"He is in the Midland Electrical Company, at Coventry."
"He would not pay you a surprise visit?"
"Oh, Mr. Holmes! As if I should not know him!"
"Have you had any other admirers?"
"Several before I knew Cyril."
"And since?"
"There was this dreadful man, Woodley, if you can call him an
admirer."
"No one else?"
Our fair client seemed a little confused.
"Who was he?" asked Holmes.
"Oh, it may be a mere fancy of mine; but it has seemed to me
sometimes that my employer, Mr. Carruthers, takes a great deal of
interest in me. We are thrown rather together. I play his
accompaniments in the evening. He has never said anything. He is a
perfect gentleman. But a girl always knows."
"Ha!" Holmes looked grave. "What does he do for a living?"
"He is a rich man."
"No carriages or horses?"
"Well, at least he is fairly well-to-do. But he goes into the City
two or three times a week. He is deeply interested in South African
gold shares."
"You will let me know any fresh development, Miss Smith. I am very
busy just now, but I will find time to make some inquiries into your
case. In the meantime take no step without letting me know. Good-bye,
and I trust that we shall have nothing but good news from you."
"It is part of the settled order of Nature that such a girl should
have followers," said Holmes, as he pulled at his meditative pipe,
"but for choice not on bicycles in lonely country roads. Some
secretive lover, beyond all doubt. But there are curious and
suggestive details about the case, Watson."
"That he should appear only at that point?"
"Exactly. Our first effort must be to find who are the tenants of
Charlington Hall. Then, again, how about the connection between
Carruthers and Woodley, since they appear to be men of such a
different type? How came they both to be so keen upon looking up
Ralph Smith's relations? One more point. What sort of a menage is it
which pays double the market price for a governess, but does not keep
a horse although six miles from the station? Odd, Watson--very odd!"
"You will go down?"
"No, my dear fellow, you will go down. This may be some trifling
intrigue, and I cannot break my other important research for the sake
of it. On Monday you will arrive early at Farnham; you will conceal
yourself near Charlington Heath; you will observe these facts for
yourself, and act as your own judgment advises. Then, having inquired
as to the occupants of the Hall, you will come back to me and report.
And now, Watson, not another word of the matter until we have a few
solid stepping-stones on which we may hope to get across to our
solution."
We had ascertained from the lady that she went down upon the Monday
by the train which leaves Waterloo at 9.50, so I started early and
caught the 9.13. At Farnham Station I had no difficulty in being
directed to Charlington Heath. It was impossible to mistake the scene
of the young lady's adventure, for the road runs between the open
heath on one side and an old yew hedge upon the other, surrounding a
park which is studded with magnificent trees. There was a main
gateway of lichen-studded stone, each side pillar surmounted by
mouldering heraldic emblems; but besides this central carriage drive
I observed several points where there were gaps in the hedge and
paths leading through them. The house was invisible from the road,
but the surroundings all spoke of gloom and decay.
The heath was covered with golden patches of flowering gorse,
gleaming magnificently in the light of the bright spring sunshine.
Behind one of these clumps I took up my position, so as to command
both the gateway of the Hall and a long stretch of the road upon
either side. It had been deserted when I left it, but now I saw a
cyclist riding down it from the opposite direction to that in which I
had come. He was clad in a dark suit, and I saw that he had a black
beard. On reaching the end of the Charlington grounds he sprang from
his machine and led it through a gap in the hedge, disappearing from
my view.
A quarter of an hour passed and then a second cyclist appeared. This
time it was the young lady coming from the station. I saw her look
about her as she came to the Charlington hedge. An instant later the
man emerged from his hiding-place, sprang upon his cycle, and
followed her. In all the broad landscape those were the only moving
figures, the graceful girl sitting very straight upon her machine,
and the man behind her bending low over his handle-bar, with a
curiously furtive suggestion in every movement. She looked back at
him and slowed her pace. He slowed also. She stopped. He at once
stopped too, keeping two hundred yards behind her. Her next movement
was as unexpected as it was spirited. She suddenly whisked her wheels
round and dashed straight at him! He was as quick as she, however,
and darted off in desperate flight. Presently she came back up the
road again, her head haughtily in the air, not deigning to take any
further notice of her silent attendant. He had turned also, and still
kept his distance until the curve of the road hid them from my sight.
I remained in my hiding-place, and it was well that I did so, for
presently the man reappeared cycling slowly back. He turned in at the
Hall gates and dismounted from his machine. For some few minutes I
could see him standing among the trees. His hands were raised and he
seemed to be settling his necktie. Then he mounted his cycle and rode
away from me down the drive towards the Hall. I ran across the heath
and peered through the trees. Far away I could catch glimpses of the
old grey building with its bristling Tudor chimneys, but the drive
ran through a dense shrubbery, and I saw no more of my man.
However, it seemed to me that I had done a fairly good morning's
work, and I walked back in high spirits to Farnham. The local
house-agent could tell me nothing about Charlington Hall, and
referred me to a well-known firm in Pall Mall. There I halted on my
way home, and met with courtesy from the representative. No, I could
not have Charlington Hall for the summer. I was just too late. It had
been let about a month ago. Mr. Williamson was the name of the
tenant. He was a respectable elderly gentleman. The polite agent was
afraid he could say no more, as the affairs of his clients were not
matters which he could discuss.
Mr. Sherlock Holmes listened with attention to the long report which
I was able to present to him that evening, but it did not elicit that
word of curt praise which I had hoped for and should have valued. On
the contrary, his austere face was even more severe than usual as he
commented upon the things that I had done and the things that I had
not.
"Your hiding-place, my dear Watson, was very faulty. You should have
been behind the hedge; then you would have had a close view of this
interesting person. As it is you were some hundreds of yards away,
and can tell me even less than Miss Smith. She thinks she does not
know the man; I am convinced she does. Why, otherwise, should he be
so desperately anxious that she should not get so near him as to see
his features? You describe him as bending over the handle-bar.
Concealment again, you see. You really have done remarkably badly. He
returns to the house and you want to find out who he is. You come to
a London house-agent!"
"What should I have done?" I cried, with some heat.
"Gone to the nearest public-house. That is the centre of country
gossip. They would have told you every name, from the master to the
scullery-maid. Williamson! It conveys nothing to my mind. If he is an
elderly man he is not this active cyclist who sprints away from that
athletic young lady's pursuit. What have we gained by your
expedition? The knowledge that the girl's story is true. I never
doubted it. That there is a connection between the cyclist and the
Hall. I never doubted that either. That the Hall is tenanted by
Williamson. Who's the better for that? Well, well, my dear sir, don't
look so depressed. We can do little more until next Saturday, and in
the meantime I may make one or two inquiries myself."
Next morning we had a note from Miss Smith, recounting shortly and
accurately the very incidents which I had seen, but the pith of the
letter lay in the postscript:
"I am sure that you will respect my confidence, Mr. Holmes, when I
tell you that my place here has become difficult owing to the fact
that my employer has proposed marriage to me. I am convinced that his
feelings are most deep and most honourable. At the same time my
promise is, of course, given. He took my refusal very seriously, but
also very gently. You can understand, however, that the situation is
a little strained."
"Our young friend seems to be getting into deep waters," said Holmes,
thoughtfully, as he finished the letter. "The case certainly presents
more features of interest and more possibility of development than I
had originally thought. I should be none the worse for a quiet,
peaceful day in the country, and I am inclined to run down this
afternoon and test one or two theories which I have formed."
Holmes's quiet day in the country had a singular termination, for he
arrived at Baker Street late in the evening with a cut lip and a
discoloured lump upon his forehead, besides a general air of
dissipation which would have made his own person the fitting object
of a Scotland Yard investigation. He was immensely tickled by his own
adventures, and laughed heartily as he recounted them.
"I get so little active exercise that it is always a treat," said he.
"You are aware that I have some proficiency in the good old British
sport of boxing. Occasionally it is of service. To-day, for example,
I should have come to very ignominious grief without it."
I begged him to tell me what had occurred.
"I found that country pub which I had already recommended to your
notice, and there I made my discreet inquiries. I was in the bar, and
a garrulous landlord was giving me all that I wanted. Williamson is a
white-bearded man, and he lives alone with a small staff of servants
at the Hall. There is some rumour that he is or has been a clergyman;
but one or two incidents of his short residence at the Hall struck me
as peculiarly unecclesiastical. I have already made some inquiries at
a clerical agency, and they tell me that there was a man of that name
in orders whose career has been a singularly dark one. The landlord
further informed me that there are usually week-end visitors--'a warm
lot, sir'--at the Hall, and especially one gentleman with a red
moustache, Mr. Woodley by name, who was always there. We had got as
far as this when who should walk in but the gentleman himself, who
had been drinking his beer in the tap-room and had heard the whole
conversation. Who was I? What did I want? What did I mean by asking
questions? He had a fine flow of language, and his adjectives were
very vigorous. He ended a string of abuse by a vicious back-hander
which I failed to entirely avoid. The next few minutes were
delicious. It was a straight left against a slogging ruffian. I
emerged as you see me. Mr. Woodley went home in a cart. So ended my
country trip, and it must be confessed that, however enjoyable, my
day on the Surrey border has not been much more profitable than your
own."
The Thursday brought us another letter from our client.
You will not be surprised, Mr. Holmes [said she] to hear that I am
leaving Mr. Carruthers's employment. Even the high pay cannot
reconcile me to the discomforts of my situation. On Saturday I come
up to town and I do not intend to return. Mr. Carruthers has got a
trap, and so the dangers of the lonely road, if there ever were any
dangers, are now over.
As to the special cause of my leaving, it is not merely the strained
situation with Mr. Carruthers, but it is the reappearance of that
odious man, Mr. Woodley. He was always hideous, but he looks more
awful than ever now, for he appears to have had an accident and he is
much disfigured. I saw him out of the window, but I am glad to say I
did not meet him. He had a long talk with Mr. Carruthers, who seemed
much excited afterwards. Woodley must be staying in the
neighbourhood, for he did not sleep here, and yet I caught a glimpse
of him again this morning slinking about in the shrubbery. I would
sooner have a savage wild animal loose about the place. I loathe and
fear him more than I can say. How can Mr. Carruthers endure such a
creature for a moment? However, all my troubles will be over on
Saturday.
"So I trust, Watson; so I trust," said Holmes, gravely. "There is
some deep intrigue going on round that little woman, and it is our
duty to see that no one molests her upon that last journey. I think,
Watson, that we must spare time to run down together on Saturday
