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"You are too many for me when you begin to get on your theories, Mr. Holmes," said he. "How does this bear on the case?" "Well, it corroborates the young man's story to the extent that the will was drawn up by Jonas Oldacre in his journey yesterday. It is curious is it not? that a man should draw up so important a document in so haphazard a fashion.
Jonas Oldacre had received a late visitor in his bedroom upon that night, and the stick found has been identified as the property of this person, who is a young London solicitor named John Hector McFarlane, junior partner of Graham and McFarlane, of 426, Gresham Buildings, E.C. The police believe that they have evidence in their possession which supplies a very convincing motive for the crime, and altogether it cannot be doubted that sensational developments will follow.
It was not much of a situation, but he could not get another without a reference, and Oldacre might refuse him one. Without money for his classes, and without a situation what was to become of him? It was absolute ruin. But perhaps he could escape exposure after all.
"I am afraid I cannot spare you, Mr. Montgomery." This was a facer. If he could not get leave he would go without it. "You will remember, Dr. Oldacre, that when I came to you it was understood that I should have a clear day every month. I have never claimed one. But now there are reasons why I wish to have a holiday upon Saturday." Dr. Oldacre gave in with a very bad grace.
The older man is showing documents which are of evident value. A passing tramp sees them through the window, the blind of which is only half down. Exit the solicitor. Enter the tramp! He seizes a stick, which he observes there, kills Oldacre, and departs after burning the body." "Why should the tramp burn the body?" "For the matter of that, why should McFarlane?" "To hide some evidence."
They were sitting alone at lunch, and the assistant thought that it would be a good opportunity of asking leave for the day of the fight. "I should be glad if you could let me have leave for Saturday, Dr. Oldacre." "It is very inconvenient upon so busy a day." "I should do a double day's work on Friday so as to leave everything in order. I should hope to be back in the evening."
All my instincts are one way, and all the facts are the other, and I much fear that British juries have not yet attained that pitch of intelligence when they will give the preference to my theories over Lestrade's facts." "Did you go to Blackheath?" "Yes, Watson, I went there, and I found very quickly that the late lamented Oldacre was a pretty considerable blackguard.
Jonas Oldacre is a well known resident of that suburb, where he has carried on his business as a builder for many years. Mr. Oldacre is a bachelor, fifty-two years of age, and lives in Deep Dene House, at the Sydenham end of the road of that name. He has had the reputation of being a man of eccentric habits, secretive and retiring.
It would be done so quickly and so naturally, that I daresay the young man himself has no recollection of it. Very likely it just so happened, and Oldacre had himself no notion of the use he would put it to. Brooding over the case in that den of his, it suddenly struck him what absolutely damning evidence he could make against McFarlane by using that thumb-mark.
McFarlane had left his hat, and to the best of her had been awakened by the alarm of fire. Her poor, dear master had certainly been murdered. Had he any enemies? Well, every man had enemies, but Mr. Oldacre kept himself very much to himself, and only met people in the way of business. She had seen the buttons, and was sure that they belonged to the clothes which he had worn last night.
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