The Adventure of the Missing Three-Quarter - Page 2

dribbling, there's no one
to touch him, and then, he's got the head, and can hold us all
together. What am I to do? That's what I ask you, Mr. Holmes.
There's Moorhouse, first reserve, but he is trained as a half,
and he always edges right in on to the scrum instead of keeping
out on the touchline. He's a fine place-kick, it's true, but
then he has no judgment, and he can't sprint for nuts. Why,
Morton or Johnson, the Oxford fliers, could romp round him.
Stevenson is fast enough, but he couldn't drop from the
twenty-five line, and a three-quarter who can't either punt or
drop isn't worth a place for pace alone. No, Mr. Holmes, we are
done unless you can help me to find Godfrey Staunton."

My friend had listened with amused surprise to this long speech,
which was poured forth with extraordinary vigour and
earnestness, every point being driven home by the slapping of a
brawny hand upon the speaker's knee. When our visitor was silent
Holmes stretched out his hand and took down letter "S" of his
commonplace book. For once he dug in vain into that mine of
varied information.

"There is Arthur H. Staunton, the rising young forger," said he,
"and there was Henry Staunton, whom I helped to hang, but
Godfrey Staunton is a new name to me."

It was our visitor's turn to look surprised.

"Why, Mr. Holmes, I thought you knew things," said he. "I
suppose, then, if you have never heard of Godfrey Staunton, you
don't know Cyril Overton either?"

Holmes shook his head good humouredly.

"Great Scott!" cried the athlete. "Why, I was first reserve for
England against Wales, and I've skippered the 'Varsity all this
year. But that's nothing! I didn't think there was a soul in
England who didn't know Godfrey Staunton, the crack
three-quarter, Cambridge, Blackheath, and five Internationals.
Good Lord! Mr. Holmes, where HAVE you lived?"

Holmes laughed at the young giant's naive astonishment.

"You live in a different world to me, Mr. Overton--a sweeter and
healthier one. My ramifications stretch out into many sections
of society, but never, I am happy to say, into amateur sport,
which is the best and soundest thing in England. However, your
unexpected visit this morning shows me that even in that world
of fresh air and fair play, there may be work for me to do. So
now, my good sir, I beg you to sit down and to tell me, slowly
and quietly, exactly what it is that has occurred, and how you
desire that I should help you."

Young Overton's face assumed the bothered look of the man who is
more accustomed to using his muscles than his wits, but by
degrees, with many repetitions and obscurities which I may omit
from his narrative, he laid his strange story before us.