"Now, Watson," said Holmes, rubbing his hands, "we have half an hour to ourselves. Let us make good use of it. My case is, as I have told you, almost complete; but we must not err on the side of over-confidence. Simple as the case seems now, there may be something deeper underlying it."
"Simple!"
"Surely," said he, with something of the air of a clinical professor expounding to his class. "Just sit in the corner there, that your footprints may not complicate matters. Now to work! In the first place, how did these folk come, and how did they go? The door has not been opened since last night. How of the window?" He carried the lamp across to it, muttering his observations aloud the while, but addressing them to himself rather than to me. "Window is snibbed on the inner side. Framework is solid. No hinges at the side. Let us open it. No water-pipe near. Roof quite out of reach. Yet a man has mounted by the window. It rained a little last night. Here is the print of a foot in mould upon the sill. And here is a circular muddy mark, and here again upon the floor, and here again by the table. See here, Watson! This is really a very pretty demonstration."

I looked at the round, well-defined muddy discs. "This is not a footmark," said I.
"It is something much more valuable to us. It is the impression of a wooden stump. You see here on the sill is the boot-mark, a heavy boot with the broad metal heel, and beside it is the mark of the timber-toe."

"It is the wooden-legged man."

"Quite so. But there has been some one else,—a very able and efficient ally. Could you scale that wall, doctor?"
I looked out of the open window. The moon still shone brightly on that angle of the house. We were a good sixty feet from the ground, and, look where I would, I could see no foothold, nor as much as a crevice in the brick-work.
"It is absolutely impossible," I answered.
"Without aid it is so. But suppose you had a friend up here who lowered you this good stout rope which I see in the corner, securing one end of it to this great hook in the wall. Then, I think, if you were an active man, You might swarm up, wooden leg and all. You would depart, of course, in the same fashion, and your ally would draw up the rope, untie it from the hook, shut the window, snib it on the inside, and get away in the way that he originally came. As a minor point it may be noted," he continued, fingering the rope, "that our wooden-legged friend, though a fair climber, was not a professional sailor. His hands were far from horny. My lens discloses more than one blood-mark, especially towards the end of the rope, from which I gather that he slipped down with such velocity that he took the skin off his hand."
"This is all very well," said I, "but the thing becomes more unintelligible than ever. How about this mysterious ally? How came he into the room?"

"Yes, the ally!" repeated Holmes, pensively. "There are features of interest about this ally. He lifts the case from the regions of the commonplace. I fancy that this ally breaks fresh ground in the annals of crime in this country,—though parallel cases suggest themselves from India, and, if my memory serves me, from Senegambia."
"How came he, then?" I reiterated. "The door is locked, the window is inaccessible. Was it through the chimney?"
"The grate is much too small," he answered. "I had already considered that possibility."
"How then?" I persisted.
"You will not apply my precept," he said, shaking his head. "How often have I said to you that when you have eliminated the impossible whatever remains, HOWEVER IMPROBABLE, must be the truth? We know that he did not come through the door, the window, or the chimney. We also know that he could not have been concealed in the room, as there is no concealment possible. Whence, then, did he come?"
"He came through the hole in the roof," I cried.
"Of course he did. He must have done so. If you will have the kindness to hold the lamp for me, we shall now extend our researches to the room above,—the secret room in which the treasure was found."
He mounted the steps, and, seizing a rafter with either hand, he swung himself up into the garret. Then, lying on his face, he reached down for the lamp and held it while I followed him.
The chamber in which we found ourselves was about ten feet one way and six the other. The floor was formed by the rafters, with thin lath-and-plaster between, so that in walking one had to step from beam to beam. The roof ran up to an apex, and was evidently the inner shell of the true roof of the house. There was no furniture of any sort, and the accumulated dust of years lay thick upon the floor.
"Here you are, you see," said Sherlock Holmes, putting his hand against the sloping wall. "This is a trap-door which leads out on to the roof. I can press it back, and here is the roof itself, sloping at a gentle angle. This, then, is the way by which Number One entered. Let us see if we can find any other traces of his individuality."
He held down the lamp to the floor, and as he did so I saw for the second time that night a startled, surprised look come over his face. For myself, as I followed his gaze my skin was cold under my clothes. The floor was covered thickly with the prints of a naked foot,—clear, well defined, perfectly formed, but scarce half the size of those of an ordinary man.
"Holmes," I said, in a whisper, "a child has done the horrid thing."
He had recovered his self-possession in an instant.

"I was staggered for the moment," he said, "but the thing is quite natural. My memory failed me, or I should have been able to foretell it. There is nothing more to be learned here. Let us go down."

"What is your theory, then, as to those footmarks?" I asked, eagerly, when we had regained the lower room once more.
"My dear Watson, try a little analysis yourself," said he, with a touch of impatience. "You know my methods. Apply them, and it will be instructive to compare results."
"I cannot conceive anything which will cover the facts," I answered.
"It will be clear enough to you soon," he said, in an off-hand way. "I think that there is nothing else of importance here, but I will look." He whipped out his lens and a tape measure, and hurried about the room on his knees, measuring, comparing, examining, with his long thin nose only a few inches from the planks, and his beady eyes gleaming and deep-set like those of a bird. So swift, silent, and furtive were his movements, like those of a trained blood-hound picking out a scent, that I could not but think what a terrible criminal he would have made had he turned his energy and sagacity against the law, instead of exerting them in its defense. As he hunted about, he kept muttering to himself, and finally he broke out into a loud crow of delight.

"We are certainly in luck," said he. "We ought to have very little trouble now. Number One has had the misfortune to tread in the creosote. You can see the outline of the edge of his small foot here at the side of this evil-smelling mess. The carboy has been cracked, You see, and the stuff has leaked out."
"What then?" I asked.
"Why, we have got him, that's all," said he. "I know a dog that would follow that scent to the world's end. If a pack can track a trailed herring across a shire, how far can a specially-trained hound follow so pungent a smell as this? It sounds like a sum in the rule of three. The answer should give us the—But halloo! here are the accredited representatives of the law."

Heavy steps and the clamor of loud voices were audible from below, and the hall door shut with a loud crash."Before they come," said Holmes, "just put your hand here on this poor fellow's arm, and here on his leg. What do you feel?"
"The muscles are as hard as a board," I answered.
"Quite so. They are in a state of extreme contraction, far exceeding the usual rigor mortis. Coupled with this distortion of the face, this Hippocratic smile, or 'risus sardonicus,' as the old writers called it, what conclusion would it suggest to your mind?"

"Death from some powerful vegetable alkaloid," I answered,—"some strychnine-like substance which would produce tetanus."
"That was the idea which occurred to me the instant I saw the drawn muscles of the face. On getting into the room I at once looked for the means by which the poison had entered the system. As you saw, I discovered a thorn which had been driven or shot with no great force into the scalp. You observe that the part struck was that which would be turned towards the hole in the ceiling if the man were erect in his chair. Now examine the thorn."
I took it up gingerly and held it in the light of the lantern. It was long, sharp, and black, with a glazed look near the point as though some gummy substance had dried upon it. The blunt end had been trimmed and rounded off with a knife.
"Is that an English thorn?" he asked.
"No, it certainly is not."
"With all these data you should be able to draw some just inference. But here are the regulars: so the auxiliary forces may beat a retreat."
As he spoke, the steps which had been coming nearer sounded loudly on the age, and a very stout, portly man in a gray suit strode heavily into the room. He was red-faced, burly and plethoric, with a pair of very small twinkling eyes which looked keenly out from between swollen and puffy pouches. He was closely followed by an inspector in uniform, and by the still palpitating Thaddeus Sholto.

"Here's a business!" he cried, in a muffled, husky voice. "Here's a pretty business! But who are all these? Why, the house seems to be as full as a rabbit-warren!"

"I think you must recollect me, Mr. Athelney Jones," said Holmes, quietly.
"Why, of course I do!" he wheezed. "It's Mr. Sherlock Holmes, the theorist. you! I'll never forget how you lectured us all on causes and inferences and effects in the Bishopgate jewel case. It's true you set us on the right track; but you'll own now that it was more by good luck than good guidance."
"It was a piece of very simple reasoning."
"Oh, come, now, come! Never be ashamed to own up. But what is all this? Bad business! Bad business! Stern facts here,—no room for theories. How lucky that I happened to be out at Norwood over another case! I was at the station when the message arrived. What d'you think the man died of?"
"Oh, this is hardly a case for me to theorize over," said Holmes, dryly.
"No, no. Still, we can't deny that you hit the nail on the head sometimes. Dear me! Door locked, I understand. Jewels worth half a million missing. How was the window?"

"Fastened; but there are steps on the sill."
"Well, well, if it was fastened the steps could have nothing to do with the matter. That's common sense. Man might have died in a fit; but then the jewels are missing. Ha! I have a theory. These flashes come upon me at times.—Just step outside, sergeant, and you, Mr. Sholto. Your friend can remain.—What do you think of this, Holmes? Sholto was, on his own confession, with his brother last night. The brother died in a fit, on which Sholto walked off with the treasure. How's that?"
"On which the dead man very considerately got up and locked the door on the inside."

"Hum! There's a flaw there. Let us apply common sense to the matter. This Thaddeus Sholto WAS with his brother; there WAS a quarrel; so much we know. The brother is dead and the jewels are gone. So much also we know. No one saw the brother from the time Thaddeus left him. His bed had not been slept in. Thaddeus is evidently in a most disturbed state of mind. His appearance is—well, not attractive. You see that I am weaving my web round Thaddeus. The net begins to close upon him."
"You are not quite in possession of the facts yet," said Holmes.

"This splinter of wood, which I have every reason to believe to be poisoned, was in the man's scalp where you still see the mark; this card, inscribed as you see it, was on the table; and beside it lay this rather curious stone-headed instrument. How does all that fit into your theory?"

"Confirms it in every respect," said the fat detective, pompously. "House is full of Indian curiosities. Thaddeus brought this up, and if this splinter be poisonous Thaddeus may as well have made murderous use of it as any other man. The card is some hocus-pocus,—a blind, as like as not. The only question is, how did he depart? Ah, of course, here is a hole in the roof." With great activity, considering his bulk, he sprang up the steps and squeezed through into the garret, and immediately afterwards we heard his exulting voice proclaiming that he had found the trap-door.
"He can find something," remarked Holmes, shrugging his shoulders. "He has occasional glimmerings of reason. Il n'y a pas des sots si incommodes que ceux qui ont de l'esprit!"
"You see!" said Athelney Jones, reappearing down the steps again. "Facts are better than mere theories, after all. My view of the case is confirmed. There is a trap-door communicating with the roof, and it is partly open."
"It was I who opened it."
"Oh, indeed! You did notice it, then?" He seemed a little crestfallen at the discovery. "Well, whoever noticed it, it shows how our gentleman got away. Inspector!"
"Yes, sir," from the age.
"Ask Mr. Sholto to step this way.—Mr. Sholto, it is my duty to inform you that anything which you may say will be used against you. I arrest you in the queen's name as being concerned in the death of your brother."
"There, now! Didn't I tell you!" cried the poor little man, throwing out his hands, and looking from one to the other of us.
"Don't trouble yourself about it, Mr. Sholto," said Holmes. "I think that I can engage to clear you of the charge."
"Don't promise too much, Mr. Theorist,—don't promise too much!" snapped the detective. "You may find it a harder matter than you think."
"Not only will I clear him, Mr. Jones, but I will make you a free present of the name and description of one of the two people who were in this room last night. His name, I have every reason to believe, is Jonathan Small. He is a poorly-educated man, small, active, with his right leg off, and wearing a wooden stump which is worn away upon the inner side. His left boot has a coarse, square-toed sole, with an iron band round the heel. He is a middle-aged man, much sunburned, and has been a convict. These few indications may be of some assistance to you, coupled with the fact that there is a good deal of skin missing from the palm of his hand. The other man—"
"Ah! the other man—?" asked Athelney Jones, in a sneering voice, but impressed none the less, as I could easily see, by the precision of the other's manner.
"Is a rather curious person," said Sherlock Holmes, turning upon his heel. "I hope before very long to be able to introduce you to the pair of them.—A word with you, Watson."
He led me out to the head of the stair. "This unexpected occurrence," he said, "has caused us rather to lose sight of the original purpose of our journey."
"I have just been thinking so," I answered. "It is not right that Miss Morstan should remain in this stricken house."
"No. You must escort her home. She lives with Mrs. Cecil Forrester, in Lower Camberwell: so it is not very far. I will wait for you here if you will drive out again. Or perhaps you are too tired?"
"By no means. I don't think I could rest until I know more of this fantastic business. I have seen something of the rough side of life, but I give you my word that this quick succession of strange surprises to-night has shaken my nerve completely. I should like, however, to see the matter through with you, now that I have got so far."

"Your presence will be of great service to me," he answered. "We shall work the case out independently, and leave this fellow Jones to exult over any mare's-nest which he may choose to construct. When you have dropped Miss Morstan I wish you to go on to No. 3 Pinchin Lane, down near the water's edge at Lambeth. The third house on the right-hand side is a bird-stuffer's: Sherman is the name. You will see a weasel holding a young rabbit in the window. Knock old Sherman up, and tell him, with my compliments, that I want Toby at once. You will bring Toby back in the cab with you."

"A dog, I suppose."
"Yes,—a queer mongrel, with a most amazing power of scent. I would rather have Toby's help than that of the whole detective force of London."
"I shall bring him, then," said I. "It is one now. I ought to be back before three, if I can get a fresh horse."

Sherlock Holmes hace una demostracin

––Y ahora, Watson ––dijo Holmes, frotndose las manos––, disponemos de media hora, as que vamos a aprovecharla. Como ya le he dicho, tengo el caso prcticamente completo; pero no hay que errar por exceso de confianza. Aunque ahora el caso parece muy sencillo, puede que oculte alguna complicacin.
––Sencillo!
––Pues claro ––dijo l, con cierto aire de profesor de medicina explicando en clase––. Ande, sintese en ese rincn para que sus pisadas no compliquen el asunto. Y ahora, a trabajar! En primer lugar: cmo entr esa gente, y cmo sali? La puerta no se ha abierto desde anoche. Y la ventana?
Acerc la lmpara a la ventana, comentando en voz alta sus observaciones, pero hablando ms consigo mismo que conmigo.
––La ventana est cerrada por la parte de dentro. El marco es slido. No hay bisagras a los lados. Vamos a abrirla. No hay tuberas cerca. El tejado est fuera del alcance. Sin embargo, a esta ventana ha subido un hombre. Anoche llovi un poco y aqu en el alfizar se ve la huella de un pie. Y aqu hay una huella circular de barro, y tambin ah en el suelo, y otra ms junto a la mesa. Mire esto, Watson! sta s que es una bonita demostracin.
Yo mir los discos de barro, redondos y bien definidos.
––Eso no es una pisada ––dije.
––Es algo que para nosotros tiene mucho ms valor. Es la huella de una pata de palo. Ve? Aqu en el alfizar de la ventana hay una huella de bota, una bota pesada, con refuerzo metlico en el tacn; Y, junto a ella, la huella de la pata de palo.
––El hombre de la pata de palo!
––Exacto. Pero aqu ha habido alguien ms. Un cmplice muy hbil y eficiente. Sera usted capaz de escalar esa pared, doctor?
Mir por la ventana abierta. La luna segua iluminando bien aquella esquina de la casa. Estbamos por lo menos a dieciocho metros del suelo y, por mucho que mir, no pude encontrar ningn asidero ni punto de apoyo, ni tan siquiera una grieta en la pared de ladrillo.
––Es completamente imposible ––respond.
––Sin ayuda, desde luego. Pero suponga que tiene usted un amigo aqu arriba que le echa esa cuerda tan buena y resistente que hay en ese rincn, atando un extremo a ese gancho de la pared. De ese modo, si fuera usted un hombre gil, yo creo que podra trepar, a pesar de la pata de palo. Luego se marchara, claro est, de la misma manera, y su cmplice recogera la cuerda, la desatara del gancho, cerrara la ventana, echara el pestillo por dentro y se marchara por donde haba venido. Como detalle secundario ––continu, pasando los dedos por la cuerda––, podemos aadir que nuestro amigo de la pata de palo, a pesar de ser buen escalador, no es un marino profesional. No tiene las manos encallecidas. Mi lupa descubre ms de una mancha de sangre, sobre todo hacia el final de la cuerda, de lo que deduzco que se dej deslizar a tal velocidad que se despellej las manos.
––Todo eso est muy bien ––dije yo––, pero el asunto se vuelve ms incomprensible que nunca. Qu me dice de ese misterioso cmplice? Cmo entr en la habitacin?
––S, el cmplice! ––repiti Holmes, pensativo––. Esta cuestin del cmplice tiene aspectos interesantes. Es lo que eleva el caso por encima de la vulgaridad. Me da la impresin de que este cmplice abre nuevos campos en los anales del crimen en este pas..., aunque se han dado casos similares en la India y, si no me falla la memoria, en Senegambia.
––A ver: cmo entr? ––insist––. La puerta est cerrada, la ventana es inaccesible. Entr por la chimenea?
––La rejilla es demasiado pequea ––respondi––. Ya haba considerado esa posibilidad.
––Pues entonces, cmo? ––insist.
––Se empea en no aplicar mis preceptos ––dijo l, meneando la cabeza––. Cuntas veces le he dicho que si eliminamos lo imposible, lo que queda, por improbable que parezca, tiene que ser la verdad? Sabemos que no entr por la puerta, ni por la ventana, ni por la chimenea. Tambin sabemos que no poda estar escondido en la habitacin, ya que no hay escondite posible. As pues, por dnde entr?
––Por el agujero del techo! ––exclam.
––Pues claro. Tiene que haber entrado por ah. Si tiene la amabilidad de sujetar la lmpara, extenderemos nuestras investigaciones al cuarto de arriba. El cuarto secreto donde se encontr el tesoro.
Se subi a la escalerilla y, agarrndose a una viga con cada mano, se iz hasta el desvn. Luego se tumb boca abajo para recoger la lmpara y la sostuvo mientras yo le segua.
La cmara en la que nos encontrbamos meda unos tres metros por dos. El suelo estaba formado por las vigas, con listones y yeso entre medias, de manera que haba que andar poniendo los pies de viga en viga. El techo abuhardillado terminaba en punta y era evidentemente la parte interior del verdadero tejado de la casa. No haba muebles de ninguna clase, y en el suelo se acumulaba el polvo de muchos aos en una gruesa capa.
––Ah lo tiene. Lo ve? ––dijo Sherlock Holmes, apoyando la mano en la pared inclinada––. Aqu hay una trampilla que da al tejado. La empujo y aqu est el tejado mismo, levemente inclinado. As pues, por aqu entr el Nmero Uno. Veamos si podemos encontrar alguna otra huella de su personalidad.
Dej la lmpara en el suelo y al hacerlo vi que, por segunda vez en aquella noche, en su rostro apareca una expresin de sorpresa y sobresalto. En cuanto a m, segu su mirada y sent un escalofro bajo mis ropas. El suelo estaba cubierto de huellas de pies desnudos: claras, bien definidas, perfectamente formadas, pero apenas la mitad de grandes que las de un hombre normal.
––Holmes ––dije en un susurro––, ha sido un nio el que ha hecho este horrible trabajo.
El haba recuperado en un instante el control de s mismo.
––Por un momento, me ha desconcertado ––dijo––, pero es algo muy natural. Lo que pasa es que me fall la memoria; de lo contrario, me lo habra imaginado de antemano. De aqu no sacaremos nada ms. Vamos abajo.
––Y cul es su teora acerca de esas huellas? ––pregunt.
––Querido Watson, intente analizarlo usted mismo ––dijo con un tonillo de impaciencia––. Conoce mis mtodos. Aplquelos y ser muy instructivo comparar los resultados.
––No se me ocurre nada que abarque los hechos ––respond.
––Pronto lo ver todo claro ––dijo con aire despreocupado––. No creo que aqu quede ninguna otra cosa de inters, pero echar una mirada.
Sac la lupa y una cinta mtrica y recorri la habitacin de rodillas, midiendo, comparando, examinando, con su larga nariz a pocos centmetros de las tablas del suelo y sus ojos redondos brillando desde el fondo de sus cuencas, como los de un pjaro. Tan rpidos, silenciosos y furtivos eran sus movimientos, como los de un sabueso bien adiestrado siguiendo un rastro, que no pude evitar pensar en el terrible criminal que habra podido ser si hubiera aplicado su energa y sagacidad en contra de la ley, en lugar de aplicarlas en su defensa. Mientras husmeaba, no paraba de murmurar para s mismo, hasta que al final estall en un fuerte cacareo de jbilo.
––Desde luego, estamos de suerte ––dijo––. De aqu en adelante, ya no deberamos tener problemas. El Nmero Uno ha tenido la desgracia de pisar la creosota. Vea el contorno de su piececito ah, al lado de ese pringue maloliente. Como ve, la garrafa se ha agrietado, y el producto se ha derramado.
––Y eso, qu? ––pregunt.
––Pues que ya lo tenemos, as de simple ––dijo l––. Conozco un perro capaz de seguir ese olor hasta el fin del mundo. Si una jaura es capaz de seguir el rastro de un arenque por todo un condado, qu no podr hacer un perro especialmente adiestrado con un olor tan penetrante como ste? Es como un problema de regla de tres. La respuesta nos dar el... Ah, vaya! Aqu tenemos a los representantes oficiales de la ley.
De la planta baja llegaba el sonido de fuertes pisadas y un clamor de voces, y la puerta del vestbulo se cerr con un ruidoso portazo.
––Antes de que lleguen ––dijo Holmes––, ponga la mano aqu, en el brazo de este pobre hombre, y aqu, en la pierna. Qu nota?
––Los msculos estn duros como una tabla ––respond.
––Exacto. Estn en un estado de contraccin extrema, que supera con mucho el rigor mortis normal. Si combinamos eso con esta distorsin de la cara, esta sonrisa hipocrtica o risus sardonicus como la llamaban los autores antiguos, qu conclusin se le ocurre?
––Muerte causada por algn potente alcaloide vegetal ––respond––. Alguna sustancia parecida a la estricnina, capaz de provocar ttanos.
––Eso es lo que se me ocurri a m desde el instante mismo en que vi los msculos contrados de la cara. En cuanto entr en la habitacin, lo primero que busqu fue el medio empleado para inocular el veneno. Como usted vio, encontr una espina en el cuero cabelludo, clavada o disparada sin mucha fuerza. Fjese en que, si el hombre estaba sentado derecho, la espina se clav en la parte que daba al agujero del techo. Y ahora, examinemos la espina.
La cog con cuidado y la sostuve a la luz de la linterna. Era larga, afilada y negra, con una especie de esmalte hacia la punta, como si all se hubiera secado alguna sustancia resinosa. El extremo romo haba sido cortado y redondeado con un cuchillo.
––Es una espina inglesa? ––pregunt Holmes.
––No, desde luego que no.
––Pues con todos estos datos, ya debera usted haber sacado alguna deduccin correcta. Pero aqu llegan las fuerzas oficiales; lo mejor ser que las fuerzas auxiliares nos batamos en retirada.
Mientras Holmes hablaba, los pasos se haban ido acercando y ya resonaban con fuerza en el pasillo. Un hombre muy corpulento y de aire autoritario, vestido con un traje gris, entr dando zancadas en la habitacin. Tena el rostro colorado, voluminoso y pletrico, con un par de ojillos muy pequeos y centelleantes, que miraban con viveza entre unos prpados hinchados y fofos. Le seguan de cerca un inspector de uniforme y el todava tembloroso Thaddeus Sholto.
––Aqu hay lo! ––dijo con voz ronca y apagada––. Un bonito lo! Pero quines son todos stos? Caramba, esta casa parece tan llena como una madriguera de conejos!
––Supongo que se acordar de m, seor Athelney Jones ––dijo Holmes, muy tranquilo.
––Pues claro que s! ––resoll el polica––. Es el seor Sherlock Holmes, el terico. Que si me acuerdo! Nunca olvidar la charla que nos dio sobre causas, inferencias y efectos en el caso de las joyas de Bishopgate. Es cierto que nos puso sobre la buena pista; pero ahora reconocer que fue ms por buena suerte que por buen criterio.
––Fue un trabajo de razonamiento muy sencillo.
––Ande, ande! No le d vergenza reconocerlo. Pero qu es todo esto? Mal asunto, mal asunto! Aqu tenemos hechos escuetos. No hay lugar para teoras. Ha sido una suerte que yo estuviera en Norwood, ocupndome de otro caso. Estaba en la comisara cuando lleg el mensaje. De qu cree usted que muri este tipo?
––Oh, no creo que sea un caso en el que yo pueda teorzar ––dijo Holmes secamente.
––No, claro que no. Aun as, no se puede negar que a veces da usted en el clavo. Vlgame Dios! Me dicen que la puerta estaba cerrada. Y que faltan joyas que valan medio milln. Qu hay de la ventana?
––Cerrada; pero hay pisadas en el alfizar.
––Bueno, bueno. Si estaba cerrada, esas pisadas no pueden tener nada que ver con el asunto. Eso es de sentido comn. Puede que el hombre haya muerto de un ataque; pero el caso es que han desaparecido las joyas. Aj! Tengo una teora. A veces me vienen de golpe. Haga el favor de salir fuera, sargento, y usted tambin, seor Sholto. Su amigo puede quedarse. Qu opina de esto, Holmes? Segn ha confesado l mismo, Sholto estuvo con su hermano anoche. El hermano muri de un ataque y Sholto se larg con el tesoro. Qu le parece?
Y luego, el muerto tuvo la gentileza de levantarse y cerrar la puerta por dentro.
––Hum! S, ah hay algo que falla. Apliquemos al asunto el sentido comn. Este Sholto estuvo con su hermano. Hubo una pelea. Eso nos consta. El hermano est muerto y las joyas han desaparecido; eso tambin nos consta. Nadie ha visto al hermano desde que Thaddeus lo dej. No ha dormido en su cama. Thaddeus se encuentra en un estado de alteracin mental de lo ms evidente. Su aspecto es..., bueno, no es nada atractivo. Como ve, estoy tejiendo mi red en torno a Thaddeus. Y la red empieza a cerrarse sobre l.
––No conoce an todos los hechos ––dijo Holmes––. Esta astilla de madera, que tengo buenas razones para suponer que est envenenada, estaba clavada en el cuero cabelludo del muerto; an se puede ver la seal. Este papel, con esta inscripcin que usted ve, estaba sobre la mesa. Y junto a l estaba ese curioso instrumento con cabeza de piedra. Cmo encaja todo esto en su teora?
––La confirma en todos los aspectos ––dijo pomposamente el obeso polica––. La casa est llena de curiosidades indias. Thaddeus debi de subir este chisme. Y si esta astilla es venenosa, Thaddeus puede haberla usado para matar tan bien como cualquier otro. El papel es una tomadura de pelo, una pista falsa, probablemente. El nico problema es: cmo se march? Ah, claro, hay un agujero en el techo. Con sorprendente agilidad, dado su tamao, trep por la escalerilla y se escurri en el desvn; un instante despus, omos su voz jubilosa, anunciando que haba encontrado la trampilla.
––A veces encuentra algo ––coment Holmes, encogindose de hombros–– . De cuando en cuando tiene algn chispazo de razn il n'y a pas des sots si incomodes que ceux qui ont de l’sprit!
––Lo ven? ––dijo Athelney Jones, reapareciendo escalera abajo––. A fin de cuentas, los hechos valen ms que las teoras. Se confirma mi opinin del caso. Hay una trampilla que da al tejado, y est medio abierta.
––La abr yo.
––Ah, s? Conque se haba fijado, eh? ––pareca un poco decepcionado por la noticia––. Bueno, la viera quien la viera, ya sabemos por dnde escap nuestro caballero. Inspector!
––S, seor? ––respondieron desde el pasillo.
––Dgale al seor Sholto que venga para ac. Seor Sholto, es mi deber informarle de que cualquier cosa que diga podr utilizarse en contra suya. Queda usted detenido en nombre de la reina, por participacin en la muerte de su hermano.
––Ya est! No se lo dije? ––exclam el pobre hombre, extendiendo las manos y mirndonos a Holmes y a m.
––No se preocupe, seor Sholto ––dijo Holmes––. Creo que puedo comprometerme a librarle de esta acusacin.
––No prometa demasiado, seor terico, no prometa demasiado ––cort el polica––. Podra resultarle ms difcil de lo que cree.
––No slo le librar de la acusacin, seor Jones, sino que voy a hacerle a usted un regalo: le voy a dar, completamente gratis, el nombre y la descripcin de una de las dos personas que estuvieron aqu anoche. Tengo toda clase de razones para creer que se llama Jonathan Small. Es un hombre sin estudios, pequeo y gil; le falta la pierna derecha y lleva una pata de palo que est desgastada por la parte de dentro. En el pie izquierdo calza una bota de suela gruesa y puntera cuadrada, con un refuerzo de hierro en el tacn. Es un hombre de mediana edad, muy curtido por el sol, y ha estado en la crcel. Puede que estos pocos datos le sirvan de alguna ayuda, sobre todo si aadimos que le falta una buena parte de la piel de la palma de la mano. El otro hombre...
––Ah! Conque hay otro? ––pregunt Athelney Jones en tono burln, aunque pude darme cuenta de que estaba impresionado por la seguridad con que hablaba Holmes.
––Se trata de una persona bastante curiosa ––dijo Sherlock Holmes, dando media vuelta––. Espero poder presentarle a los dos dentro de poco. Tengo que hablar con usted, Watson.
Me condujo al final de la escalera.
––Este acontecimiento inesperado ––dijo–– nos ha hecho perder de vista el propsito de nuestra excursin.
––Ya he estado pensando en ello ––respond––. No est bien que la seorita Morstan permanezca en esta casa de desgracias.
––No. Tiene usted que acompaarla a su casa. Vive con la seora de Cecil Forrester, en Lower Camberwell. No queda muy lejos. Esperar aqu a que usted regrese. O est demasiado cansado?
––Nada de eso. No creo que pueda descansar mientras no sepa algo ms de este fantstico asunto. Yo ya he visto algo del lado malo de la vida, pero le doy mi palabra de que esta rpida serie de extraas sorpresas me ha alterado los nervios por completo. No obstante, ya que hemos llegado hasta aqu, me gustara acompaarle hasta ver resuelto el caso.
––Su presencia me resultar muy til ––respondi––. Investigaremos el caso por nuestra cuenta y dejaremos que ese infeliz de Jones presuma todo lo que quiera con los disparates que se le ocurren. Cuando haya dejado en su casa a la seorita Morstan, quiero que vaya al nmero 3 de Pinchin Lane, en Lambeth, cerca de la orilla del ro. En la tercera casa de la derecha vive un taxidermista, que se llama Sherman. En el escaparate ver una comadreja disecada atrapando a un conejo. Despierte al viejo Sherman, saldele de mi parte y dgale que necesito a Toby ahora mismo. Trigase a Toby en el
coche.
––Ser un perro, supongo.
––S, un perro mestizo, de mezcla rara, con un olfato absolutamente increble. Confo ms en la ayuda de Toby que en la de todo el cuerpo de polica de Londres.
––Pues yo se lo traer ––dije––. Ahora es la una. Si consigo un caballo de refresco, podr estar de vuelta antes de las tres.
––Y yo ver lo que puedo averiguar por medio de la seora Bernstone y del sirviente indio, que, segn me ha dicho el seor Thaddeus, duerme en la buhardilla de al lado. Luego estudiar los mtodos del gran Jones y aguantar sus no muy delicados sarcasmos. Wir sind gewohnt dass die Menschen verhhnen was sie nicht verstehen. Cunta razn tena Goethe!