“Not a word. I have not seen a paper for some days.”


“The London press has not had very full accounts. I have just been

looking through all the recent papers in order to master the particulars. It

seems, from what I gather, to be one of those simple cases which are so

extremely difficult.”


“That sounds a little paradoxical.”


“But it is profoundly true. Singularity is almost invariably a clue. The

more featureless and commonplace a crime is, the more difficult it is to bring

it home. In this case, however, they have established a very serious case

against the son of the murdered man.”


“It is a murder, then?”


“Well, it is conjectured to be so. I shall take nothing for granted until

I have the opportunity of looking personally into it. I will explain the state

of things to you, as far as I have been able to understand it, in a very few

words.


“Boscombe Valley is a country district not very far from Ross, in

Herefordshire. The largest landed proprietor in that part is a Mr. John Turner,

who made his money in Australia and returned some years ago to the old country.

One of the farms which he held, that of Hatherley, was let to Mr. Charles

McCarthy, who was also an ex-Australian. The men had known each other in the

colonies, so that it was not unnatural that when they came to settle down they

should do so as near each other as possible. Turner was apparently the richer

man, so McCarthy became his tenant but still remained, it seems, upon terms of

perfect equality, as they were frequently together. McCarthy had one son, a lad

of eighteen, and Turner had an only daughter of the same age, but neither of

them had wives living. They appear to have avoided the society of the

neighbouring English families and to have led retired lives, though both the

McCarthys were fond of sport and were frequently seen at the race-meetings of

the neighbourhood. McCarthy kept two servants—a man and a girl. Turner