degree of influence which they would exercise upon the mood and
disposition of the assassin at that time of the night.”
(Buzz of admiration; muttered remark, “By George, but he’s deep.”) He
fingered his clues. “And now let us ask these mute witnesses to speak to
us.
“Here we have an empty linen shot-bag. What is its message? This: that
robbery was the motive, not revenge. What is its further message? This:
that the assassin was of inferior intelligence–shall we say light-
witted, or perhaps approaching that? How do we know this? Because a
person of sound intelligence would not have proposed to rob the man
Buckner, who never had much money with him. But the assassin might have
been a stranger? Let the bag speak again. I take from it this article.
It is a bit of silver-bearing quartz. It is peculiar. Examine it,
please–you–and you–and you. Now pass it back, please. There is but
one lode on this coast which produces just that character and color of
quartz; and that is a lode which crops out for nearly two miles on a
stretch, and in my opinion is destined, at no distant day, to confer upon
its locality a globe-girdling celebrity, and upon its two hundred owners
riches beyond the dreams of avarice. Name that lode, please.”
“The Consolidated Christian Science and Mary Ann!” was the prompt
response.
A wild crash of hurrahs followed, and every man reached for his
neighbor’s hand and wrung it, with tears in his eyes; and Wells-Fargo
Ferguson shouted, “The Straight Flush is on the lode, and up she goes to
a hunched and fifty a foot–you hear me!”
When quiet fell, Mr. Holmes resumed:
“We perceive, then, that three facts are established, to wit: the
assassin was approximately light-witted; he was not a stranger; his
motive was robbery, not revenge. Let us proceed. I hold in my hand a
small fragment of fuse, with the recent smell of fire upon it. What is
its testimony? Taken with the corroborative evidence of the quartz, it
reveals to us that the assassin was a miner. What does it tell us
further? This, gentlemen: that the assassination was consummated by
means of an explosive. What else does it say? This: that the explosive
was located against the side of the cabin nearest the road–the front
side–for within six feet of that spot I found it.
“I hold in my fingers a burnt Swedish match–the kind one rubs on a
safety-box. I found it in the road, six hundred and twenty-two feet from
the abolished cabin. What does it say? This: that the train was fired
from that point. What further does it tell us? This: that the assassin
was left-handed. How do I know this? I should not be able to explain to
you, gentlemen, how I know it, the signs being so subtle that only long
experience and deep study can enable one to detect them. But the signs
are here, and they are reinforced by a fact which you must have often
noticed in the great detective narratives–that all assassins are left-
handed.”
“By Jackson, that’s so.” said Ham Sandwich, bringing his great hand down
with a resounding slap upon his thigh; “blamed if I ever thought of it
before.”
“Nor I!” “Nor I!” cried several. “Oh, there can’t anything escape him–
look at his eye!”
“Gentlemen, distant as the murderer was from his doomed victim, he did
not wholly escape injury. This fragment of wood which I now exhibit to
you struck him. It drew blood. Wherever he is, he bears the telltale
mark. I picked it up where he stood when he fired the fatal train,”
He looked out over the house from his high perch, and his countenance
began to darken; he slowly raised his hand, and pointed:
“There stands the assassin!”
For a moment the house was paralyzed with amazement; then twenty voices
burst out with:
“Sammy Hillyer? Oh, hell, no! Him? It’s pure foolishness!”
“Take care, gentlemen–be not hasty. Observe–he has the blood-mark on
his brow.”
Hillyer turned white with fright. He was near to crying. He turned this
way and that, appealing to every face for help and sympathy; and held out