The return of Sherlock Holmes (completed)

The Return Of Sherlock Holmes (part 4)

"Now, my fine fellow," said Stanley Hopkins, "who are you, and
what do you want here?"

The man pulled himself together, and faced us with an effort at
self-composure.

"You are detectives, I suppose?" said he. "You imagine I am
connected with the death of Captain Peter Carey. I assure you
that I am innocent."

"We'll see about that," said Hopkins. "First of all, what is
your name?"

"It is John Hopley Neligan."

I saw Holmes and Hopkins exchange a quick glance.

"What are you doing here?"

"Can I speak confidentially?"

"No, certainly not."

"Why should I tell you?"

"If you have no answer, it may go badly with you at the trial."

The young man winced.

"Well, I will tell you," he said. "Why should I not? And yet I
hate to think of this old scandal gaining a new lease of life.
Did you ever hear of Dawson and Neligan?"

I could see, from Hopkins's face, that he never had, but Holmes
was keenly interested.

"You mean the West Country bankers," said he. "They failed for
a million, ruined half the county families of Cornwall, and
Neligan disappeared."

"Exactly. Neligan was my father."

At last we were getting something positive, and yet it seemed a
long gap between an absconding banker and Captain Peter Carey
pinned against the wall with one of his own harpoons. We all
listened intently to the young man's words.

"It was my father who was really concerned. Dawson had retired.
I was only ten years of age at the time, but I was old enough to
feel the shame and horror of it all. It has always been said
that my father stole all the securities and fled. It is not
true. It was his belief that if he were given time in which to
realize them, all would be well and every creditor paid in full.
He started in his little yacht for Norway just before the
warrant was issued for his arrest. I can remember that last
night when he bade farewell to my mother. He left us a list of
the securities he was taking, and he swore that he would come
back with his honour cleared, and that none who had trusted him
would suffer. Well, no word was ever heard from him again. Both
the yacht and he vanished utterly. We believed, my mother and I,
that he and it, with the securities that he had taken with him,
were at the bottom of the sea. We had a faithful friend,
however, who is a business man, and it was he who discovered
some time ago that some of the securities which my father had
with him had reappeared on the London market. You can imagine
our amazement. I spent months in trying to trace them, and at
last, after many doubtings and difficulties, I discovered that
the original seller had been Captain Peter Carey, the owner of
this hut.

"Naturally, I made some inquiries about the man. I found that he
had been in command of a whaler which was due to return from the
Arctic seas at the very time when my father was crossing to
Norway. The autumn of that year was a stormy one, and there was
a long succession of southerly gales. My father's yacht may well
have been blown to the north, and there met by Captain Peter
Carey's ship. If that were so, what had become of my father? In
any case, if I could prove from Peter Carey's evidence how these
securities came on the market it would be a proof that my father
had not sold them, and that he had no view to personal profit
when he took them.

"I came down to Sussex with the intention of seeing the captain,
but it was at this moment that his terrible death occurred. I
read at the inquest a description of his cabin, in which it
stated that the old logbooks of his vessel were preserved in it.
It struck me that if I could see what occurred in the month of
August, 1883, on board the SEA UNICORN, I might settle the
mystery of my father's fate. I tried last night to get at these
logbooks, but was unable to open the door. To-night I tried
again and succeeded, but I find that the pages which deal with
that month have been torn from the book. It was at that moment
I found myself a prisoner in your hands."