The Adventure of the Three Students: Part Two

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“Welcome to Sherlock Holmes' short stories. I'm Hugh Bonneville and from the Noiser podcast network.”

This is the adventure of the three students part two. Last time, Holmes and Watson were called to investigate a case of cheating at one of the nation's top universities. Professor Somes was appalled when he learned that the next day's Greek examination had been copied in his rooms while he was having tea with a colleague. Three young men immediately fell under suspicion, all of them live on the same staircase as their tutor. There's young Gilchrist, an impoverished athlete who's father lost a fortune on the horse races.

An Indian man called Dalat Ras, works hard, but he's no Greek scholar. And Miles McLaren, a bright but disillude young fellow who has barely done any work all term, and is expected to fare poorly in the exam.

“But which of the three has already had a look at the exam paper?”

As Holmes began his investigation, he uncovered a number of clues, pencil shabings, a clump of dirt, and the snapped tip of a lead pencil. He's already interrogated Somes' servant, Vanister, the man who discovered the crime. Now it's time to question the three suspects. "No names please," said Holmes, as we knocked at Gilchrist's door. A tall, flax and hered slim young fellow opened it and made us welcome when he understood our errand.

There were some really curious pieces of medieval domestic architecture within. Holmes was so charmed with one of them that he insisted on drawing it on his notebook.

The rookies pencil had to borrow one from our host, and finally borrowed a knife to sharpen his own.

The same curious accident happened to him in the room of Dalat Ras, a silent little hook-nosed fellow who I'd us as scans and was obviously glad when Holmes's architectural studies had come to an end. I could not see that in either case Holmes had come upon the clue for which he was searching. Only at the third did our visit prove abortive. The outer door would not open to our knock, and nothing more substantial than a torrent of bad language came from behind it. I don't care who you are, you can go to blazes, roar the angry voice.

Samar is the exam, and I won't be drawn by anyone. A rude fellow said our guide flushing with anger as we withdrew down the stair. Of course, he did not realize that it was I who was knocking, but nonetheless his contact was very uncurtious, and indeed under the circumstances rather suspicious. Holmes's response was a curious one. "Can you tell me his exact height?" he asked. "Really? Mr. Holmes, I cannot undertake to say. He is taller than Ras, and not so tall as Gilchrist, I suppose. Five foot six would be about it. "That is very important," said Holmes. "And now, Mr. Holmes, I wish you good night."

I must take some definite action tonight. A cannot allow the examination to be held if one of the papers has been tampered with. The situation must be faced.

“You must leave it as it is. I shall drop round early tomorrow morning and chat the matter over. It is possible that I may be in a position then to indicate some course of action. Meanwhile, you change nothing. Nothing at all.”

They are very good, Mr. Holmes. "You can be perfectly easy in your mind. You shall certainly find some way out of your difficulties. I will take the black clay with me also the pencil cuttings. Goodbye." When we were out in the darkness of the quadrangle, we again looked up at the windows. Doulet rats still paced his room. The others were invisible.

"Well, Watson, what do you think of it?" Holmes asked as we came out into the main street.

"Quite the little parlor game, sort of three cards trick, is it not? There are your three men. It must be one of them. You take your choice. Which is yours?"

“The foulmouthed fellow at the top, he is the one with the worst record and yet that rouse was a sly fellow also. Why should he be pacing his room all the time?”

There is nothing in that many men do it when they are trying to learn anything by heart. He looked at us in a queer way. So would you if a flock of strangers came in on you when you were preparing for an examination next day and every moment was a value?

I see nothing in that. Pencils, too, and knives all was satisfactory, but that fellow does puzzle me. Who? Why, panister, the servant, what's his game in the matter?

He impressed me as being a perfectly honest man. So he did me. That's the puzzle in part. Why should he perfectly honest man? Well, well, here's a large stationers. We shall begin our researches here. There were only four stations of any consequence in the town, and at each home's produced his pencil chips and bid high for a duplicate. All were agreed that one could be ordered, but that it was not a usual size of pencil, and that it was seldom kept in stock. My friend did not appear to be depressed by his failure, but shrug to shoulders in half humorous resignation.

No good, my dear Watson, this, the best and only a final clue, has run to nothing. But indeed, I have little doubt that we can build up a sufficient case without it. By Joe, I dear fellow, it is nearly nine, and the landlady battled of green peas at 730. What with your eternal tobacco Watson and your irregularity at meals, I expect that you will get noticed to quit, and that I shall share your downfall. Not however, before we have solved the problem of the nervous tutor, the careless servant, and the three enterprising students.

Holmes made no further illusion to the matter that day, though he sat lost in thought for a long time after our belated dinner. At eight in the morning, he came into my room just as I finished my toilet. "Well, Watson," said he, "it is time we went down to St. Luke's, can you do without breakfast?" certainly.

“Holmes will be in a dreadful fidget until we are able to tell him something positive. Have you anything positive to tell him? I think so. You have formed a conclusion? Yes, my dear Watson, I have solved the mystery.”

But what fresh evidence could you have got? Ah-ha! It is not for nothing that I have turned myself out of bed at the untimely hour of six. I have put in two hours hard work and covered at least five miles with something to show for it. Look at that. He held out his hand. On the palm were three little pyramids of black do-ey clay. Why, Holmes, you had only two yesterday? And one more this morning, it is a fair argument that wherever number three came from is also the source of numbers one and two, air Watson?

Well, come along and put friend's somes out of his pain. The unfortunate tutor was certainly in a state of pitiable agitation when we found him in his chambers. In a few hours the examination would commence and he was still in the dilemma between making the facts public and allowing the culprit to compete for the valuable scholarship.

Thank heaven that you have come. I fear that you had given it up in despair. What am I to do? Shall the examination proceed?

“Yes, let it proceed by all means, but this rascal, he shall not compete. You know him? I think so. If this matter is not to become public, we must give ourselves certain powers and resolve ourselves into a small private court marshal.”

You there, if you please, Serbs, Watson, you here. I'll take the armchair in the middle. I think that we are now sufficiently imposing to strike terror into a guilty breast. Kindy ring the bell. Bannister entered and shrunk back in evidence surprise and fear at our judicial appearance. You will kindly close the door, said Holmes. Now, Bannister, will you please tell us the truth about yesterday's incident? The man turned white to the roots of his hair. I have told you everything, sir. Nothing to add. Nothing at all, sir.

“Well then, I must make some suggestions to you. When you sat down on that chair yesterday, did you do so in order to conceal some object, which would have shown who had been in the room?”

Bannister's face was ghastly. Oh, sir, certainly not. It is only, as a gesture, said Holmes, swarvely. I frankly admit that I am unable to prove it, but it seems probable enough. Since the moment that Mr. Serbs is back was turned, you released the man who was hiding in that bedroom. Bannister licked his dry lips. Oh, there was no man, sir. Ah, that's a pity, Bannister. Up to now you may have spoken the truth. But now, I know that you have lied. The man's face set in silent finds. There was no man, sir.

Come, come, Bannister. No, sir. There was no one. In that case, you can give us no further information. Would you please remain in the room, stand over there near the bedroom door? Now, Serbs, I am going to ask you to have the great kindness to go up to the room of young guild Christ, and to ask him to step down into yours. Isn't later the tutor returned, bringing with him the student. He was a fine figure of a man tall, lie, and agile, with a springy step and a pleasant open face.

His troubled blue eyes glanced at each of us, and finally rested with an expression of blank dismay upon Bannister in the father corner.

Just close the door, sit home. Now, Mr. Guild Christ, we are all quite alone here, and no one need ever know one word of what passes between us. We can be perfectly frank with each other. We want to know, Mr. Guild Christ, how you, an honorable man, ever came to commit such an action as that of yesterday. The unfortunate young man staggered back, and cast a look full of horror and riproach at Bannister.

No, Mr. Guild Christ, sir, I never said a word, never one word, cried the servant.

“No, but you have now, sit home. 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, Guild Christ, 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. Perhaps it would be easier for you if I were to tell Mr. Holmes what occurred, and you can check me where I am wrong shall I do so?" Well, well, and trouble to answer, listen, and see that I do you know injustice.

But what I want to do is not to be a student, Mr. Whitehack, who is the only person who is interested in the world. - You can say that you can say that you are a thief. - You are a thief, right? But you do not understand. - Exactly, a thief is a thief.

"Now it's costin' us out for being."

"From the moment Mr. Sones, that you said to me that no one, not even banister, 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. "Daladras, I also thought nothing of, if the proofs were in a role, 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.

“The man who entered, knew that the papers were there. How did he know?”

"When I approached your room, I examined the window. You amused me by supposing that I was contemplating the possibility of someone having in broad daylight, under the eyes of all these opposite rooms, forced himself through it." Such an idea was absurd. I was measuring how tall a man would need to be in order to see as he passed what papers were on the central table. I am six feet high, and I could do it with an effort. No one less than that would have a chance. Already, you see, I had reason to think that if one of your three students was a man of unusual height, he was the most worth watching of the three.

I entered, and I took you into my confidence as to the suggestions of the side table. Of the centre table I could make nothing until in your description of Gilchrist, you mentioned that he was a long distance jumper. Then the whole thing came to me in an instant, and I only needed certain corroborative proofs which I speedily obtained. What happened was this? This young fellow had employed his afternoon at the athletic grounds, where he had been practicing the jump. He returned, carrying his jumping shoes, which I provided as you are aware with several sharp spikes.

As he passed your window, he saw by means of his great height, these proofs upon your table, and conjectured what they were.

“No harm would have been done, had it not been that as he passed your door, he perceived the key, which had been left by the carelessness of your servant.”

A sudden impulse came over him to enter, and see if they were indeed the proofs.

It was not a dangerous exploit, for he could always pretend that he had simply looked in to ask a question.

Well, when he saw that they were indeed the proofs, it was then that he yielded to temptation. He put his shoes on the table. What was it you put on that chair near the window? Gloves said the young man. Holmes looked triumphantly at banister.

“He put his gloves on the chair, and he took the proofs sheet by sheet to copy them. He thought the tutor must return by the main gate, and that he would see him.”

As we know, he came back by the side gate, suddenly he heard him at the very door. There was no possible escape. He forgot his gloves, but he caught up his shoes and darted into the bedroom. He observed that the scratch on that table is slight at one side, but deepens in the direction of the bedroom door. That in itself is enough to show us that the shoe had been drawn in that direction, and that the culprit had taken refuge there.

The earth, round the spike, had been left on the table, and a second sample was loosened and fell in the bedroom.

I may add that I walked out to the athletic grounds this morning saw that tenacious black clay is used in the jumping pit, and carried away a specimen of it, together with some of the fine tan or sawdust, which is strewn over it, to prevent the athlete from slipping. Have I told the truth Mr. Gilkrist? The student had drawn himself erect. "Yes, sir, it is true," said he. "God, heavens, have you nothing to add," cried songs. "Yes, sir, I have, but the shock of this disgraceful exposure has bewildered me.

Now have I let her here, Mr. Somes, which I wrote to you early this morning in the middle of a restless night. It was before I knew that my sin had found me out. Here it is, sir. You will see that I have said. I have determined not to go in for the examination.

I am indeed pleased to hear that you did not intend to profit by your unfair advantage," said Somes.

"But why did you change your purpose?"

“Gilkrist pointed to Bannister. "There is the man who set me in the right path," said he.”

"Come now, Bannister," said Holmes. "It will be clear to you from what I have said that only you could have let this young man out, since you were left in the room and must have locked the door when you went out as to his escaping by that window it was incredible. Can you not clear up the last point in this mystery and tell us the reasons for your action?" It was simple enough, sir. If you only had known, but with all your cleverness, it was impossible that you could know. Time was, sir, when I was backler, to old Sajabas Gilkrist, this young gentleman's father.

When he was ruined, I came to the college as servant, but I never forgot my old employer, because he was down in the world.

I watched his son all I could for the sake of the old days. Well, sir. When I came into this room yesterday, when the alarm was given, the very first thing I saw was Mr. Gilkrist's tan gloves, allowing in that chair. I knew those gloves well that I understood their message. If Mr. Sones saw them, the game was up.

I flopped down into that chair and nothing would budge me until Mr. Sones went for you.

Then out came my poor young master, whom I had dandled on my knee and confessed it all to me. Wasn't it natural, sir, that I should save him?

“And wasn't it natural also that I should try to speak to him as his dead father would have done?”

And make him understand that he could not profit by such a deed? Could you blame me, sir? Though indeed, said Holmes, heartily, springing to his feet. Well, Sones, I think we have cleared your little problem up, and our breakfast awaits us at home. Come, Watson.

As to you, sir, I'd trust that a bright future awaits you in Rhodesia. For once, you have fallen low. Let us see in the future how high you can rise. (music) Next time on Sherlock Holmes' short stories, Holmes and Watson investigate an antipedean murder in the boscom valley mystery.

John Turner and Charles McCarthy have both returned home to England having spent most of their lives in Australia. Charles and his son James are now living on Turner's estate, where the young lad has grown close to his landlord's daughter, Ellis. But now the elder McCarthy has been found dead. His head stoved in with a blunt object, and James has been arrested for his father's murder.

“Can Sherlock prove the young man's innocence before he's condemned to the gallows?”

That's next time.