                                      1923
                                SHERLOCK HOLMES
                       THE ADVENTURE OF THE CREEPING MAN
                           by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

  Mr. Sherlock Holmes was always of opinion that I should publish
the singular facts connected with Professor Presbury, if only to
dispel once for all the ugly rumours which some twenty years ago
agitated the university and were echoed in the learned societies of
London. There were, however, certain obstacles in the way, and the
true history of this curious case remained entombed in the tin box
which contains so many records of my friend's adventures. Now we
have at last obtained permission to ventilate the facts which formed
one of the very last cases handled by Holmes before his retirement
from practice. Even now a certain reticence and discretion have to
be observed in laying the matter before the public.
  It was one Sunday evening early in September of the year 1903 that I
received one of Holmes's laconic messages:

  Come at once if convenient- if inconvenient come all the same.
                                                     S.H.

The relations between us in those latter days were peculiar. He was
a man of habits, narrow and concentrated habits, and I had become
one of them. As an institution I was like the violin, the shag
tobacco, the old black pipe, the index books, and others perhaps
less excusable. When it was a case of active work and a comrade was
needed upon whose nerve he could place some reliance, my role was
obvious. But apart from this I had uses. I was a whetstone for his
mind. I stimulated him. He liked to think aloud in my presence. His
remarks could hardly be said to be made to me- many of them would have
been as appropriately addressed to his bedstead- but none the less,
having formed the habit, it had become in some way helpful that I
should register and interject. If I irritated him by a certain
methodical slowness in my mentality, that irritation served only to
make his own flame-like intuitions and impressions flash up the more
vividly and swiftly. Such was my humble role in our alliance.
  When I arrived at Baker Street I found him huddled up in his
armchair with updrawn knees, his pipe in his mouth and his brow
furrowed with thought. It was clear that he was in the throes of
some vexatious problem. With a wave of his hand he indicated my old
armchair, but otherwise for half an hour he gave no sign that he was
aware of my presence. Then with a start he seemed to come from his
reverie, and with his usual whimsical smile he greeted me back to what
had once been my home.
  "You will excuse a certain abstraction of mind, my dear Watson,"
said he. "Some curious facts have been submitted to me within the last
twenty-four hours, and they in turn have given rise to some
speculations of a more general character. I have serious thoughts of
writing a small monograph upon the uses of dogs in the work of the
detective."
  "But surely, Holmes, this has been explored," said I.
"Bloodhounds- sleuthhounds-"
  No, no, Watson, that side of the matter is, of course, obvious.
But there is another which is far more subtle. You may recollect
that in the case which you, in your sensational way, coupled with
the Copper Beeches, I was able, by watching the mind of the child,
to form a deduction as to the criminal habits of the very smug and
respectable father."
  "Yes, I remember it well."
  "My line of thoughts about dogs is analogous. A dog reflects the
family life. Whoever saw a frisky dog in a gloomy family, or a sad dog
in a happy one? Snarling people have snarling dogs, dangerous people
have dangerous ones. And their passing moods may reflect the passing
moods of others."
  I shook my head. "Surely, Holmes, this is a little far-fetched,"
said I.
  He had refilled his pipe and resumed his seat, taking no notice of
my comment.
  "The practical application of what I have said is very close to
the problem which I am investigating. It is a tangled skein, you
understand, and I am looking for a loose end. One possible loose end
lies in the question: Why does Professor Presbury's wolfhound, Roy,
endeavour to bite him?"
  I sank back in my chair in some disappointment. Was it for so
trivial a question as this that I had been summoned from my work?
Holmes glanced across at me.
  "The same old Watson!" said he. "You never learn that the gravest
issues may depend upon the smallest things. But is it not on the
face of it strange that a staid, elderly philosopher- you've heard
of Presbury, of course, the famous Camford physiologist?- that such
a man, whose friend has been his devoted wolfhound, should now have
been twice attacked by his own dog? What do you make of it?"
  "The dog is ill."
  "Well, that has to be considered. But he attacks no one else, nor
does he apparently molest his master, save on very special
occasions. Curious, Watson- very curious. But young Mr. Bennett is
before his time if that is his ring. I had hoped to have a longer chat
with you before he came."
  There was a quick step on the stairs, a sharp tap at the door, and a
moment later the new client presented himself. He was a tall, handsome
youth about thirty, well dressed and elegant, but with something in
his bearing which suggested the shyness of the student rather than the
self-possession of the man of the world. He shook hands with Holmes,
and then looked with some surprise at me.
  "This matter is very delicate, Mr. Holmes," he said. "Consider the
relation in which I stand to Professor Presbury both privately and
publicly. I really can hardly justify myself if I speak before any
third person."
  "Have no fear, Mr. Bennett. Dr. Watson is the very soul of
discretion, and I can assure you that this is a matter in which I am
very likely to need an assistant."
  "As you like, Mr. Holmes. You will, I am sure, understand my
having some reserves in the matter."
  "You will appreciate it, Watson, when I tell you that this
gentleman, Mr. Trevor Bennett, is professional assistant to the
great scientist, lives under his roof, and is engaged to his only
daughter. Certainly we must agree that the professor has every claim
upon his loyalty and devotion. But it may best be shown by taking
the necessary steps to clear up this strange mystery."
  "I hope so, Mr. Holmes. That is my one object. Does Dr. Watson
know the situation?"
  "I have not had time to explain it."
  "Then perhaps I had better go over the ground again before
explaining some fresh developments."
  "I will do so myself," said Holmes, "in order to show that I have
the events in their due order. The professor, Watson, is a man of
European reputation. His life has been academic. There has never
been a breath of scandal. He is a widower with one daughter, Edith. He
is, I gather, a man of very virile and positive, one might almost
say combative, character. So the matter stood until a very few
months ago.
  "Then the current of his life was broken. He is sixty-one years of
age, but he became engaged to the daughter of Professor Morphy, his
colleague in the chair of comparative anatomy. It was not, as I
understand, the reasoned courting of an elderly man but rather the
passionate frenzy of youth, for no one could have shown himself a more
devoted lover. The lady, Alice Morphy, was a very perfect girl both in
mind and body, so that there was every excuse for the professor's
infatuation. None the less, it did not meet with full approval in
his own family."
  "We thought it rather excessive," said our visitor.
  "Exactly. Excessive and a little violent and unnatural. Professor
Presbury was rich, however, and there was no objection upon the part
of the father. The daughter, however, had other views, and there
were already several candidates for her hand, who, if they were less
eligible from a worldly point of view, were at least more of an age.
The girl seemed to like the professor in spite of his
eccentricities. It was only age which stood in the way.
  "About this time a little mystery suddenly clouded the normal
routine of the professor's life. He did what he had never done before.
He left home and gave no indication where he was going. He was away
a fortnight and returned looking rather travel-worn. He made no
allusion to where he had been, although he was usually the frankest of
men. It chanced, however, that our client here, Mr. Bennett,
received a letter from a fellow-student in Prague, who said that he
was glad to have seen Professor Presbury there, although he had not
been able to talk to him. Only in this way did his own household learn
where he had been.
  "Now comes the point. From that time onward a curious change came
over the professor. He became furtive and sly. Those around him had
always the feeling that he was not the man that they had known, but
that he was under some shadow which had darkened his higher qualities.
His intellect was not affected. His lectures were as brilliant as
ever. But always there was something new, something sinister and
unexpected. His daughter, who was devoted to him, tried again and
again to resume the old relations and to penetrate this mask which her
father seemed to have put on. You, sir, as I understand, did the same-
but all was in vain. And now, Mr. Bennett, tell in your own words
the incident of the letters."
  "You must understand, Dr. Watson, that the professor had no
secrets from me. If I were his son or his younger brother I could
not have more completely enjoyed his confidence. As his secretary I
handled every paper which came to him, and I opened and subdivided his
letters. Shortly after his return all this was changed. He told me
that certain letters might come to him from London which would be
marked by a cross under the stamp. These were to be set aside for
his own eyes only. I may say that several of these did pass through my
hands, that they had the E.C. mark, and were in an illiterate
handwriting. If he answered them at all the answers did not pass
through my hands nor into the letter-basket in which our
correspondence was collected."
  "And the box," said Holmes.
  "Ah, yes, the box. The professor brought back a little wooden box
from his travels. It was the one thing which suggested a Continental
tour, for it was one of those quaint carved things which one
associates with Germany. This he placed in this instrument cupboard.
One day, in looking for a canula, I took up the box. To my surprise he
was very angry, and reproved me in words which were quite savage for
my curiosity. It was the first time such a thing had happened, and I
was deeply hurt. I endeavoured to explain that it was a mere
accident that I had touched the box, But all the evening I was
conscious that he looked at me harshly and that the incident was
rankling in his mind." Mr. Bennett drew a little diary book from his
pocket. "That was on July 2d," said he.
  "You are certainly an admirable witness," said Holmes. "I may need
some of these dates which you have noted."
  "I learned method among other things from my great teacher. From the
time that I observed abnormality in his behaviour I felt that it was
my duty to study his case. Thus I have it here that it was on that
very day, July 2d, that Roy attacked the professor as he came from his
study into the hall. Again, on July 11th there was a scene of the same
sort, and then I have a note of yet another upon July 20th. After that
we bid to banish Roy to the stables. He was a dear, affectionate
animal- but I fear I weary you."
  Mr. Bennett spoke in a tone of reproach, for it was very clear
that Holmes was not listening. His face was rigid and his eyes gazed
abstractedly at the ceiling. With an effort he recovered himself.
  "Singular! Most singular!" he murmured. "These details were new to
me, Mr. Bennett. I think we have now fairly gone over the old
ground, have we not? But you spoke of some fresh developments."
  The pleasant, open face of our visitor clouded over, shadowed by
some grim remembrance. "What I speak of occurred the night before
last," said he. "I was lying awake about two in the morning, when I
was aware of a dull muffled sound coming from the passage. I opened my
door and peeped out. I should explain that the professor sleeps at the
end of the passage-"
  "The date being-?" asked Holmes.
  Our visitor was clearly annoyed it so irrelevant an interruption.
  "I have said, sir, that it was the night before last- that is,
September 4th."
  Holmes nodded and smiled.
  "Pray continue," said he.
  "He sleeps at the end of the passage and would have to pass my
door in order to reach the staircase. It was a really terrifying
experience, Mr. Holmes. I think that I am as strong-nerved as my
neighbours, but I was shaken by what I saw. The passage was dark
save that one window halfway along it threw a patch of light. I
could see that something was coming along the passage, something
dark and crouching. Then suddenly it emerged into the light, and I saw
that it was he. He was crawling, Mr. Holmes- crawling! He was not
quite on his hands and knees. I should rather say on his hands and
feet, with his face sunk between his hands. Yet he seemed to move with
case. I was so paralyzed by the sight that it was not until he had
reached my door that I was able to step forward and ask if I could
assist him. His answer was extraordinary. He sprang up, spat out
some atrocious word at me, and hurried on past me, and down the
staircase. I waited about for an hour, but he did not come back. It
must have been daylight before he regained his room."
  "Well, Watson, what make you of that?" asked Holmes with the air
of the pathologist who presents a rare specimen.
  "Lumbago, possibly. I have known a severe attack make a man walk
in just such a way, and nothing would be more trying to the temper."
  "Good, Watson! You always keep us flat-footed on the ground. But
we can hardly accept Lumbago, since he was able to stand erect in a
moment."
  "He was never better in health," said Bennett. "In fact, he is
stronger than I have known him for years. But there are the facts, Mr.
Holmes. It is not a case in which we can consult the police, and yet
we are utterly at our wit's end as to what to do, and we feel in
some strange way that we are drifting towards disaster. Edith- Miss
Presbury- feels as I do, that we cannot wait passively any longer."
  "It is certainly a very curious and suggestive case. What do you
think Watson?"
  "Speaking as a medical man," said I, "it appears to be a case for an
alienist. The old gentleman's cerebralo processes were disturbed by
the love affair. He made a journey abroad in the hope of breaking
himself of the passion. His letters and the box may be connected
with some other private transaction- a loan, perhaps, or share
certificates, which are in the box."
  "And the wolfhound no doubt disapproved of the financial bargain.
No, no, Watson, there is more in it than this. Now, I can only
suggest-"
  What Sherlock Holmes was about to suggest will never be known, for
at this moment the door opened and a young lady was shown into the
room. As she appeared Mr. Bennett sprang up with a cry and ran forward
with his hands out to meet those which she had herself outstretched.
  "Edith, dear! Nothing the matter, I hope?"
  "I felt I must follow you. Oh, Jack, I have been so dreadfully
frightened! It is awful to be there alone."
  "Mr. Holmes, this is the young lady I spoke of. This is my fiancee."
  "We were gradually coming to that conclusion, were we not,
Watson?" Holmes answered with a smile. "I take it, Miss Presbury, that
there is some fresh development in the case, and that you thought we
should know?"
  Our new visitor, a bright, handsome girl of a conventional English
type, smiled back at Holmes as she seated herself beside Mr. Bennett.
  "When I found Mr. Bennett had left his hotel I thought I should
probably find him here. Of course, he had told me that he would
consult you. But, oh, Mr. Holmes, can you do nothing for my poor
father?"
  "I have hopes, Miss Presbury, but the case is still obscure. Perhaps
what you have to say may throw some fresh light upon it."
  "It was last night, Mr. Holmes. He had been very strange all day.
I am sure that there are times when he has no recollection of what
he does. He lives as in a strange dream. Yesterday was such a day.
It was not my father with whom I lived. His outward shell was there,
but it was not really he."
  "Tell me what happened."
  "I was awakened in the night by the dog barking most furiously. Poor
Roy, he is chained now near the stable. I may say that I always
sleep with my door locked; for, as Jack- as Mr. Bennett- will tell
you, we all have a feeling of impending danger. My room is on the
second floor. It happened that the blind was up in my window, and
there was bright moonlight outside. As I lay with my eyes fixed upon
the square of light, listening to the frenzied barkings of the dog,
I was amazed to see my father's face looking in at me. Mr. Holmes, I
nearly died of surprise and horror. There it was pressed against the
window-pane, and one hand seemed to be raised as if to push up the
window. If that window had opened, I think I should have gone mad.
It was no delusion, Mr. Holmes. Don't deceive yourself by thinking so.
I dare say it was twenty seconds or so that I lay paralyzed and
watched the face. Then it vanished, but I could not- I could not
spring out of bed and look out after it. I lay cold and shivering till
morning. At breakfast he was sharp and fierce in manner, and made no
allusion to the adventure of the night. Neither did I, but I gave an
excuse for coming to town- and here I am."
  Holmes looked thoroughly surprised at Miss Presbury's narrative.
  "My dear young lady, you say that your room is on the second
floor. Is there a long ladder in the garden?"
  "No, Mr. Holmes, that is the amazing part of it. There is no
possible way of reaching the window- and yet he was there."
  "The date being September 5th," said Holmes. "That certainly
complicates matters."
  It was the young lady's turn to look surprised. "This is the
second time that you have alluded to the date, Mr. Holmes," said
Bennett. "Is it possible that it has any bearing upon the case?"
  "It is possible- very possible- and yet I have not my full
material at present."
  "Possibly you are thinking of the connection between insanity and
phases of the moon?"
  "No, I assure you. It was quite a different line of thought.
Possibly you can leave your notebook with me, and I will check the
dates. Now I think, Watson, that our line of action is perfectly
clear. This young lady has informed us- and I have the greatest
confidence in her intuition- that her father remembers little or
nothing which occurs upon certain dates. We will therefore call upon
him as if he had given us an appointment upon such a date. He will put
it down to his own lack of memory. Thus we will open our campaign by
having a good close view of him."
  "That is excellent," said Mr. Bennett. "I warn you, however, that
the professor is irascible and violent at times."
  Holmes smiled. "There are reasons why we should come at once- very
cogent reasons if my theories hold good. To-morrow, Mr. Bennett,
will certainly see us in Camford. There is, if I remember right, an
inn called the Chequers where the port used to be above mediocrity and
the linen was above reproached. I think, Watson, that our lot for
the next few days might be in less pleasant places."
  Monday, morning found us on our way to the famous university town-
an easy effort on the part of Holmes, who had no roots to pull up, but
one which involved frantic planning and hurrying on my part, as my
practice was by this time not inconsiderable. Holmes made no
allusion to the case until after we had deposited our suitcases at the
ancient hostel of which he had spoken.
  "I think, Watson, that we can catch the professor just before lunch.
He lectures at eleven and should have an interval at home."
  "What possible excuse have we for calling?"
  Holmes glanced at his notebook.
  "There was a period of excitement upon August 26th. We will assume
that he is a little hazy as to what he does at such times. If we
insist that we are there by appointment I think he will hardly venture
to contradict us. Have you the effrontery necessary to put it
through?"
  "We can but try."
  "Excellent, Watson! Compound of the Busy Bee and Excellsior. We
can but try- the motto of the firm. A friendly native will surely
guide us."
  Such a one on the back of a smart hansom swept us past a row of
ancient colleges and, finally turning into a tree-lined drive,
pulled up at the door of a charming house, girt round with lawns and
covered with purple wistaria. Professor Presbury was certainly
surrounded with every sign not only of comfort but of luxury. Even
as we pulled up, a grizzled head appeared at the front window, and
we were aware of a pair of keen eyes from under shaggy brows which
surveyed us through large horn glasses. A moment later we were
actually in his sanctum, and the mysterious scientist, whose
vagaries had brought us from London, was standing before us. There was
certainly no sign of eccentricity either in his manner or
appearance, for he was a portly, large-featured man, grave, tall,
and frock-coated, with the dignity of bearing which a lecturer
needs. His eyes were his most remarkable feature, keen, observant, and
clever to the verge of cunning.
  He looked at our cards. "Pray sit down, gentlemen. What can I do for
you?"
  Mr. Holmes smiled amiably.
  "It was the question which I was about to put to you, Professor."
  "To me, sir!"
  "Possibly there is some mistake. I heard through a second person
that Professor Presbury of Camford had need of my services."
  "Oh, indeed!" It seemed to me that there was a malicious sparkle
in the intense gray eyes. "You heard that, did you? May I ask the name
of your informant?"
  "I am sorry, Professor, but the matter was rather confidential. If I
have made a mistake there is no harm done. I can only express my
regret."
  "Not at all. I should wish to go further into this matter. It
interests me. Have you any scrap of writing, any letter or telegram,
to bear out your assertion?"
  "No, I have not."
  "I presume that you do not go so far as to assert that I summoned
you?"
  "I would rather answer no questions," said Holmes.
  "No, I dare say not," said the professor with asperity. "However,
that particular one can be answered very easily without your aid."
  He walked across the room to the bell. Our London friend, Mr.
Bennett, answered the call.
  "Come in, Mr. Bennett. These two gentlemen have come from London
under the impression that they have been summoned. You handle all my
correspondence. Have you a note of anything going to a person named
Holmes?"
  "No, sir," Bennett answered with a flush.
  "That is conclusive," said the professor, glaring angrily at my
companion. "Now, sir"- he leaned forward with his two hands upon the
table- "it seems to me that your position is a very questionable one."
  Holmes shrugged his shoulders.
  "I can only repeat that I am sorry that we have made a needless
intrusion."
  "Hardly enough, Mr. Holmes!" the old man cried in a high screaming
voice, with extraordinary malignancy upon his face. He got between
us and the door as he spoke, and he shook his two hands at us with
furious passion. "You can hardly get out of it so easily as that." His
face was convulsed, and he grinned and gibbered at us in his senseless
rage. I am convinced that we should have had to fight our way out of
the room if Mr. Bennett had not intervened.
  "My dear Professor," he cried, "consider your position! Consider the
scandal at the university! Mr. Holmes is a well-known man. You
cannot possibly treat him with such discourtesy."
  Sulkily our host- if I may call him so- cleared the path to the
door. We were glad to find ourselves outside the house and in the
quiet of the tree-lined drive. Holmes seemed greatly amused by the
episode.
  "Our learned friend's nerves are somewhat out of order," said he.
"Perhaps our intrusion was a little crude, and yet we have gained that
personal contact which I desired. But, dear me, Watson, he is surely
at our heels. The villain still pursues us."
  There were the sounds of running feet behind, but it was, to my
relief, not the formidable professor but his assistant who appeared
round the curve of the drive. He came panting up to us.
  "I am so sorry, Mr. Holmes. I wished to apologize."
  "My dear sir, there is no need. It is all in the way of professional
experience."
  "I have never seen him in a more dangerous mood. But he grows more
sinister. You can understand now why his daughter and I are alarmed.
And yet his mind is perfectly clear."
  "Too clear!" said Holmes. "That was my miscalculation. It is evident
that his memory is much more reliable than I had thought. By the
way, can we, before we go, see the window of Miss Presbury's room?"
  Mr. Bennett pushed his way through some shrubs, and we had a view of
the side of the house.
  "It is there. The second on the left."
  "Dear me, it seems hardly accessible. And yet you will observe
that there is a creeper bellow and a water-pipe above which give
some foothold."
  "I could not climb it myself," said Mr. Bennett.
  "Very likely. It would certainly be a dangerous exploit for any
normal man."
  "There was one other thing I wish to tell you, Mr. Holmes. I have
the address of the man in London to whom the professor writes. He
seems to have written this morning, and I got it from his
blotting-paper. It is an ignoble position for a trusted secretary, but
what else can I do?"
  Holmes glanced at the paper and put it into his pocket.
  "Dorak- a curious name. Slavonic, I imagine. Well, it is an
important link in the chain. We return to London, this afternoon,
Mr. Bennett. I see no good purpose to be served by our remaining. We
cannot arrest the professor because he has done no crime, nor can we
place him under constraint, for he cannot be proved to be mad. No
action is is yet possible."
  "Then what on earth are we to do?"
  "A little patience, Mr. Bennett. Things will soon develop. Unless
I am mistaken, next Tuesday may mark a crisis. Certainly we shall be
in Camford on that day. meanwhile, the general position is
undeniably unpleasant, and if Miss Presbury can prolong her visit-"
  That is easy."
  "Then let her stay till we can assure her that all danger is past.
Meanwhile, let him have his way and do not cross him. So long as he is
in a good humour all is well."
  "There he is!" said Bennett in a startled whisper. Looking between
the branches we saw the tall, great figure emerge from the hall door
and look around him. He stood leaning forward, his hands swinging
straight before him, his head turning from side to side. The secretary
with a last wave slipped off among the trees, and we saw him presently
rejoin his employer, the two entering the house together in what
seemed to be animated and even excited conversation.
  "I expect the old gentleman has been putting two and two
together," said Holmes as we walked hotelward. "He struck me as having
a particularly clear and logical brain from the little I saw of him.
Explosive, no doubt, but then from his point of view he has
something to explode about if detectives are put on his track and he
suspects his own household of doing it. I rather fancy that friend
Bennett is in for an uncomfortable time."
  Holmes stopped at a post-office and sent off a telegram on our
way. The answer reached us in the evening, and he tossed it across
to me.

  Have visited the Commercial Road and seen Dorak. Suave person,
Bohemian, elderly. Keeps large general store.
                                                          MERCER.

  "Mercer is since your time," said Holmes. "He is my general
utility man who looks up routine business. It was important to know
something of the man with whom our professor was so secretly
corresponding. His nationality connects up with the Prague visit."
  "Thank goodness that something connects with something," said I. "At
present we seem to be faced by a long series of inexplicable incidents
with no bearing upon each other. For example, what possible connection
can there be between an angry wolfhound and a visit to Bohemia, or
either of them with a man crawling down a passage at night? As to your
dates, that is the biggest mystification of all."
  Holmes smiled and rubbed his hands, We were, I may say, seated in
the old sitting-room of the ancient hotel, with a bottle of the famous
vintage of which Holmes had spoken on the table between us.
  "Well, now, let us take the dates first," said he, his finger-tips
together and his manner as if he were addressing a class. "This
excellent young man's diary shows that there was trouble upon July 2d,
and from then onward it seems to have been at nine-day intervals,
with, so far as I remember, only one exception. Thus the last outbreak
upon Friday was on September 3rd, which also falls into the series, as
did August 26th, which preceded it. The thing is beyond coincidence."
  I was forced to agree.
  "Let us, then, form the provisional theory that every nine days
the professor takes some strong drug which has a passing but highly
poisonous effect. His naturally violent nature is intensified by it.
He learned to take this drug while he was in Prague, and is now
supplied with it by a Bohemian intermediary in London. This all
hangs together, Watson!"
  "But the dog, the face at the window, the creeping man in the
passage?"
  "Well, well, we have made a beginning. I should not expect any fresh
developments until next Tuesday. In the meantime we can only keep in
touch with friend Bennett and enjoy, the amnenities of this charming
town."
  In the morning Mr. Bennett slipped round to bring us the latest
report. As Holmes had imagined, times had not been easy with him.
Without exactly accusing him of being responsible for our presence,
the professor had been very rough and rude in his speech, and
evidently felt some strong grievance. This morning he was quite
himself again, However, and had delivered his usual brilliant
lecture to a crowded class. "Apart from his queer fits," said Bennett,
"he has actually more energy and vitality, than I can ever remember,
nor was his brain ever clearer. But it's not he- it's never the man
whom we have known."
  "I don't think you have anything to fear now for a week at least,"
Holmes answered. "I am a busy man, and Dr. Watson has his patients
to attend to. Let us agree that we meet here at this hour next
Tuesday, and I shall be surprised if before we leave you again we
are not able to explain, even if we cannot perhaps put an end to, your
troubles. Meanwhile, keep us posted in what occurs."
  I saw nothing of my friend for the next few days, but on the
following Monday evening I had a short note asking me to meet him next
day at the train. From what he told me as we travelled up to Camford
all was well, the peace of the professor's house had been unruffled,
and his own conduct perfectly normal. This also was the report which
was given us by Mr. Bennett himself when he called upon us that
evening at our old quarters in the Chequers. "He heard from his London
correspondent to-day. There was a letter and there was a small packet,
each with the cross under the stamp which warned me not to touch them.
There has been nothing else."
  That may prove quite enough," said Holmes grimly. "Now, Mr. Bennett,
we shall, I think, come to some conclusion to-night. If my
deductions are correct we should have an opportunity of bringing
matters to a head. In order to do so it is necessary to hold the
professor under observation. I would suggest, therefore, that you
remain awake and on the lookout. Should you hear him pass your door,
do not interrupt him, but follow him as discreetly as you can. Dr.
Watson and I will not be far off. By the way, where is the key of that
little box of which you spoke?"
  "Upon his watch-chain."
  "I fancy our researches must lie in that direction. At the worst the
lock should not be very formidable. Have you any other able-bodied man
on the premises?"
  "There is the coachman, Macphail."
  "Where does he sleep?"
  "Over the stables."
  "We might possibly want him. Well, we can do no more until we see
how things develop. Good-bye- but I expect that we shall see you
before morning."
  It was nearly midnight before we took our station among some
bushes immediately opposite the hall door of the professor. It was a
fine night, but chilly, and we were glad of our warm overcoats.
There was a breeze, and clouds were scudding across the sky, obscuring
from time to time the half-moon. It would have been a dismal vigil
were it not for the expectation and excitement which carried us along,
and the assurance of my comrade that we had probably reached the end
of the strange sequence of events which had engaged our attention.
  "If the circle of nine days holds good then we shall have the
professor at his worst to-night," said Holmes. "The fact that these
strange symptoms began after his visit to Prague, that he is in secret
correspondence with a Bohemian dealer in London, who presumably
represents someone in Prague, and that he received a packet from him
this very day, all point in one direction. What he takes and why he
takes it are still beyond our ken, but that it emanates in some way
from Prague is clear enough. He takes it under definite directions
which regulate this ninth-day system, which was the first point
which attracted my attention. But his symptoms are most remarkable.
Did you observe his knuckles?"
  I had to confess that I did not.
  "Thick and horny in a way which is quite new in my experience.
Always look at the hands first, Watson. Then cuffs, trouser-knees, and
boots. Very curious knuckles which can only be explained by the mode
of progression observed by-" Holmes paused and suddenly clapped his
hand to his forehead. "Oh, Watson, Watson, what a fool I have been! It
seems incredible, and yet it must be true. All points in one
direction. How could I miss seeing the connection of ideas? Those
knuckles- how could I have passed those knuckles? And the dog! And the
ivy! It's surely time that I disappeared into that little farm of my
dreams. Look out, Watson! Here he is! We shall have the chance of
seeing for ourselves."
  The hall door had slowly opened, and against the lamplit
background we saw the tall figure of Professor Presbury. He was clad
in his dressing-gown. As he stood outlined in the doorway he was great
but leaning forward with dangling arms, as when we saw him last.
  Now he stepped forward into the drive, and an extraordinary change
came over him. He sank down into a crouching position and moved
along upon his hands and feet, skipping every now and then as if he
were overflowing with energy and vitality. He moved along the face
of the house and then round the corner. As he disappeared Bennett
slipped through the hall door and softly followed him.
  "Come, Watson, come!" cried Holmes, and we stole as softly as we
could through the bushes until we had gained a spot whence we could
see the other side of the house, which was bathed in the light of
the half-moon. The professor was clearly visible crouching at the foot
of the ivy-covered wall. As we watched him he suddenly began with
incredible agility to ascend it. From branch to branch he sprang, sure
of foot and firm of grasp, climbing apparently in mere joy at his
own powers, with no definite object in view. With his dressing-gown
flapping on each side of him, he looked like some huge bat glued
against the side of his own house, a great square dark patch upon
the moonlit wall. Presently he tired of this amusement, and,
dropping from branch to branch, he squatted down into the old attitude
and moved towards the stables, creeping along in the same strange
way as before. The wolfhound was out now, barking furiously, and
more excited than ever when it actually caught sight of its master. It
was straining on its chain and quivering with eagerness and rage.
The professor squatted down very deliberately just out of reach of the
bound and began to provoke it in every possible way. He took
handfuls of pebbles from the drive and threw them in the dog's face,
prodded him with a stick which he had picked up, flicked his hands
about only a few inches from the gaping mouth, and endeavoured in
every way to increase the animal's fury, which was already beyond
all control. In all our adventures I do not know that I have ever seen
a more strange sight than this impassive and still dignified figure
crouching frog-like upon the ground and goading to a wilder exhibition
of passion the maddened hound, which ramped and raged in front of him,
by all manner of ingenious and calculated cruelty.
  And then in a moment it happened! It was not the chain that broke,
but it was the collar that slipped, for it had been made for a
thick-necked Newfoundland. We heard the rattle of falling metal, and
the next instant dog and man were rolling on the ground together,
the one roaring in rage, the other screaming in a strange shrill
falsetto of terror. It was a very narrow thing for the professor's
life. The savage creature had him fairly by the throat, its fangs
had bitten deep, and he was senseless before we could reach them and
drag the two apart. It might have been a dangerous task for us, but
Bennett's voice and presence brought the great wolfhound instantly
to reason. The uproar had brought the sleepy and astonished coachman
from his room above the stables. "I'm not surprised," said he, shaking
his bead. "I've seen him at it before. I knew the dog would get him
sooner or later."
  The hound was secured, and together we carried the professor up to
his room, where Bennett, who had a medical degree, helped me to
dress his torn throat. The sharp teeth had passed dangerously near the
carotid artery, and the haemorrhage was serious. In half an hour the
danger was past, I had given the patient an injection of morphia,
and he had sunk into deep sleep. Then, and only then, were we able
to look at each other and to take stock of the situation.
  "I think a first-class surgeon should see him," said I.
  "For God's sake, no!" cried Bennett. "At present the scandal is
confined to our own household. It is safe with us. If it gets beyond
these walls it will never stop. Consider his position at the
university, his European reputation, the feelings of his daughter."
  "Quite so," said Holmes. "I think it may be quite possible to keep
the matter to ourselves, and also to prevent its recurrence now that
we have a free hand. The key from the watch-chain, Mr. Bennett.
Macphail will guard the patient and let us know if there is any
change. Let us see what we can find in the professor's mysterious
box."
  There was not much, but there was enough- an empty phial, another
nearly full, a hypodermic syringe, several letters in a crabbed,
foreign hand. The marks on the envelopes showed that they were those
which had disturbed the routine of the secretary, and each was dated
from the Commercial Road and signed "A. Dorak." They were mere
invoices to say that a fresh bottle was being sent to Professor
Presbury, or receipt to acknowledge money. There was one other
envelope, however, in a more educated band and bearing the Austrian
stamp with the postmark of Prague. "Here we have our material!"
cried Holmes as he tore out the enclosure.


  HONOURED COLLEAGUE [it ran]:
  Since your esteemed visit I have thought much of your case, and
though in your circumstances there are some special reasons for the
treatment, I would none the less enjoin caution, as my results have
shown that it is not without danger of a kind.
  It is possible that the serum of anthropoid would have been
better. I have, as I explained to you, used black-faced langur because
a specimen was accessible. Langur is, of course, a crawler and
climber, while anthropoid walk erect and is in all ways nearer.
  I beg you to take every possible precaution that there be no
premature revelation of the process. I have one other client in
England, and Dorak is my agent for both.
  Weekly reports will oblige.

                                       Yours with high esteem,
                                                     H. LOWENSTEIN.

  Lowenstein! The name brought back to me the memory of some snippet
from a newspaper which, spoke of an obscure scientist who was striving
in some unknown way for the secret of rejuvenescence and the elixir of
life. Lowenstein of Prague! Lowenstein with the wondrous
strength-giving serum, tabooed by the profession because he refused to
reveal its source. In a few words I said what I remembered. Bennett
had taken a manual of zoology from the shelves. "'Langur,'" he read,
"'the great black-faced monkey of the Himalayan slopes, biggest and
most human of climbing monkeys.' Many details are added. Well,
thanks to you, Mr. Holmes, it is very clear that we have traced the
evil to its source."
  "The real source," said Holmes, "lies, of course, in that untimely
love affair which gave our impetuous professor the idea that he
could only gain his wish by turning himself into a younger man. When
one tries to rise above nature one is liable to fall below it. The
highest type of man may revert to the animal if he leaves tile
straight road of destiny." He sat musing for a little with the phial
in his hand, looking at the clear liquid within. "When I have
written to this man and told him that I hold him criminally
responsible for the poisons which he circulates, we will have no
more trouble. But it may recur. Others may find a better way. There is
danger there- a very real danger to humanity. Consider, Watson, that
the material, the sensual, the worldly would all prolong their
worthless lives. The spiritual would not avoid the call to something
higher. It would be the survival of the least fit. What sort of
cesspool may not our poor world become?" Suddenly the dreamer
disappeared, and Holmes, the man of action, sprang from his chair.
"I think there is nothing more to be said, Mr. Bennett. The various
incidents will how fit themselves easily into the general scheme.
The dog, of course, was aware of the change far more quickly than you.
His smell would insure that. It was the monkey, not the professor,
whom Roy attacked, just as it was the monkey who teased Roy.
Climbing was a joy to the creature, and it was a mere chance, I take
it, that the pastime brought him to the young lady's window. There
is an early train to town, Watson, but I think we shall just have time
for a cup of tea at the Chequers before we catch it."


                               -THE END-
