The Single Cartridge Problem

By Brad Keefauver and John Holliday

Of all the little forensic puzzles offered by the Canon of Sherlock Holmes, “The Adventure of the Dancing Men” offers us one of the most puzzling. Once all the code business is over and done, the case comes down to, very simply, this:

Hilton and Elsie Cubitt are found shot after two shots are heard. A revolver lies halfway between them with two shots fired. Hilton has a bullet in his heart, Elsie, one in her brain. But another bullet is found in the window frame, so another shot is presumed, fired at the same moment as the first. Sherlock Holmes combs the flower bed and finds a single brass cartridge.

Holmes’s conclusion is that a third person, outside the window, fired in at Hilton Cubitt while Cubitt fired back at the person, hitting the window. Elsie Cubitt , overcome with grief, then shot herself. Later, when Abe Slaney is lured back to the scene of the crime and gives a less-than-detailed confession, this is shown to be the truth of the matter.

The problem lies in the single brass cartridge. Why is it in the flower bed?

“The revolver had an ejector,” Holmes concludes, not helping matters any. Revolvers of the day required either that all six cartridges be ejected at once when the gun was broken open, or the performance of a labor intensive process consisting of opening the loading gate, half-cocking the hammer, manually spinning the cylinder to the right position, pushing the cartridge out with the ejector rod, and manually taking the cartridge the rest of the way out. This means that either six cartridges, five of them unused, would have been found in the flowerbed or that Abe Slaney, the man in the flower bed, was some sort of crazed compulsive sort, taking unnecessary time in his getaway just to make sure his gun was fully loaded.

In his article “Firearms in the Canon: The Adventure of the Dancing Men” (Baker Street Journal, March 1991), Dante Torrese concludes that Abe Slaney used a Colt Single Action Army revolver. The Colt would have required Slaney to perform the latter time-consuming process described above, stopping and reloading the sixth bullet before fleeing the scene of the crime. As we’ve seen, this was not a simple task.

Torrese writes “It was and continues to be common practice among professional pistoleros to reload as soon as possible to avoid having to remember how many cartridges have been used and how many remain. Every self-respecting gunslinger knew this . . .”

The big flaw in Torrese’s example is the image of Abe Slaney as a six-gun-wielding cowboy from the American West. In reality, Slaney was a Chicago gangster. Watson describes him thus:

“He was a tall, handsome, swarthy fellow, clad in a suit of gray flannel, with a Panama hat . . . flourishing a cane as he walked.”

No mention of a big leather holster there that we can see. And even after Slaney is arrested, there is no mention of a gun being taken from him. Obviously, Abe Slaney was an urban criminal, who behaved very differently from Torrese’s “gunslinger.” Slaney was also visiting a foreign country, and did not want to draw attention to himself by carrying a large weapon — something not in common practice in either England or Chicago of the time.

We have only Holmes’s conjecture that Slaney carried a revolver, and that is a conjecture transcribed by Watson. The actual word “revolver” may never have been used. And given the circumstances, it is very probable that Abe Slaney did not carry a revolver at all. He was, after all, going to meet an ex-girlfriend, not purposefully going to kill anyone.

What Slaney probably had on his person was a .41 rimfire single shot derringer of Colt manufacture, kept as a hideout gun in a watch pocket or inside jacket pocket. When Hilton Cubitt came out waving his revolver, Slaney went for his own gun and fired just as Cubitt did. Using the good instincts of anyone who knew gunplay, Slaney was also ducking under the window ledge even as he fired.

Hiding in the cover of the ledge, Slaney unlocked the barrel of his derringer and swung it sideways to kick out the cartridge. He then reloaded and waited a few seconds for Hilton Cubitt to come over the window ledge, not knowing if he’d killed or injured his opponent. When Cubitt didn’t come after a moment or two, Slaney fled.

If Slaney had still had five bullets in his gun, he would never have taken the time to reload one shell with the chance that Cubitt would be on him at any second. A single shot derringer is the only reasonable explanation for Slaney’s actions and that single brass cartridge. That, and the fact that he still wasn’t sure whether or not he had killed Hilton Cubitt. During his confession, he admits he saw Cubitt drop, but like Slaney, Cubitt could have been diving for cover. This uncertainty also shows up the next day, when Slaney is described as coming to the murder scene like so:

“He swaggered up the path as if the place belonged to him, and we heard his loud, confident peal at the bell.”

No criminal in his right mind, however he was summoned, would come back to the scene of a recent murder with that much confidence. Only one who thought the police would be nowhere near would return in such a manner. If he knew he killed Cubitt, he wouldn’t have walked straight into the police trap like he did. Slaney walks into the house where he murdered a man the night before, then is surprised to find Inspector Martin slapping handcuffs on him. Strangely enough, however, Abe Slaney starts to laugh.

“Well, gentlemen, you have the drop on me this time,” he says, seeming somewhat amused. And why is Slaney so amused?

Remember how we mentioned earlier about no gun being taken from Slaney by the police? Well, the single shot derringer was not the sort of thing Scotland Yard inspectors were used to looking for. Abe Slaney may have been handcuffed, but he still had the gun he used to kill Hilton Cubitt.

While it’s true Watson tells us that “Abe Slaney was condemned to death at the winter assizes at Norwich, but his penalty was changed to penal servitude,” it is also true that Inspector Martin is never seen again after “The Adventure of the Dancing Men.” Perhaps Watson didn’t want his readers to know about the American gangster who made his escape after killing a Scotland Yard inspector. So it is that the solution of one mystery, the single cartridge problem solved by the single shot derringer, provides us with another mystery, the fate of Inspector Martin. Did Abe Slaney have the last laugh after all?

Mysteries within mysteries, however, are the bread and cheese of the Grand Game, so we’ll leave that little bit of Sherlockian sustenance for another day.