Sir Arthur Ignatius Conan Doyle
Adventure of the Dancing Men Page 8
Inspector Martin had the good sense to allow my friend to do things in his own fashion, and contented
himself with carefully noting the results. The local surgeon, an old, white-haired man, had just come
down from Mrs. Hilton Cubitt's room, and he reported that her injuries were serious, but not necessarily
fatal. The bullet had passed through the front of her brain, and it would probably be some time before
she could regain consciousness. On the question of whether she had been shot or had shot herself he
would not venture to express any decided opinion. Certainly the bullet had been discharged at very
close quarters. There was only the one pistol found in the room, two barrels of which had been emptied.
Mr. Hilton Cubitt had been shot through the heart. It was equally conceivable that he had shot her and
then himself, or that she had been the criminal, for the revolver lay upon the floor midway between
them. "Has he been moved?" asked Holmes.
"We have moved nothing except the lady. We could not leave her lying wounded upon the floor." "How
long have you been here, doctor?" "Since four o'clock." "Anyone else?" "Yes, the constable here." "And
you have touched nothing?" "Nothing." "You have acted with great discretion. Who sent for you?" "The
housemaid, Saunders." "Was it she who gave the alarm?" "She and Mrs. King, the cook." "Where are they
now?" "In the kitchen, I believe." "Then I think we had better hear their story at once." The old hall, oak-
panelled and high-windowed, had been turned into a court of investigation. Holmes sat in a great, old-
fashioned chair, his inexorable eyes gleaming out of his haggard face. I could read in them a set purpose
to devote his life to this quest until the client whom he had failed to save should at last be avenged. The
trim Inspector Martin, the old, grey-headed country doctor, myself, and a stolid village policeman made
up the rest of that strange company.
The two women told their story clearly enough. They had been aroused from their sleep by the sound of
an explosion, which had been followed a minute later by a second one. They slept in adjoining rooms,
and Mrs. King had rushed in to Saunders. Together they had descended the stairs. The door of the study
was open and a candle was burning upon the table. Their master lay upon his face in the centre of the
room. He was quite dead. Near the window his wife was crouching, her head leaning against the wall.
She was horribly wounded, and the side of her face was red with blood. She breathed heavily, but was
incapable of saying anything. The passage, as well as the room, was full of smoke and the smell of
powder. The window was certainly shut and fastened upon the inside. Both women were positive upon
the point. They had at once sent for the doctor and for the constable. Then, with the aid of the groom
and the stable-boy, they had conveyed their injured mistress to her room. Both she and her husband
had occupied the bed. She was clad in her dress -- he in his dressing-gown, over his night clothes.
Nothing had been moved in the study. So far as they knew there had never been any quarrel between
husband and wife. They had always looked upon them as a very united couple.