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- Артур Конан Дойл
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The
little
man
's
eyes
sparkled
as
he
spoke
,
and
he
was
evidently
in
a
state
of
suppressed
exultation
at
having
scored
a
point
against
his
colleague
.
"
Come
here
,
"
he
said
,
bustling
back
into
the
room
,
the
atmosphere
of
which
felt
clearer
since
the
removal
of
its
ghastly
inmate
.
"
Now
,
stand
there
!
"
He
struck
a
match
on
his
boot
and
held
it
up
against
the
wall
.
"
Look
at
that
!
"
he
said
,
triumphantly
.
I
have
remarked
that
the
paper
had
fallen
away
in
parts
.
In
this
particular
corner
of
the
room
a
large
piece
had
peeled
off
,
leaving
a
yellow
square
of
coarse
plastering
.
Across
this
bare
space
there
was
scrawled
in
blood-red
letters
a
single
word
--
RACHE
.
"
What
do
you
think
of
that
?
"
cried
the
detective
,
with
the
air
of
a
showman
exhibiting
his
show
.
"
This
was
overlooked
because
it
was
in
the
darkest
corner
of
the
room
,
and
no
one
thought
of
looking
there
.
The
murderer
has
written
it
with
his
or
her
own
blood
.
See
this
smear
where
it
has
trickled
down
the
wall
!
That
disposes
of
the
idea
of
suicide
anyhow
.
Why
was
that
corner
chosen
to
write
it
on
?
I
will
tell
you
.
See
that
candle
on
the
mantelpiece
.
It
was
lit
at
the
time
,
and
if
it
was
lit
this
corner
would
be
the
brightest
instead
of
the
darkest
portion
of
the
wall
.
"
"
And
what
does
it
mean
now
that
you
have
found
it
?
"
asked
Gregson
in
a
depreciatory
voice
.
"
Mean
?
Why
,
it
means
that
the
writer
was
going
to
put
the
female
name
Rachel
,
but
was
disturbed
before
he
or
she
had
time
to
finish
.
You
mark
my
words
,
when
this
case
comes
to
be
cleared
up
you
will
find
that
a
woman
named
Rachel
has
something
to
do
with
it
.
It
's
all
very
well
for
you
to
laugh
,
Mr.
Sherlock
Holmes
.
You
may
be
very
smart
and
clever
,
but
the
old
hound
is
the
best
,
when
all
is
said
and
done
.
"