3 An Angry Visitor

Chapter 3 An Angry Visitor "Well, what do you think, Watson?" asked Sherlock Holmes, leaning back in his chair. "It seems to me a very dark and sinister business," I said. "If the lady is correct that the floor and walls are solid, and the door, window, and chimney are all blocked, then her sister must surely have been alone when she was killed. It is all very strange." "There are many elements to this puzzle," said Holmes. "The low whistle, the metallic clang, the dying woman's peculiar words. I hope our visit to Stoke Moran will clear up some of these mysteries... But what's this now?" We were both startled by the sound of the door crashing open. A huge man stood there. His top hat actually grazed the top of the doorway and his shoulders very nearly spanned its width. His bloodshot eyes, set deep in his large, wrinkled

face, glared at us as a hunting crop swung slowly in his hand. "Which of you is Holmes?" he demanded. "That is my name, sir," answered my friend. "Now what is yours?" "I am Dr. Grimesby Roylott of Stoke Moran." "Please take a seat, Doctor," said Holmes. "I will do nothing of the kind," growled Roylott. "My stepdaughter has been here. I have traced her. Now what has she been saying to you?" "It is a little cold for the time of year..." said Holmes.

"What?!" "But I've heard the crocuses are doing well," continued my companion carelessly. "Ha! You are trying to put me off, but it won't work!" said our visitor, shaking his hunting crop at him. "I know you, you scoundrel! You are Holmes the meddler! Holmes the busybody!" Holmes began to chuckle. "Your conversation, dear sir, is most entertaining. Now, when you leave, do please close the door behind you, there's a good chap!" "I will go when I've had my say," said Grimesby Roylott. "Don't you dare meddle with my affairs. I am a dangerous man to cross. See

here." He stepped quickly to the fireplace, seized the poker, and bent it in his huge hands until it formed a U shape. "Now see that you keep yourself out of my sight!" he snarled before hurling the twisted poker into the fireplace and storming from the room. "What a delightful fellow!" laughed Holmes. "Well, well! I just hope that no harm comes to Miss Stoner for allowing this brute to trace her here. After that little episode, Watson, I think we deserve some breakfast, don't you? Then I have some business to attend to before we leave for Stoke Moran." It was nearly one o'clock by the time Holmes returned from his "business." He had a sheet of paper covered with notes and figures with him. "I've examined the will of Roylott's wife," he said, "and I calculate that each daughter could claim an annual income of two hundred and fifty pounds if they got married. That would put a severe dent in Roylott's wealth, so he had, and

has, every motive to prevent them from marrying. "The situation has become serious, Watson, especially as the old man is now aware of our interest in his affairs. So if you're ready, we shall call a cab and go straight to Waterloo. I suggest you take your revolver. That is the best argument I know against a man who can twist steel pokers into knots."

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