Short Stories
The unfortunate young man staggered back, and cast a look
full of horror and reproach at Bannister.
"No, no, Mr. Gilchrist, sir, I never said a word -- never one
word!" cried the servant.
"No, but you have now," said Holmes. "Now, sir, you must
see that after Bannister's words your position is hopeless, and
that your only chance lies in a frank confession."
For a moment Gilchrist, with upraised hand, tried to control
his writhing features. The next he had thrown himself on his
knees beside the table, and burying his face in his hands, he had
burst into a storm of passionate sobbing.
"Come, come," said Holmes, kindly, "it is human to err, and
at least no one can accuse you of being a callous criminal. Per-
haps it would be easier for you if I were to tell Mr. Soames what
occurred, and you can check me where I am wrong. Shall I do
so? Well, well, don't trouble to answer. Listen, and see that I do
you no injustice.
"From the moment, Mr. Soames, that you said to me that no
one, not even Bannister, could have told that the papers were in
your room, the case began to take a definite shape in my mind.
The printer one could, of course, dismiss. He could examine the
papers in his own office. The Indian I also thought nothing of. If
the proofs were in a roll, he could not possibly know what they
were. On the other hand, it seemed an unthinkable coincidence
that a man should dare to enter the room, and that by chance on
that very day the papers were on the table. I dismissed that. The
man who entered knew that the papers were there. How did he
know?
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