now who these men are,
and that for reasons of his own he suppresses it. It is just possible
that to-morrow may find him in a more communicative mood."
"Is there not one alternative," I suggested, "grotesquely improbably,
no doubt, but still just conceivable? Might the whole story of the
cataleptic Russian and his son be a concoction of Dr. Trevelyan's, who
has, for his own purposes, been in Blessington's rooms?"
I saw in the gaslight that Holmes wore an amused smile at this brilliant
departure of mine.
"My dear fellow," said he, "it was one of the first solutions which
occurred to me, but I was soon able to corroborate the doctor's tale.
This young man has left prints upon the stair-carpet which made it quite
superfluous for me to ask to see those which he had made in the room.
When I tell you that his shoes were square-toed instead of being pointed
like Blessington's, and were quite an inch and a third longer than the
doctor's, you will acknowledge that there can be no doubt as to his
individuality. But we may sleep on it now, for I shall be surprised if
we do not hear something further from Brook Street in the morning."
Sherlock Holmes's prophecy was soon fulfilled, and in a dramatic
fashion. At half-past seven next morning, in the first glimmer of
daylight, I found him standing by my bedside in his dressing-gown.
"There's a brougham waiting for us, Watson," said he.
"What's the matter, then?"
"The Brook Street business."
"Any fresh news?"
"Tragic, but ambiguous," said he, pulling up the blind. "Look at this--a
sheet from a note-book, with 'For God's sake come at once--P. T.,'
scrawled upon it in pencil. Our friend, the doctor, was hard put to
it when he wrote this. Come along, my dear fellow, for it's an urgent
call."
In a quarter of an hour or so we were back at the physician's house. He
came running out to meet us with a face of horror.
"Oh, such a business!" he cried, with his hands to his temples.
"What then?"
"Blessington has committed suicide!"
Holmes whistled.
"Yes, he hanged himself during the night."
We had entered, and the doctor had preceded us into what was evidently
his waiting-room.
"I really hardly know what I am doing," he cried. "The police are
already upstairs. It has shaken me most dreadfully."
"When did you find it out?"
"He has a cup of tea taken in to him early every morning. When the maid
entered, about seven, there the unfortunate fellow was hangi
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