工程师的拇指 The Adventure of the Engineer's Thumb （六）

"How long I remained unconscious I cannot tell. It must have been

a very long time, for the moon had sunk, and a bright morning was

breaking when I came to myself. My clothes were all sodden with

dew, and my coat-sleeve was drenched with blood from my wounded

thumb. The smarting of it recalled in an instant all the

particulars of my night's adventure, and I sprang to my feet with

the feeling that I might hardly yet be safe from my pursuers. But

to my astonishment, when I came to look round me, neither house

nor garden were to be seen. I had been lying in an angle of the

hedge close by the highroad, and just a little lower down was a

long building, which proved, upon my approaching it, to be the

very station at which I had arrived upon the previous night. Were

it not for the ugly wound upon my hand, all that had passed

during those dreadful hours might have been an evil dream.

"Half dazed, I went into the station and asked about the morning

train. There would be one to Reading in less than an hour. The

same porter was on duty, I found, as had been there when I

arrived. I inquired of him whether he had ever heard of Colonel

Lysander Stark. The name was strange to him. Had he observed a

carriage the night before waiting for me? No, he had not. Was

there a police-station anywhere near? There was one about three

miles off.

"It was too far for me to go, weak and ill as I was. I determined

to wait until I got back to town before telling my story to the

police. It was a little past six when I arrived, so I went first

to have my wound dressed, and then the doctor was kind enough to

bring me along here. I put the case into your hands and shall do

exactly what you advise."

We both sat in silence for some little time after listening to

this extraordinary narrative. Then Sherlock Holmes pulled down

from the shelf one of the ponderous commonplace books in which he

placed his cuttings.

"Here is an advertisement which will interest you," said he. "It

appeared in all the papers about a year ago. Listen to this:

'Lost, on the 9th inst., Mr. Jeremiah Hayling, aged

twenty-six, a hydraulic engineer. Left his lodgings at ten

o'clock at night, and has not been heard of since. Was

dressed in,' etc., etc. Ha! That represents the last time that

the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I fancy."

"Good heavens!" cried my patient. "Then that explains what the

girl said."

"Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and

desperate man, who was absolutely determined that nothing should

stand in the way of his little game, like those out-and-out

pirates who will leave no survivor from a captured ship. Well,

every moment now is precious, so if you feel equal to it we shall

go down to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for

Eyford."