HOLMES' SUDDEN SOLUTION
Another Case of Identity
"My suspicions were first aroused when Mr. Maxwell seemed to have intimate knowledge of the subtle details of his brother's insurance coverage. A suicide exclusion clause, when such is written into a policy, is a thoroughly conventional and routine matter and would be scarcely noticed by anyone other than the individual who purchased the policy and who had been particularly apprised of its conditions or, perhaps, someone who hoped to be a beneficiary who had spent some time perusing the policy looking for just such a provision."
"But that is a conjecture on your part, old man," I commented, "you couldn't know that the brothers had not actually discussed the provisions of the policy."
"True, Watson, it was but a matter of suspicion at first," Holmes admitted, "but, then, there were the footprints in the carpet."
"Footprints?"
"Yes, in spite of the fact that the members of the constabulary had trampled up and down the stairs destroying all sorts of evidence, there were a few very deep impressions remaining. The position of those impressions, that is, close to the banister upon which a person might lean for support, along with the depth of the indentations, led me to believe that a very corpulent person, or someone carrying a heavy load, mounted those stairs. And since Mr. Bennington Maxwell could not have weighed more than ten, perhaps eleven, stone, I favor the latter contingency. I think that Mr. Maxwell was killed, or rendered unconscious, on the lower floor then taken upstairs for the staging of a counterfeit suicide."
"But who could have done such a thing? There was no evidence of anyone's being in the house other than the two brothers. Mr. Alexander Maxwell could scarcely have mustered such a feat considering his decrepitude."
"Do you remember, Watson, a gentleman named Josiah Amberley?" Holmes asked.
"That retired colourman; a horrible business. Ghastly double murder!" I recalled with revulsion.
"Yes, but do you remember the man, himself?"
"I think so. Strange creature; small, frail, back bent over as though carrying a great burden . . ."
"Legs, Watson, do you remember his legs?"
I mused for a moment and then remembered, "Why yes, he had one artificial leg."
"I observed that at first glance, do you remember how."
"Uh . . . something about his shoes, if memory serves."
"Yes, the artificial foot does not bend, hence the shoe worn upon such a foot does not undergo usual wear. Such a shoe does not show the customary creases which occur behind the toes and along the sides; those signs of use which appear on shoes worn upon normal feet. A shoe which is never walked in will show that same dearth of ordinary wear. A man confined to a wheel chair should have shoes very much like Josiah Amberley's smooth right one. The gentleman in the wheelchair was wearing two well creased shoes. Those shoes had been walked in and to some considerable extent. A man confined to a wheelchair should not have shoes exhibiting such evidence of having been flexed."
"Really? I didn't notice."
"You see, but you do not observe, Watson. You probably did not notice the shoes adorning the feet of the dead man, either. Those shoes were as smooth as though they had just been taken out to the box fresh from the haberdasher's. In addition, the soles of those shoes were remarkably clean. They had never been worn outside of a house by anyone."
"You mean . . .?
"Yes, I'm afraid so. That is why I advised the physical examination of the man in the wheelchair. I suspect that things are not as they seem. I believe that the dead man was the crippled brother, Alexander, and that the man in the wheelchair is Bennington Maxwell undertaking a brazen impersonation of his less ambulatory brother in an attempt to collect the benefits of his own life insurance. I think that a physical examination will confirm my suspicion that the legs of the Mr. Maxwell who currently occupies that wheelchair are as sound as yours or mine."
"And if we had not happened along at a propitious time he might well have gotten away with it!"
"Surely, Watson, surely. The fates do, indeed, wind a tangled skein."
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