emarkable individual.
And yet, in that bell-rope, he has given us a clue which should not have
left us a doubt."

"Where was the clue?"

"Well, if you were to pull down a bell-rope, Watson, where would you
expect it to break? Surely at the spot where it is attached to the wire.
Why should it break three inches from the top, as this one has done?"

"Because it is frayed there?"

"Exactly. This end, which we can examine, is frayed. He was cunning
enough to do that with his knife. But the other end is not frayed. You
could not observe that from here, but if you were on the mantelpiece you
would see that it is cut clean off without any mark of fraying whatever.
You can reconstruct what occurred. The man needed the rope. He would not
tear it down for fear of giving the alarm by ringing the bell. What did
he do? He sprang up on the mantelpiece, could not quite reach it, put
his knee on the bracket--you will see the impression in the dust--and so
got his knife to bear upon the cord. I could not reach the place by at
least three inches--from which I infer that he is at least three inches
a bigger man than I. Look at that mark upon the seat of the oaken chair!
What is it?"

"Blood."

"Undoubtedly it is blood. This alone puts the lady's story out of court.
If she were seated on the chair when the crime was done, how comes
that mark? No, no, she was placed in the chair AFTER the death of her
husband. I'll wager that the black dress shows a corresponding mark to
this. We have not yet met our Waterloo, Watson, but this is our Marengo,
for it begins in defeat and ends in victory. I should like now to have
a few words with the nurse, Theresa. We must be wary for a while, if we
are to get the information which we want."

She was an interesting person, this stern Australian nurse--taciturn,
suspicious, ungracious, it took some time before Holmes's pleasant
manner and frank acceptance of all that she said thawed her into a
corresponding amiability. She did not attempt to conceal her hatred for
her late employer.

"Yes, sir, it is true that he threw the decanter at me. I heard him call
my mistress a name, and I told him that he would not dare to speak so if
her brother had been there. Then it was that he threw it at me. He
might have thrown a dozen if he had but left my bonny bird alone. He was
forever ill-treating her, and she too proud to complain. She will not
even tell me all that he has done to her. She never told me of tho