Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle


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Page 66

"No clue?" asked Holmes, cocking his eye at the
Colonel.

"None as yet. But the affair is a pretty one, one of
our little country crimes, which must seem too small
for your attention, Mr. Holmes, after this great
international affair."

Holmes waved away the compliment, though his smile
showed that it had pleased him.

"Was there any feature of interest?"

"I fancy not. The thieves ransacked the library and
got very little for their pains. The whole place was
turned upside down, drawers burst open, and presses
ransacked, with the result that an odd volume of
Pope's 'Homer,' two plated candlesticks, an ivory
letter-weight, a small oak barometer, and a ball of
twine are all that have vanished."

"What an extraordinary assortment!" I exclaimed.

"Oh, the fellows evidently grabbed hold of everything
they could get."

Holmes grunted from the sofa.

"The county police ought to make something of that,"
said he; "why, it is surely obvious that--"

But I held up a warning finger.

"You are here for a rest, my dear fellow. For
Heaven's sake don't get started on a new problem when
your nerves are all in shreds."

Holmes shrugged his shoulders with a glance of comic
resignation towards the Colonel, and the talk drifted
away into less dangerous channels.

It was destined, however, that all my professional
caution should be wasted, for next morning the problem
obtruded itself upon us in such a way that it was
impossible to ignore it, and our country visit took a
turn which neither of us could have anticipated. We
were at breakfast when the Colonel's butler rushed in
with all his propriety shaken out of him.

"Have you heard the news, sir?" he gasped. "At the
Cunningham's sir!"

"Burglary!" cried the Colonel, with his coffee-cup in
mid-air.

"Murder!"

The Colonel whistled. "By Jove!" said he. "Who's
killed, then? The J.P. or his son?"

"Neither, sir. It was William the coachman. Shot
through the heart, sir, and never spoke again."

"Who shot him, then?"

"The burglar, sir. He was off like a shot and got
clean away. He'd just broke in at the pantry window
when William came on him and met his end in saving his
master's property."

"What time?"

"It was last night, sir, somewhere about twelve."

"Ah, then, we'll step over afterwards," said the
Colonel, coolly settling down to his breakfast again.
"It's a baddish business," he added when the butler
had gone; "he's our leading man about here, is old
Cunningham, and a very decent fellow too. He'll be
cut up over this, for the man has been in his service
for years and was a good servant. It's evidently the
same villains who broke into Acton's."

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Books | Photos | Paul Mutton | Thu 25th Dec 2025, 17:00