who had appeared at the edge of the glade.
Come here, take this note as hard as you can,
ride to Farnham. He scribbled a few words upon a
leaf from his note book. Give it to the superintendent
at the police station until he comes. I must detain
(38:57):
you all under my personal custody. The strong, masterful personality
of Homes dominated the tragic scene, and all were equally
puppets in his hands. Williamson and Caruthers found themselves carrying
the wounded Woodley into the house, and I gave my
arm to the frightened girl. The injured man was laid
(39:18):
on his bed, and at Holmes's request, I examined him.
I carried my report to where he sat in the
old tapestry hung dining room, with his two prisoners before him.
He will live, said I what, cried Caruthers, springing out
of his chair. I'll go upstairs and finish him first.
Do you tell me that that angel is to be
(39:40):
tied to Roaring Jack Woodley for life? You need not
concern yourself about that, said Holmes. There are two very
good reasons why she should, under no circumstances, be his wife.
In the first place, we are very safe in questioning
mister Williamson's right to solemnize a marriage. I have been ordained,
(40:02):
cried the old rascal, and also unfrocked. Once a clergyman,
always a clergyman. I think not. How about the license?
We had a license for the marriage. I have it
here in my pocket. Then you got it by trick.
But in any case, a forced marriage is no marriage,
(40:23):
but it is a very serious felony, as you will
discover before you have finished. You will have time to
think to point out during the next ten years or so.
Unless I am mistaken as to you her others, you
would have done better to keep your pistol in your pocket.
I begin to think so, mister Holmes. But when I
thought of all the precaution I had taken to shield
(40:45):
this girl, for I loved her, mister Holmes, and it
is the only time that ever I knew what love was.
It fairly drove me mad to think that she was
in the power of the greatest brute and bully in
South Africa, a man whose name is a holy terror
from Kimberly to Johannesburg. Why, mister Holmes, you will hardly
(41:06):
believe it. But ever since that girl has been in
my employment, I never once let her go past this
house where I knew the rascals were lurking, without following
her on my bicycle, just to see that she came
to no harm. I kept my distance from her, and
I wore a beard so that she should not recognize me.
For she is a good and high spirited girl, and
(41:28):
She wouldn't have stayed in my employment long if she
had thought that I was following her about the country roads.
Why didn't you tell her of her danger? Because then
again she would have left me, and I couldn't bear
to face that. Even if she couldn't love me, it
was a great deal to me just to see her
(41:49):
dainty form about the house and to hear the sound
of her voice, well, said I. You call that love,
mister Carruthers, but I should call itself bishness. Maybe the
two things go together. Anyhow, I couldn't let her go. Besides,
with this crowd about, it was well that she should
(42:10):
have some one near to look after her. Then, when
the cable came, I knew they were bound to make
a move. What cable? Carruthers took a telegram from his pocket.
That's it, said he. It was short and concise. The
old man is dead. Hum said Holmes. I think I
(42:34):
see how things worked, and I can understand how this
message would, as you say, bring them to a head.
But while you wait, you might tell me what you can.
The old reprobate with the surplice burst into a volley
of bad language. By heaven, said he if you squeal
on us, Bob Carrathers, I'll serve you as you serve
(42:55):
Jack Woodly. Ye can bleat about the girl to your
heart's content, for that's your own. But if you round
on your pals to this plainclothes copper, it'll be the
worst day's work that ever you did. Your reverence need
not be excited, said Holmes, lighting a cigarette. The case
is clear enough against you, and all I ask is
a few details for my private curiosity. However, if there's
(43:19):
any difficulty in your telling me, I'll do the talking,
and then you will see how far you have a
chance of holding back your secrets. In the first place,
three of you came from South Africa on this game,
you Williamson, You Caruthers, and Woodley lie number one, said
the old man. I never saw either of them until
(43:40):
two months ago, and I've never been in Africa in
my life. So you can put that in your pipe
and smoke it. Mister busybody Holmes, what he says is true,
said Carruthers. Well, well, two of you came over. His
reverence is our own home made article. You had known
Ralph Smith in South Africa. You had reason to believe
(44:03):
he would not live long. You found out that his
niece would inherit his fortune. How's that, eh, Carruthers nodded,
and Williamson swore she was next of kin, no doubt.
And you were aware that the old fellow would make
no will. Couldn't read or write, said Caruthers. So you
came over, the two of you and hunted up the girl.
(44:26):
The idea was that one of you was to marry
her and the other have a share of the plunder.
For some reason, Woodley was chosen as the husband. Why
was that we played cards for her and on the
voyage any one I see? You got the young lady
into your service, and there Woodley was to do the courting.
(44:47):
She recognized the drunken brute that he was, and would
have nothing to do with him. Meanwhile, your arrangement was
rather upset by the fact that you had yourself fallen
in love with the lady. You could no long longer
bear the idea of this ruffian owning her. No, by George,
I couldn't. There was a quarrel between you. He left
(45:10):
you in a rage and began to make his own
plans independently of you. It strikes me Williamson. There isn't
very much that we can tell this gentleman, cried Carruthers
with a bitter laugh. Yes, we quarreled and he knocked
me down. I am level with him on that anyhow.
Then I lost sight of him. That was when he
(45:30):
picked up with this outcast padre. Here. I found that
they had set up housekeeping together at this place on
the line that she had to pass for the station.
I kept my eye on her after that, for I
knew there was some devilry in the wind. I saw
them from time to time, for I was anxious to
know what they were. After two days ago, Woodley came
(45:52):
up to my house with this cable which showed that
Ralph Smith was dead. He asked me if I would
stand by the bargain. I said I would not. He
asked me if I would marry the girl myself and
give him a share. I said I would willingly do so,
but that she would not have me. He said, let
us get her married first, and after a week or
(46:13):
two she may see things of it different. I said,
I'd have nothing to do with violence. So he went off,
cursing like the foul mouthed blackguard that he was and
swearing that he would have her. Yet she was leaving
me this weekend, and I'd got a trap to take
her to the station. But I was so uneasy in
my mind that I followed her on my bicycle. She'd
(46:36):
got a start, however, and before I could catch her,
the mischief was done. The first thing I knew about
it was when I saw you two gentlemen driving back
in her dog cart. Holmes rose and tossed the end
of his cigarette into the grate. I've been very obtuse, Watson,
said he. When in your report you said that you
(46:57):
had seen the cyclist, as you thought, arrange his neck
in the shrubbery, that alone should have told me all. However,
we may congratulate ourselves upon a curious and in some
respects a unique case. I perceive three of the county
constabulary in the drive, and I am glad to see
that the little ostler is able to keep pace with them.
(47:19):
So it is likely that neither he nor the interesting
bridegroom will be permanently damaged by their morning's adventures. I think, Watson,
that in your medical capacity, you might wait upon miss
Smith and tell her that if she is sufficiently recovered,
we shall be happy to escort her to her mother's
home if she is not quite convalescent. You will find
(47:42):
that a hint that we were about to telegraph to
a young electrician in the Midlands would probably complete the cure.
As to you, mister Carruthers, I think that you have
done what you could do to make amends for your
share in an evil plot. There is my card, sir,
and if my evidence can be of help in your trial,
it shall be at your disposal. In the whirl of
(48:05):
our incessant activity, it has often been difficult for me,
as the reader has probably observed, to round off my
narratives and to give those final details which the curious
might expect. Each case has been the prelude to another,
and the crisis, once over, the actors have passed forever
out of our busy lives. I find, however, a short
(48:27):
note at the end of my manuscript dealing with this case,
in which I have put it upon record that Miss
Violet Smith did indeed inherit a large fortune, and that
she is now the wife of Cyril Morton, the senior
partner of Morton and Kennedy, the famous Westminster Electricians. Williamson
and Woodley were both tried for abduction and assault, the
(48:50):
former getting seven years, the latter ten. Of the fate
of Carruthers, I have no record, but I am sure
that his assault was not viewed very gravely by the court,
since Woodley had the reputation of being a most dangerous Ruffian,
and I think that a few months were sufficient to
satisfy the demands of justice. End of the Adventure of
(49:14):
the Solitary Cyclist
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