Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle


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Page 56

"'Of these servants the one who had been longest in
our service was Brunton the butler. He was a young
school-master out of place when he was first taken up
by my father, but he was a man of great energy and
character, and he soon became quite invaluable in the
household. He was a well-grown, handsome man, with a
splendid forehead, and though he has been with us for
twenty years he cannot be more than forty now. With
his personal advantages and his extraordinary
gifts--for he can speak several languages and play
nearly every musical instrument--it is wonderful that
he should have been satisfied so long in such a
position, but I suppose that he was comfortable, and
lacked energy to make any change. The butler of
Hurlstone is always a thing that is remembered by all
who visit us.

"'But this paragon has one fault. He is a bit of a
Don Juan, and you can imagine that for a man like him
it is not a very difficult part to play in a quiet
country district. When he was married it was all
right, but since he has been a widower we have had no
end of trouble with him. A few months ago we were in
hopes that he was about to settle down again for he
became engaged to Rachel Howells, our second
house-maid; but he has thrown her over since then and
taken up with Janet Tregellis, the daughter of the
head game-keeper. Rachel--who is a very good girl,
but of an excitable Welsh temperament--had a sharp
touch of brain-fever, and goes about the house now--or
did until yesterday--like a black-eyed shadow of her
former self. That was our first drama at Hurlstone;
but a second one came to drive it from our minds, and
it was prefaced by the disgrace and dismissal of
butler Brunton.

"'This was how it came about. I have said that the
man was intelligent, and this very intelligence has
caused his ruin, for it seems to have led to an
insatiable curiosity about things which did not in the
least concern him. I had no idea of the lengths to
which this would carry him, until the merest accident
opened my eyes to it.

"'I have said that the house is a rambling one. One
day last week--on Thursday night, to be more exact--I
found that I could not sleep, having foolishly taken a
cup of strong caf� noir after my dinner. After
struggling against it until two in the morning, I felt
that it was quite hopeless, so I rose and lit the
candle with the intention of continuing a novel which
I was reading. The book, however, had been left in
the billiard-room, so I pulled on my dressing-gown and
started off to get it.

"'In order to reach the billiard-room I had to descend
a flight of stairs and then to cross the head of a
passage which led to the library and the gun-room.
You can imagine my surprise when, as I looked down
this corridor, I saw a glimmer of light coming from
the open door of the library. I had myself
extinguished the lamp and closed the door before
coming to bed. Naturally my first thought was of
burglars. The corridors at Hurlstone have their walls
largely decorated with trophies of old weapons. From
one of these I picked a battle-axe, and then, leaving
my candle behind me, I crept on tiptoe down the
passage and peeped in at the open door.

"'Brunton, the butler, was in the library. He was
sitting, fully dressed, in an easy-chair, with a slip
of paper which looked like a map upon his knee, and
his forehead sunk forward upon his hand in deep
thought. I stood dumb with astonishment, watching him
from the darkness. A small taper on the edge of the
table shed a feeble light which sufficed to show me
that he was fully dressed. Suddenly, as I looked, he
rose from his chair, and walking over to a bureau at
the side, he unlocked it and drew out one of the
drawers. From this he took a paper, and returning to
his seat he flattened it out beside the taper on the
edge of the table, and began to study it with minute
attention. My indignation at this calm examination of
our family documents overcame me so far that I took a
step forward, and Brunton, looking up, saw me standing
in the doorway. He sprang to his feet, his face
turned livid with fear, and he thrust into his breast
the chart-like paper which he had been originally
studying.

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Mon 22nd Dec 2025, 23:48