2 A Mysterious Figure

Chapter 2 A Mysterious Figure The meeting with Mr. Hilton Cubitt left Sherlock Holmes in a thoughtful mood, and several times over the next few days I saw him take the slip of paper from his notebook and stare at the strange figures written on it. We didn't speak of it again, however, until one afternoon about two weeks later, when Cubitt returned. His face was lined with worry and there were heavy bags under his eyes. "This business is getting to me, Mr. Holmes," he said, sinking wearily into an armchair. "It's bad enough feeling surrounded by an unseen enemy; what's worse is knowing that it's gradually killing my wife. She's wearing away from the anxiety, wearing away before my eyes." "Has she said anything yet?"

"No. There have been times when the poor woman seemed about to speak, but couldn't quite bring herself to. I've tried to encourage her —told her she wouldn't find a truer or more supportive friend if she ever wanted to talk—but fear is keeping her silent." "Have you found out anything yourself?" asked Holmes. "Indeed I have. The morning after my visit to you, I found a fresh crop of dancing men, drawn in chalk on the door of the toolshed. Here is a

copy." He placed a piece of paper on the table. This is what they looked like... "Excellent!" said Holmes. "Please continue." "After taking the copy, I rubbed out the marks. Two mornings later, a fresh set appeared in the same place. Here is my copy..." Holmes rubbed his hands with delight. "Our sample material is rapidly growing," he said. "Three days after that, I found this piece of paper placed under a pebble on the sundial. The characters are, as you can see, exactly the same as the last one. "After that, I decided to try and catch the wretched scribbler in the act, so I took out my revolver and sat in my study by the window that overlooks the garden and the toolshed. At two in the morning my wife came in and begged me to come to bed, but I refused, telling her I had to see who was responsible for these messages.

"She said it was a stupid practical joke and I should ignore it. 'Come to bed, my darling,' she pleaded, 'and we can discuss it in the morning.' But as she spoke, her face suddenly paled and her hand tightened on my shoulder. Something was moving in the shadow of the toolshed. I saw a dark, creeping figure come around the corner to squat in front of the door. "Seizing my pistol, I started to run out of the room, but my wife threw her arms around me, holding me back. By the time I managed to shake her off and reach the toolshed, the trespasser was

gone. He had left a trace of his presence, though. There on the door was the same arrangement of dancing men that had already appeared twice before. "I searched the grounds but found no further sign of him. Yet he must have remained there all that time because the next morning I found some more figures drawn on the door, beneath the first set. Here's my copy. It's much shorter..."

Holmes seemed particularly excited by this latest set. "Was this simply added to the first group of dancing men, or did it appear to be entirely separate?" he asked. "It was on a different panel of the door." "Excellent! This is by far the most important discovery so far. It fills me with hope. Please continue with your story, Mr. Cubitt." "I have nothing more to say, Mr. Holmes, except that I was angry with my wife for having held me back when I might have caught the scoundrel. She said she feared I might come to harm. Yet for a moment I wondered if her real fear was that he might come to harm, for I had no doubt that she knew this man and understood what he meant by these strange symbols. But the look she gave me convinced me that I was being foolish and her only concern was for me."