841 lines
45 KiB
Plaintext
841 lines
45 KiB
Plaintext
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-----=====Earth's Dreamlands=====-----
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(313)558-5024 {14.4} (313)558-5517
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A BBS for text file junkies
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RPGNet GM File Archive Site
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.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.:.
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The Adventure of the Noble Bachelor
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The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have
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long ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in
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which the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have
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eclipsed it, and their more piquant details have drawn the gossips
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away from this four-year-old drama. As I have reason to believe,
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however, that the full facts have never been revealed to the
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general public, and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a consid-
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erable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that no memoir of
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him would be complete without some little sketch of this remark-
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able episode.
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It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days
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when I was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that
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he came home from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the
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table waiting for him. I had remained indoors all day, for the
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weather had taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal
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winds, and the Jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of
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my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull
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persistence. With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon
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another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers
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until at last, saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all
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aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram
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upon the envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my
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friend's noble correspondent could be.
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"Here is a very fashionable epistle," I remarked as he en-
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tered. "Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a
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fish-monger and a tide-waiter."
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"Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety,"
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he answered, smiling, "and the humbler are usually the more
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interesting. This looks like one of those unwelcome social sum-
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monses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie."
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He broke the seal and glanced over the contents.
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"Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after
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all."
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"Not social, then?"
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"No, distinctly professional."
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"And from a noble client?"
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"One of the highest in England."
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"My dear fellow. I congratulate you."
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"I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of
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my client is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of
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his case. It is just possible, however, that that also may not be
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wanting in this new investigation. You have been reading the
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papers diligently of late, have you not?"
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"It looks like it," said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in
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the corner. "I have had nothing else to do."
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"It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. I
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read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column.
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The latter is always instructive. But if you have followed recent
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events so closely you must have read about Lord St. Simon and
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his wedding?"
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"Oh, yes, with the deepest interest."
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"That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from
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Lord St. Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turn
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over these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the
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matter. This is what he says:
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MY DEAR MR. SHERLOCK HOLMES:
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"Lord Backwater tells me that I may place implicit reliance
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upon your judgment and discretion. I have determined,
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therefore, to call upon you and to consult you in reference
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to the very painful event which has occurred in connection
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with my wedding. Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, is acting
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already in the matter, but he assures me that he sees no
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objection to your cooperation, and that he even thinks that it
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might be of some assistance. I will call at four o'clock in
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the afternoon, and, should you have any other engagement
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at that time, I hope that you will postpone it, as this matter
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is of paramount importance.
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"Yours faithfully,
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"ST. SIMON.
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"It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill
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pen, and the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of
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ink upon the outer side of his right little finger," remarked
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Holmes as he folded up the epistle.
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"He says four o'clock. It is three now. He will be here in an
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hour."
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"Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon
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the subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in
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their order of time, while I take a glance as to who our client
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is." He picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of
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reference beside the mantelpiece. "Here he is," said he, sitting
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down and flattening it out upon his knee. "Lord Robert
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Walsingham de Vere St. Simon, second son of the Duke of
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Balmoral. Hum! Arms: Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess
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sable. Born in 1846. He's forty-one years of age, which is
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mature for marriage. Was Under-Secretary for the colonies in a
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late administration. The Duke, his father, was at one time Secre-
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tary for Foreign Affairs. They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct
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descent, and Tudor on the distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing
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very instructive in all this. I think that I must turn to you
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Watson, for something more solid."
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"I have very little difficulty in finding what I want," said I,
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"for the facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me as
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remarkable. I feared to refer them to you, however, as I knew
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that you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked the
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intrusion of other matters."
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"Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square
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furniture van. That is quite cleared up now -- though, indeed, it
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was obvious from the first. Pray give me the results of your
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newspaper selections."
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"Here is the first notice which I can find. It is in the personal
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column of the Morning Post, and dates, as you see, some weeks
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back:
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"A marriage has been arranged [it says] and will, if rumour
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is correct, very shortly take place, between Lord Robert St.
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Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty
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Doran, the only daughter of Aloysius Doran. Esq., of San
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Francisco, Cal., U. S. A.
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That is all."
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"Terse and to the point," remarked Holmes, stretching his
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long, thin legs towards the fire.
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"There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society
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papers of the same week. Ah, here it is:
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"There will soon be a call for protection in the marriage
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market, for the present free-trade principle appears to tell
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heavily against our home product. One by one the manage-
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ment of the noble houses of Great Britain is passing into the
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hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic. An
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important addition has been made during the last week to
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the list of the prizes which have been borne away by these
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charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, who has shown himself
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for over twenty years proof against the little god's arrows,
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has now definitely announced his approaching marriage with
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Miss Hatty Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California
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millionaire. Miss Doran, whose graceful figure and striking
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face attracted much attention at the Westbury House festivi-
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ties, is an only child, and it is currently reported that her
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dowry will run to considerably over the six figures, with
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expectancies for the future. As it is an open secret that the
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Duke of Balmoral has been compelled to sell his pictures within
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the last few years, and as Lord St. Simon has no property of
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his own save the small estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious
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that the Californian heiress is not the only gainer by an
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alliance which will enable her to make the easy and com-
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mon transition from a Republican lady to a British peeress."
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"Anything else?" asked Holmes, yawning.
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"Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the Morning
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Post to say that the mariage would be an absolutely quiet one,
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that it would be at St. George's, Hanover Square, that only half
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a dozen intimate friends would be invited, and that the party
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would return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has
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been taken by Mr. Aloysius Doran. Two days later -- that is, on
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Wednesday last -- there is a curt announcement that the wedding
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had taken place, and that the honeymoon would be passed at
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Lord Backwater's place, near Petersfield. Those are all the no-
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tices which appeared before the disappearance of the bride."
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"Before the what?" asked Holmes with a start.
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"The vanishing of the lady."
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"When did she vanish, then?"
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"At the wedding breakfast."
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"Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite
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dramatic, in fact."
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"Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common."
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"They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally
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during the honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite
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so prompt as this. Pray let me have the details."
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"I warn you that they are very incomplete."
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"Perhaps we may make them less so."
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"Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a
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morning paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is
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headed, 'Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding':
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"The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown
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into the greatest consternation by the strange and painful
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episodes which have taken place in connection with his
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wedding. The ceremony, as shortly announced in the papers
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of yesterday, occurred on the previous morning; but it is
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only now that it has been possible to confirm the strange
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rumours which have been so persistently floating about. In
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spite of the attempts of the friends to hush the matter up, so
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much public attention has now been drawn to it that no
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good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what
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is a common subject for conversation.
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"The ceremony, which was performed at St. George's,
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Hanover Square, was a very quiet one, no one being present
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save the father of the bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duch-
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ess of Balmoral, Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace, and Lady
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Clara St. Simon (the younger brother and sister of the
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bridegroom), and Lady Alicia Whittington. The whole party
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proceeded afterwards to the house of Mr. Aloysius Doran,
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at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been prepared. It
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appears that some little trouble was caused by a woman,
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whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavoured to
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force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging
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that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only
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after a painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by
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the butler and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately
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entered the house before this unpleasant interruption, had
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sat down to breakfast with the rest, when she complained of
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a sudden indisposition and retired to her room. Her pro-
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longed absence having caused some comment, her father
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followed her, but learned from her maid that she had only
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come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an ulster
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and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One of the
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footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house
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thus apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his
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mistress, believing her to be with the company. On ascer-
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taining that his daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius
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Doran, in conjunction with the bridegroom, instantly put
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themselves in communication with the police, and very
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energetic inquiries are being made, which will probably
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result in a speedy clearing up of this very singular business.
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Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing had tran-
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spired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There are
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rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the
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police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused
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the original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or
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some other motive, she may have been concerned in the
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strange disappearance of the bride."
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"And is that all?"
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"Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it
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is a suggestive one."
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"And it is --"
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"That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the distur-
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bance, has actually been arrested. It appears that she was for-
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merly a danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the
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bridegroom for some years. There are no further particulars, and
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the whole case is in your hands now -- so far as it has been set
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forth in the public press."
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"And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would
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not have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell,
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Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I
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have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not
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dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a wit-
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ness, if only as a check to my own memory."
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"Lord Robert St. Simon," announced our page-boy, throwing
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open the door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured
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face, high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance
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about the mouth, and with the steady, well-opened eye of a man
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whose pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be
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obeyed. His manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance
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gave an undue impression of age, for he had a slight forward
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stoop and a little bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too,
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as he swept off his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled round
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the edges and thin upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to
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the verge of foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat,
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white waistcoat, yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-
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coloured gaiters. He advanced slowly into the room, turning his
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head from left to right, and swinging in his right hand the cord
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which held his golden eyeglasses.
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"Goodday, Lord St. Simon," said Holmes, rising and bow-
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ing. "Pray take the basket-chair. This is my friend and col-
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league, Dr. Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk
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this matter over."
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"A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily
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imagine, Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand
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that you have already managed several delicate cases of this sort
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sir, though I presume that they were hardly from the same class
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of society."
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"No, I am descending."
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"I beg pardon."
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"My last client of the sort was a king."
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"Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?"
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"The King of Scandinavia."
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"What! Had he lost his wife?"
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"You can understand," said Holmes suavely, "that I extend
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to the affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I
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promise to you in yours."
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"Of course! Very right! very right! I'm sure I beg pardon. As
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to my own case, I am ready to give you any information which
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may assist you in forming an opinion."
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"Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public
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prints, nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct --
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this article, for example, as to the disappearance of the bride."
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Lord St. Simon glanced over it. "Yes, it is correct, as far as it
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goes."
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"But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone
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could offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most
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directly by questioning you."
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"Pray do so."
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"When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?"
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"In San Francisco, a year ago."
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"You were travelling in the States?"
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"Yes."
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"Did you become engaged then?"
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"No."
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"But you were on a friendly footing?"
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"I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was
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amused."
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"Her father is very rich?"
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"He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope."
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"And how did he make his money?"
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"In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck
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gold, invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds."
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"Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady's --
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your wife's character?"
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The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down
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into the fire. "You see, Mr. Holmes," said he, "my wife was
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twenty before her father became a rich man. During that time she
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ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or
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mountains, so that her education has come from Nature rather
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than from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in England a
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tomboy, with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any
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sort of traditions. She is impetuous -- volcanic, I was about to
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say. She is swift in making up her mind and fearless in cartying
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out her resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given
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her the name which I have the honour to bear" -- he gave a little
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stately cough -- "had not I thought her to be at bottom a noble
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woman. I believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and
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that anything dishonourable would be repugnant to her."
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"Have you her photograph?"
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"I brought this with me." He opened a locket and showed us
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the full face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but
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an ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect
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of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the exquisite
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mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he closed
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the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon.
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"The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed
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your acquaintance?"
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"Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season.
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I met her several times, became engaged to her, and have now
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married her."
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"She brought. I understand. a considerable dowry?"
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"A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family."
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"And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a
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fait accompli?"
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"I really have made no inquiries on the subject."
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"Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day
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before the wedding?"
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"Yes."
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"Was she in good spirits?"
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"Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our
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future lives."
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"Indeed! That is vety interesting. And on the morning of the
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wedding?"
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"She was as bright as possible -- at least until after the
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ceremony."
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"And did you observe any change in her then?"
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"Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had
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ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident
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however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible
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bearing upon the case."
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"Pray let us have it, for all that."
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"Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went
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towards the vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time,
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and it fell over into the pew. There was a moment's delay, but
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the gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again, and it did not
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appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of
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the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in the carriage, on our
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way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause."
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"Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew.
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Some of the general public were present, then?"
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"Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is
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open."
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"This gentleman was not one of your wife's friends?"
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"No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite
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a common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But
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really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point."
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"Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less
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cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do
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on reentering her father's house?"
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"I saw her in conversation with her maid."
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"And who is her maid?"
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"Alice is her name. She is an American and came from
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California with her."
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"A confidential servant?"
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"A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress
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allowed her to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America
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they look upon these things in a different way."
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"How long did she speak to this Alice?"
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"Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of."
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"You did not overhear what they said?"
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"Lady St. Simon said something about 'jumping a claim.' She
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was accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she
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meant."
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"American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did
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your wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?"
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"She walked into the breakfast-room."
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"On your arm?"
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"No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like
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that. Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose
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hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left the room.
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She never came back."
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"But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went
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to her room, covered her bride's dress with a long ulster, put on
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a bonnet, and went out."
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"Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde
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Park in company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in
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custody, and who had already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran's
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house that morning."
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"Ah, yes. I should like a few patticulars as to this young lady,
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and your relations to her."
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Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eye-
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brows. "We have been on a friendly footing for some years -- I
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may say on a very friendly footing. She used to be at the
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Allegro. I have not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just
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||
cause of complaint against me, but you know what women are,
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Mr. Holmes. Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly
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hot-headed and devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful
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letters when she heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell
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the truth, the reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly
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was that I feared lest there might be a scandal in the church. She
|
||
came to Mr. Doran's door just after we returned, and she en-
|
||
deavoured to push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions
|
||
towards my wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen
|
||
the possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police
|
||
fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again.
|
||
She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a
|
||
row."
|
||
"Did your wife hear all this?"
|
||
"No, thank goodness, she did not."
|
||
"And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?"
|
||
"Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks
|
||
upon as so serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out
|
||
and laid some terrible trap for her."
|
||
"Well, it is a possible supposition."
|
||
"You think so, too?"
|
||
"l did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look
|
||
upon this as likely?"
|
||
"I do not think Flora would hurt a fly."
|
||
"Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray
|
||
what is your own theory as to what took place?"
|
||
"Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I
|
||
have given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may
|
||
say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of
|
||
this affair, the consciousness that she had made so immense a
|
||
social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous distur-
|
||
bance in my wife."
|
||
"In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?"
|
||
"Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back -- I
|
||
will not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired
|
||
to without success -- I can hardly explain it in any other fashion."
|
||
"Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis," said
|
||
Holmes, smiling. "And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have
|
||
nearly all my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the
|
||
breakfast-table so that you could see out of the window?"
|
||
"We could see the other side of the road and the Park."
|
||
"Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you
|
||
longer. I shall communicate with you."
|
||
"Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem," said
|
||
our client, rising.
|
||
"I have solved it."
|
||
"Eh? What was that?"
|
||
"I say that I have solved it."
|
||
"Where, then, is my wife?"
|
||
"That is a detail which I shall speedily supply."
|
||
Lord St. Simon shook his head. "I am afraid that it will take
|
||
wiser heads than yours or mine," he remarked, and bowing in a
|
||
stately, old-fashioned manner he departed.
|
||
"It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by
|
||
putting it on a level with his own," said Sherlock Holmes,
|
||
laughing. "I think that I shall have a whisky and soda and a
|
||
cigar after all this cross-questioning. I had formed my conclu-
|
||
sions as to the case before our client came into the room."
|
||
"My dear Holmes!"
|
||
"I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I
|
||
remarked before, which were quite as prompt. My whole exami-
|
||
nation served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstan-
|
||
tial evidence is occasionally very convincing, as when you find a
|
||
trout in the milk, to quote Thoreau's example."
|
||
"But I have heard all that you have heard."
|
||
"Without, however, the knowledge of preexisting cases which
|
||
serves me so well. There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen
|
||
some years back, and something on very much the same lines at
|
||
Munich the year after the Franco-Prussian War. It is one of these
|
||
cases -- but, hello, here is Lestrade! Good-afternoon, Lestrade!
|
||
You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard,.and there are
|
||
cigars in the box."
|
||
The official detective was attired in a peajacket and cravat,
|
||
which gave him a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried
|
||
a black canvas bag in his hand. With a short greeting he seated
|
||
himself and lit the cigar which had been offered to him.
|
||
"What's up, then?" asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye.
|
||
"You look dissatisfied."
|
||
"And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage
|
||
case. I can make neither head nor tail of the business."
|
||
"Really! You surprise me."
|
||
"Who ever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems to
|
||
slip through my fingers. I have been at work upon it all day."
|
||
"And very wet it seems to have made you," said Holmes
|
||
laying his hand upon the arm of the peajacket.
|
||
"Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine."
|
||
"In heaven's name, what for?"
|
||
"In search of the body of Lady St. Simon."
|
||
Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.
|
||
"Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?"
|
||
he asked.
|
||
"Why? What do you mean?"
|
||
"Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady
|
||
in the one as in the other."
|
||
Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. "I suppose you
|
||
know all about it," he snarled.
|
||
"Well, I have only just heard the facts, but my mind is made
|
||
up."
|
||
"Oh, indeed! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part
|
||
in the maner?"
|
||
"I think it very unlikely."
|
||
"Then perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we found
|
||
this in it?" He opened his bag as he spoke, and tumbled onto the
|
||
floor a wedding-dress of watered silk, a pair of white satin shoes
|
||
and a bride's wreath and veil, all discoloured and soaked in
|
||
water. "There," said he, putting a new wedding-ring upon the
|
||
top of the pile. "There is a little nut for you to crack, Master
|
||
Holmes."
|
||
"Oh, indeed!" said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air.
|
||
"You dragged them from the Serpentine?"
|
||
"No. They were found floating near the margin by a park-
|
||
keeper. They have been identified as her clothes, and it seemed
|
||
to me that if the clothes were there the body would not be far
|
||
off."
|
||
"By the same brilliant reasoning, every man's body is to be
|
||
found in the neighbourhood of his wardrobe. And pray what did
|
||
you hope to arrive at through this?"
|
||
"At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disap-
|
||
pearance."
|
||
"I am afraid that you will find it difficult."
|
||
"Are you, indeed, now?" cried Lestrade with some bitter-
|
||
ness. "I am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with
|
||
your deductions and your inferences. You have made two blun-
|
||
ders in as many minutes. This dress does implicate Miss Flora
|
||
Millar."
|
||
"And how?"
|
||
"In the dress is a pocket. In the pocket is a card-case. In the
|
||
card-case is a note. And here is the very note." He slapped it
|
||
down upon the table in front of him. "Listen to this:
|
||
|
||
"You will see me when all is ready. Come at once.
|
||
"F. H. M.
|
||
|
||
Now my theory all along has been that Lady St. Simon was
|
||
decoyed away by Flora Millar, and that she, with confederates,
|
||
no doubt, was responsible for her disappearance. Here, signed
|
||
with her initials, is the very note which was no doubt quietly
|
||
slipped into her hand at the door and which lured her within
|
||
their reach."
|
||
"Very good, Lestrade," said Holmes, laughing. "You really
|
||
are very fine indeed. Let me see it." He took up the paper in a
|
||
listless way, but his attention instantly became riveted, and he
|
||
gave a little cry of satisfaction. "This is indeed important," said
|
||
he.
|
||
"Ha! you find it so?"
|
||
"Extremely so. I congratulate you warmly."
|
||
Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. "Why,"
|
||
he shrieked, "you're looking at the wrong side!"
|
||
"On the contrary, this is the right side."
|
||
"The right side? You're mad! Here is the note written in
|
||
pencil over here."
|
||
"And over here is what appears to be the fragment of a hotel
|
||
bill, which interests me deeply."
|
||
"There's nothing in it. I looked at it before," said Lestrade.
|
||
|
||
"Oct. 4th, rooms 8s., breakfast 2s. 6d., cocktail 1s.,
|
||
lunch 2s. 6d., glass sherry, 8d.
|
||
|
||
I see nothing in that."
|
||
"Very likely not. It is most important, all the same. As to the
|
||
note, it is important also, or at least the initials are, so I
|
||
congratulate you again."
|
||
"I've wasted time enough," said Lestrade, rising. "I believe
|
||
in hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning fine theories.
|
||
Good-day, Mr. Holmes, and we shall see which gets to the
|
||
bottom of the matter first." He gathered up the garments, thrust
|
||
them into the bag, and made for the door.
|
||
"Just one hint to you, Lestrade," drawled Holmes before his
|
||
rival vanished; "I will tell you the true solution of the matter.
|
||
Lady St. Simon is a myth. There is not, and there never has
|
||
been, any such person."
|
||
Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to
|
||
me, tapped his forehead three times, shook his head solemnly,
|
||
and hurried away.
|
||
He had hardly shut the door behind him when Holmes rose to
|
||
put on his overcoat. "There is something in what the fellow says
|
||
about outdoor work," he remarked, "so l think, Watson, that I
|
||
must leave you to your papers for a little."
|
||
It was after five o'clock when Sherlock Holmes left me, but I
|
||
had no time to be lonely, for within an hour there arrived a
|
||
confectioner's man with a very large flat box. This he unpacked
|
||
with the help of a youth whom he had brought with him, and
|
||
presently, to my very great astonishment, a quite epicurean little
|
||
cold supper began to be laid out upon our humble lodging-house
|
||
mahogany. There were a couple of brace of cold woodcock, a
|
||
pheasant, a pate de foie gras pie with a group of ancient and
|
||
cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all these luxuries, my two
|
||
visitors vanished away, like the genii of the Arabian Nights, with
|
||
no explanation save that the things had been paid for and were
|
||
ordered to this address.
|
||
Just before nine o'clock Sherlock Holmes stepped briskly into
|
||
the room. His features were gravely set, but there was a light in
|
||
his eye which made me think that he had not been disappointed
|
||
in his conclusions.
|
||
"They have laid the supper, then," he said, rubbing his
|
||
hands.
|
||
"You seem to expect company. They have laid for five."
|
||
"Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in," said
|
||
he. "I am surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived.
|
||
Ha! I fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs."
|
||
It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling
|
||
in, dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a
|
||
very perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features.
|
||
"My messenger reached you, then?" asked Holmes.
|
||
"Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond
|
||
measure. Have you good authority for what you say?"
|
||
"The best possible."
|
||
Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his
|
||
forehead.
|
||
"What will the Duke say," he murmured, "when he hears
|
||
that one of the family has been subjected to such humiliation?"
|
||
"It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any
|
||
humiliation. "
|
||
"Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint."
|
||
"I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the
|
||
lady could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of
|
||
doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she
|
||
had no one to advise her at such a crisis."
|
||
"It was a slight, sir, a public slight," said Lord St. Simon,
|
||
tapping his fingers upon the table.
|
||
"You must make allowance for this poor girl, placed in so
|
||
unprecedented a position."
|
||
"I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I
|
||
have been shamefully used."
|
||
"I think that I heard a ring," said Holmes. "Yes, there are
|
||
steps on the landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient
|
||
view of the matter, Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate
|
||
here who may be more successful." He opened the door and
|
||
ushered in a lady and gentleman. "Lord St. Simon," said he
|
||
"allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hay
|
||
Moulton. The lady, I think, you have already met."
|
||
At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his
|
||
seat and stood very erect, with his eyes cast down and his hand
|
||
thrust into the breast of his frock-coat, a picture of offended
|
||
dignity. The lady had taken a quick step forward and had held
|
||
out her hand to him, but he still refused to raise his eyes. It was
|
||
as well for his resolution, perhaps, for her pleading face was one
|
||
which it was hard to resist.
|
||
"You're angry, Robert," said she. "Well, I guess you have
|
||
every cause to be."
|
||
"Pray make no apology to me," said Lord St. Simon bitterly.
|
||
"Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I
|
||
should have spoken to you before I went; but I was kind of
|
||
rattled, and from the time when I saw Frank here again I just
|
||
didn't know what I was doing or saying. I only wonder I didn't
|
||
fall down and do a faint right there before the altar."
|
||
"Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to
|
||
leave the room while you explain this matter?"
|
||
"If I may give an opinion," remarked the strange gentleman,
|
||
"we've had just a little too much secrecy over this business
|
||
already. For my part, I should like all Europe and America to
|
||
hear the rights of it." He was a small, wiry, sunburnt man,
|
||
clean-shaven, with a sharp face and alert manner.
|
||
"Then I'll tell our story right away," said the lady. "Frank
|
||
here and I met in '84, in McQuire's camp, near the Rockies,
|
||
where pa was working a claim. We were engaged to each other,
|
||
Frank and I; but then one day father struck a rich pocket and
|
||
made a pile, while poor Frank here had a claim that petered out
|
||
and came to nothing. The richer pa grew the poorer was Frank;
|
||
so at last pa wouldn't hear of our engagement lasting any longer,
|
||
and he took me away to 'Frisco. Frank wouldn't throw up his
|
||
hand, though; so he followed me there, and he saw me without
|
||
pa knowing anything about it. It would only have made him mad
|
||
to know, so we just fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that
|
||
he would go and make his pile, too, and never come back to
|
||
claim me until he had as much as pa. So then I promised to wait
|
||
for him to the end of time and pledged myself not to marry
|
||
anyone else while he lived. 'Why shouldn't we be married right
|
||
away, then,' said he, 'and then I will feel sure of you; and I
|
||
won't claim to be your husband until I come back?' Well, we
|
||
talked it over, and he had fixed it all up so nicely, with a
|
||
clergyman all ready in waiting, that we just did it right there; and
|
||
then Frank went off to seek his fortune, and I went back to pa.
|
||
"The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana, and
|
||
then he went prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of him
|
||
from New Mexico. After that came a long newspaper story about
|
||
how a miners' camp had been attacked by Apache Indians, and
|
||
there was my Frank's name among the killed. I fainted dead
|
||
away, and I was very sick for months after. Pa thought I had a
|
||
decline and took me to half the doctors in 'Frisco. Not a word of
|
||
news came for a year and more, so that I never doubted that
|
||
Frank was really dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to 'Frisco,
|
||
and we came to London, and a marriage was arranged, and pa
|
||
was very pleased, but I felt all the time that no man on this earth
|
||
would ever take the place in my heart that had been given to my
|
||
poor Frank.
|
||
"Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I'd have
|
||
done my duty by him. We can't command our love, but we can
|
||
our actions. I went to the altar with him with the intention to
|
||
make him just as good a wife as it was in me to be. But you may
|
||
imagine what I felt when, just as I came to the altar rails, I
|
||
glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me out of
|
||
the first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first; but when I
|
||
looked again there he was still, with a kind of question in his
|
||
eyes, as if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him. I
|
||
wonder I didn't drop. I know that everything was turning round,
|
||
and the words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee
|
||
in my ear. I didn't know what to do. Should I stop the service
|
||
and make a scene in the church? I glanced at him again, and he
|
||
seemed to know what I was thinking, for he raised his finger to
|
||
his lips to tell me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on a piece
|
||
of paper, and I knew that he was writing me a note. As I passed
|
||
his pew on the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him, and
|
||
he slipped the note into my hand when he returned me the
|
||
flowers. It was only a line asking me to join him when he made
|
||
the sign to me to do so. Of course I never doubted for a moment
|
||
that my first duty was now to him, and I determined to do just
|
||
whatever he might direct.
|
||
"When I got back I told my maid, who had known him in
|
||
California, and had always been his friend. I ordered her to say
|
||
nothing, but to get a few things packed and my ulster ready. I
|
||
know I ought to have spoken to Lord St. Simon, but it was
|
||
dreadful hard before his mother and all those great people. I just
|
||
made up my mind to run away and explain afterwards. I hadn't
|
||
been at the table ten minutes before I saw Frank out of the
|
||
window at the other side of the road. He beckoned to me and
|
||
then began walking into the Park. I slipped out, put on my
|
||
things, and followed him. Some woman came talking something
|
||
or other about Lord St. Simon to me -- seemed to me from the
|
||
little I heard as if he had a little secret of his own before
|
||
marriage also -- but I managed to get away from her and soon
|
||
overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and away we drove
|
||
to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square, and that was
|
||
my true wedding after all those years of waiting. Frank had been
|
||
a prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to 'Frisco,
|
||
found that I had given him up for dead and had gone to England,
|
||
followed me there, and had come upon me at last on the very
|
||
morning of my second wedding."
|
||
"I saw it in a paper," explained the American. "It gave the
|
||
name and the church but not where the lady lived."
|
||
"Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was
|
||
all for openness, but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I
|
||
should like to vanish away and never see any of them again --
|
||
just sending a line to pa, perhaps, to show him that I was alive.
|
||
It was awful to me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting
|
||
round that breakfast-table and waiting for me to come back. So
|
||
Frank took my wedding-clothes and things and made a bundle of
|
||
them, so that I should not be traced, and dropped them away
|
||
somewhere where no one could find them. It is likely that we
|
||
should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, only that this good
|
||
gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came round to us this evening, though
|
||
how he found us is more than I can think, and he showed us very
|
||
clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was right, and
|
||
that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so
|
||
secret. Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord St.
|
||
Simon alone, and so we came right away round to his rooms at
|
||
once. Now, Robert, you have heard it all, and I am very sorry if
|
||
I have given you pain, and I hope that you do not think very
|
||
meanly of me."
|
||
Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but
|
||
had listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this
|
||
long narrative.
|
||
"Excuse me," he said, "but it is not my custom to discuss
|
||
my most intimate personal affairs in this public manner."
|
||
"Then you won't forgive me? You won't shake hands before
|
||
I go?"
|
||
"Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure." He put out
|
||
his hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him.
|
||
"I had hoped," suggested Holmes, "that you would have
|
||
joined us in a friendly supper."
|
||
"I think that there you ask a little too much," responded his
|
||
Lordship. "I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent develop-
|
||
ments, but I can hardly be expected to make merry over them. I
|
||
think that with your permission I will now wish you all a very
|
||
good-night." He included us all in a sweeping bow and stalked
|
||
out of the room.
|
||
"Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your
|
||
company," said Sherlock Holmes. "It is always a joy to meet an
|
||
American, Mr. Moulton, for I am one of those who believe that
|
||
the folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in
|
||
far-gone years will not prevent our children from being some day
|
||
citizens of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall
|
||
be a quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes."
|
||
"The case has been an interesting one," remarked Holmes
|
||
when our visitors had left us, "because it serves to show very
|
||
clearly how simple the explanation may be of an affair which at
|
||
first sight seems to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could be
|
||
more natural than the sequence of events as narrated by this lady,
|
||
and nothing stranger than the result when viewed, for instance
|
||
by Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard."
|
||
"You were not yourself at fault at all, then?"
|
||
"From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one
|
||
that the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding
|
||
ceremony, the other that she had repented of it within a few
|
||
minutes of returning home. Obviously something had occurred
|
||
during the morning, then, to cause her to change her mind. What
|
||
could that something be? She could not have spoken to anyone
|
||
when she was out, for she had been in the company of the
|
||
bridegroom. Had she seen someone, then? If she had, it must be
|
||
someone from America because she had spent so short a time in
|
||
this country that she could hardly have allowed anyone to ac-
|
||
quire so deep an influence over her that the mere sight of him
|
||
would induce her to change her plans so completely. You see we
|
||
have already arrived, by a process of exclusion, at the idea that
|
||
she might have seen an American. Then who could this Ameri-
|
||
can be, and why should he possess so much influence over her?
|
||
It might be a lover; it might be a husband. Her young woman-
|
||
hood had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes and under strange
|
||
conditions. So far I had got before I ever heard Lord St. Simon's
|
||
narrative. When he told us of a man in a pew, of the change in
|
||
the bride's manner, of so transparent a device for obtaining a
|
||
note as the dropping of a bouquet, of her resort to her confiden-
|
||
tial maid, and of her very significant allusion to claimjumping --
|
||
which in miners' parlance means taking possession of that which
|
||
another person has a prior claim to -- the whole situation became
|
||
absolutely clear. She had gone off with a man, and the man was
|
||
either a lover or was a previous husband -- the chances being in
|
||
favour of the latter."
|
||
"And how in the world did you find them?"
|
||
"It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held infor-
|
||
mation in his hands the value of which he did not himself know.
|
||
The initials were, of course, of the highest importance, but more
|
||
valuable still was it to know that within a week he had settled his
|
||
bill at one of the most select London hotels."
|
||
"How did you deduce the select?"
|
||
"By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence
|
||
for a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels.
|
||
There are not many in London which charge at that rate. In the
|
||
second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I learned
|
||
by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton, an Ameri-
|
||
can gentleman, had left only the day before, and on looking over
|
||
the entries against him, I came upon the very items which I had
|
||
seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwarded to 226
|
||
Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and being fortunate enough
|
||
to find the loving couple at home, l ventured to give them some
|
||
paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be better in
|
||
every way that they should make their position a little clearer
|
||
both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in particular. I
|
||
invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I made him keep
|
||
the appointment."
|
||
"But with no very good result," I remarked. "His conduct
|
||
was certainly not very gracious."
|
||
"Ah, Watson," said Holmes, smiling, "perhaps you would
|
||
not be very gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and
|
||
wedding, you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and
|
||
of fortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very
|
||
mercifully and thank our stars that we are never likely to find
|
||
ourselves in the same position. Draw your chair up and hand me
|
||
my violin, for the only problem we have still to solve is how to
|
||
while away these bleak autumnal evenings."
|
||
|