The Beetle-Hunter

by Arthur Conan Doyle

"A strange experience?" said the Doctor. "Yes, my friends, I've had one very strange experience in my life. I never expect to have another. You can believe me or not, but the thing happened exactly as I'm about to tell you. I'd just become a doctor, but I hadn't started treating patients. Every week, it became more urgent to find something to do. But I didn't want to be a doctor because my interests were all in science, especially zoology. I had almost given up the fight when, one morning, I picked up a newspaper and was glancing over it. There was no news at all and I was about to throw the paper down again, when I noticed an advertisement. It was worded like this:

"A medical man wanted for one or more days. He must be strong, calm and determined. Must be interested in insects – preferably beetles. Apply for the job, in person, at 77B, Brook Street before twelve o'clock today."

"Now, I've already said that I loved zoology. But, of all the branches of zoology, the study of insects was my favourite, and beetles were the species I knew best. There are many butterfly collectors, but beetles are far more varied and easier to find in Britain than butterflies. That was one of the reasons I first became interested in them. I had a collection of a hundred types now. I also felt I had the other things that the advert said were needed: I was strong, I did not get nervous and, when I made my mind up, I always stuck to it. Clearly, I was the right man for the job. Five minutes after reading the advert, I was in a cab on my way to Brook Street.

"As I drove, I kept thinking about the kind of job it was. Strong, determined, calm, medical training and a knowledge of beetles – what connection could there be between these? And then there was the disappointing fact that the job was temporary and might end from day to day. The more I thought it over, the stranger it seemed; but I always came back to the fact that I had nothing to lose and that I was ready for any adventure which would put a little money in my pocket.

77B, Brook Street was a large and expensive but dull house. Full of hope, I went up the steps and knocked on the door. I followed an expensively-dressed servant into a large, book-lined room. There was a small man with a pleasant face and long grey hair sitting behind a desk. He was Lord Linchmere. He looked me up and down with a very intelligent glance, holding the business card which the servant had given him in his right hand.

"You have come about the job, Dr. Hamilton?" he asked.

"Yes, sir. I believe I am the man you need. I think I am fairly strong."

"Have you ever known danger?"

"No, I never have."

"But you think you would be cool if you were in a dangerous position?"

"I hope so."

"Well, I think you would. I have more confidence in you because you don't pretend to be certain. Talk to me about beetles."

I looked across to see if he was joking but there was a worried expression in his eyes.

"I am afraid you don't know anything about beetles," he cried.

"I do, sir. It is the one scientific subject I really know well."

"I am pleased to hear it. Please talk to me about beetles."

I talked. I said nothing original but I gave a short description of the beetle and talked about some common species, my own little collection and an article on them that I had written.

"What! A collector!" cried Lord Linchmere. "Are you a collector?" His eyes danced with pleasure.

"You are certainly the man I'm looking for. I thought that among five million people in London there must be one man, but the difficulty was to find him. I've been very lucky to meet you."

He rang a bell on the table and the servant entered.

"Ask Lady Rossiter to come in," he said and, a few moments later, the lady came into the room. She was a small, middle-aged woman, like Lord Linchmere in appearance, with the same quick, awake face and grey-black hair. The worried look, however, I had seen on his face was more noticeable on hers. When she turned her face full on me, I was shocked to see a long cut over her right eyebrow. It was partly hidden by a plaster, but I could see that it was a new and serious wound.

"Dr. Hamilton is the man for the job," said Lord Linchmere. "He is actually a collector of beetles and he has written articles on the subject."

"Really!" said Lady Rossiter. "Then you must know about my husband. Everyone who knows anything about beetles knows Sir Thomas Rossiter."

For the first time, I began to understand the business. Here, at last, was a connection between these people and beetles. Sir Thomas Rossiter – he was the greatest expert on the subject in the world. He had made it his lifelong study and had written a famous book on it. I told her that I had read and liked it.

"Have you met my husband?" she asked.

"No, I haven't."

"But you will," said Lord Linchmere.

The lady was standing beside the desk and she put her hand on his shoulder. It was obvious as I saw their faces together that they were brother and sister.

"Are you really ready for this, Charles?"

"Yes, yes, dear; it is all decided. In fact, there is no other way that I can see."

"There is one obvious way."

"No, no, Evelyn, I'll never leave you alone – never. It will be alright – trust me! It'll be alright."

Lord Linchmere came back to me and my job.

"The business I want you for, Dr. Hamilton, is that you should be ready to do exactly what I tell you. I want you to come on a short journey with me, to remain with me and to promise to do whatever I ask you, however unreasonable it may seem."

"That's a lot to ask," said I.

"Unfortunately I can't put it more plainly, because I don't know what might happen. You can be sure, however, that you won't be asked to do anything wrong."

"And the payment?" I asked.

"Twenty pounds a day."

I was amazed and showed my surprise on my face.

"It is an unusual job, as you can see from the advert," said Lord Linchmere; "and your duties might be dangerous. Besides, it's possible that one or two days may be enough."

"So now, Dr. Hamilton, will you help me?"

"Certainly," I said. "Just tell me what my duties are."

"Your first duty is to return home. Pack whatever you need for a short visit to the country. We start together from Paddington Station, London, at 3:40 this afternoon."

"Are we going far?"

"As far as Pangbourne. Meet me at 3:30. I'll have the tickets. And, by the way, please bring two things with you, if you have them. One is your case for collecting beetles and the other is a heavy stick."

I had plenty to think about from the time that I left Brook Street until I set out to meet Lord Linchmere at the station. I had thought of a dozen explanations. At last I gave up trying to find a solution. I was waiting at the station when Lord Linchmere arrived. He was an even smaller man than I'd thought in the morning – more nervous perhaps. He wore a long coat and I noticed that he was carrying a heavy walking stick in his hand.

"I have the tickets," he said.

During the whole journey, he repeated again and again that I must not leave him alone.

"Yes," he said at last, in answer to my looks rather than to my words, "I AM nervous, Dr. Hamilton. I have never been a healthy man. But I'm doing this because it is my duty, although there is a risk."

"I think it would be better, sir, if you trust me," I said. "It's impossible for me to do my job when I don't know what it is or even where we are going."

"Oh, there's no mystery about that," he said; "We are going to Delamere Court, where Sir Thomas Rossiter lives. I don't know that it would be useful, Dr. Hamilton, to tell you everything but the idea is to prevent a family scandal."

There was nothing more to say and a poor man can put up with a lot for twenty pounds a day, but I felt that Lord Linchmere did not trust me. I needed my own eyes and ears to solve the mystery.

Delamere Court is five miles from Pangbourne Station. Lord Linchmere sat in deep thought during the time in the cab and he never opened his mouth until we were nearly there. When he spoke, he told me something which surprised me.

"Perhaps you don't know," he said, "that I'm a doctor like you?"

"No, sir, I did not know."

"Yes, I have never treated patients, but I found it a useful education, all the same. These are the gates of Delamere Court."

I was still looking at this delightful house when my companion pulled nervously at my sleeve.

"Here's Sir Thomas," he whispered. "Please talk about beetles all you can."

A tall, thin figure, very bony, had come from the garden. His face seemed very hard.

"My dear Thomas, how are you?" he asked happily.

But the happiness was not shared. The owner of the house glared at me over his brother-in-law's shoulder, and I caught broken bits of sentences: "hatred of strangers ... unwelcome ... very annoyed."

Then there was a muttered explanation and the two of them came over together to see me.

"This is Sir Thomas Rossiter, Dr. Hamilton," said Lord Linchmere. "You'll find that you share many interests."

"Lord Linchmere tells me that you know something about beetles," he said. "What do you know?"

"I know what I've learnt from your work, Sir Thomas," I answered.

"Give me the names of the better-known species of British beetles," said he.

I had not expected an examination, but luckily I was ready for one. My answers seemed to please him, because his face relaxed.

"You seem to have read my book very carefully, sir," said he. "It's rare to meet anyone who takes an intelligent interest in insects. People can find time for such stupid things like sport or parties, and yet the beetles are forgotten. Most people don't know that I've written a book at all. I'm glad to see you, sir, and I have no doubt that I can show you some things which will interest you."

"I'm sorry," he said, "that Lady Rossiter is not here to help me to welcome you. By the way, Charles, did Evelyn say anything about the date of her return?"

"She wished to stay in town for a few more days," said Lord Linchmere. "You know how my sister has many old friends in London at the moment."

"Well, she can decide. I don't not want to alter her plans, but I'll be glad when I see her again. It's very lonely here without her."

"I thought it might be, and that was partly why I came. My young friend, Dr. Hamilton, is so interested in beetles that I thought you wouldn't mind him coming too."

"I like a quiet life, Dr. Hamilton, and I dislike strangers more and more," said our host. "I have sometimes thought that my nerves are not so good as they were. My travels – to look for beetles, of course – took me to many unhealthy places in my younger days. But a brother scientist, like you, is always welcome, and I'll be delighted if you look over my collection, which is the best in Europe."

And it was. He had beetles from every corner of the world, black, brown, blue, green. Every now and then, he saw a rare specimen and he told me why it was unusual and how he got it. He didn't often meet a sympathetic listener and he talked and talked until the spring evening became night, and the bell told us it was time for dinner. All the time, Lord Linchmere said nothing, but he stood next to his brother-in-law and I caught him continually looking into his face. I was sure that Lord Linchmere was afraid of something and waiting, but I couldn't imagine what it was.

The evening passed quietly but pleasantly. I enjoyed it except for the continual feeling that Lord Linchmere was worried. I thought better and better of our host as I found out more about him. He spoke constantly about his absent wife and also his little son, who had recently gone to boarding school. The house, he said, was not the same without them. If it weren't for his scientific studies, he did not know how he could pass the days. After dinner we smoked for some time in the billiard-room and finally went early to bed.

It was then I thought, for the first time, that Lord Linchmere was mad. He followed me into my bedroom, when our host went to sleep.

"Doctor," said he, speaking in a low, hurried voice, "come with me. You must spend the night in my bedroom."

"What do you mean?"

"I prefer not to explain. But this is part of your duties. My room is near and you can return to your own before the servant calls you in the morning."

"But why?" I asked.

"Because I'm nervous of being alone," said he. "That's the reason, as you must have a reason."

It seemed madness, but those twenty pounds were important. I followed him to his room.

"Well," said I, "there's only room for one in that bed."

"There will only be one in it," said he.

"And the other?"

"Must stay awake."

"Why?" I asked. "Do you expect someone to attack you?"

"Perhaps I do."

"In that case, why not lock your door?"

"Perhaps I WANT to be attacked."

It looked more and more like madness. However, I sat down in the armchair beside the empty fire.

"I must stay awake, then?" said I, sadly.

"We will divide the night. If you will watch until two, I will watch the rest."

"Very good."

"Call me at two o'clock, then."

"I will."

"Keep your ears open and, if you hear a sound, wake me at once."

"You can rely on it." I tried to look as serious as he did.

"And don't go to sleep," he said and, taking off only his coat, he threw the cover over himself and settled down for the night.

It was a long night, made even longer because it seemed mad to be awake. If Lord Linchmere had reason to think he was in danger in the house of Sir Thomas Rossiter, why not lock his door? His own answer that he might wish to be attacked was ridiculous. Why? And who wanted to attack him? But I sat beside the empty fire and listened to the noisy clock. It was an endless wait. Except for that clock, there was absolute silence in the great house. A small lamp stood on the table, throwing a circle of light round my chair, but leaving the corners of the room dark. On the bed Lord Linchmere was sleeping peacefully. I was jealous.

At last, it was two o'clock and I put my hand on the sleeper's shoulder. Now he was sitting up, with interest on his face.

"You have heard something?"

"No, sir. It's two o'clock."

"Very good. I'll watch. You can go to sleep."

I lay down under the cover and was soon asleep. My last memory was of that circle of lamplight, and the worried face of Lord Linchmere in the centre of it.

How long I slept I do not know, but I was suddenly woken by a sharp pull on my sleeve. The room was dark, but a hot smell of oil told me that the lamp was only just out.

"Quick! Quick!" said Lord Linchmere's voice in my ear.

I jumped out of bed.

"Over here!" he whispered, and pulled me into a corner of the room.

"Quiet! Listen!"

In the silence of the night I could clearly hear that someone was walking down the hall. Sometimes for half a minute there was no sound, and then came the noise again. My companion was shaking with excitement. His hand still held my sleeve.

"What is it?" I whispered.

"It's him!"

"Sir Thomas?"

"Yes."

"What does he want?"

"Quiet! Do nothing until I tell you."

Someone was trying the door. There was the faintest little noise from the handle, and then I saw a thin light. There was a lamp burning somewhere down the hall and it was just enough to make the outside visible from the darkness of our room. The greyish light grew wider and wider and then I saw the dark figure of a man. Slowly the door opened with this shape in the centre of it. And then, in a moment, the figure shot up. There were three big blows on the bed from a heavy object.

I was so shocked that I stood motionless until my companion screamed. The open door gave enough light for me to see the shapes of things, and there was little Lord Linchmere with his arms round the neck of his brother-in-law, holding on to him as hard as he could. I hurried to help and the two of us managed to throw Sir Thomas to the ground, though he bit my shoulder. At last we managed to tie his arms. I was holding his legs while Lord Linchmere was trying to light the lamp again, when we heard many feet in the hall, and the servants, who had been worried by the cries, rushed into the room. With their help we had no more difficulty with our prisoner. One glance at his face was enough to prove that he was a dangerous madman, while the heavy hammer beside the bed showed that he was murderous.

"Don't hurt him!" said Lord Linchmere, as we lifted the man to his feet. "He will probably sleep after this excitement. I believe he's sleepy already." As he spoke, the madman's head fell forward on his chest, as if he were very sleepy. We led him down the hall and put him on his own bed, where he lay, breathing heavily.

"Two of you will watch him," said Lord Linchmere. "And now, Dr. Hamilton, if you return with me to my room, I will explain everything.

"I can tell you everything in a very few words," he continued, when we were alone. "My poor brother-in-law is one of the best men in the world, a loving husband and father, but there is madness in his family. He has tried to murder people several times. It's worse because he always wants to attack the people he loves most. His son was sent to school to escape this danger and then he attacked my sister, his wife. You saw her injuries when you met her in London.

"You understand that he knows nothing about all this when he is normal and never believes that he could injure those he loves so much. It is often, as you know, a characteristic of such illnesses that it is absolutely impossible to convince the madman that he does these things.

"He never sees anyone at home and would not see a doctor. Besides, it was necessary that the doctor should believe he was mad; and he is as normal as you or I most of the time. I needed to convince a doctor that Sir Thomas was mad so that we could put him in a hospital. The first problem was how to get a doctor into his house. I thought of his interest in beetles and his love for anyone who shared his hobby. I advertised and was lucky enough to find you.

"I needed a strong man. I think you can understand all the rest. I did not know that the attack would come at night, but I thought it was likely because his crises usually occur in the early hours of the morning. I am a very nervous man, but I saw no other way I could remove this terrible danger from my sister's life. I hope you will sign the documents so he can be sent to a hospital."

"Of course. But TWO signatures are necessary."

"You forget that I am a doctor. I have the papers here, so if you will be good enough to sign them now, we can have the patient taken away in the morning."

So that was my visit to Sir Thomas Rossiter, the famous beetle-hunter, and that was also the start of my career, because Lady Rossiter and Lord Linchmere have become very good friends and they have never forgotten my help when they needed me. Sir Thomas is out of hospital and the doctors say he is cured, but I still think that if I spend another night at Delamere Court, I will lock my door.