done yourself no good this morning, Mr. Holmes, for I have broken
stronger men than you. No man ever crossed me and was the better for
it."
"So many have said so, and yet here I am," said Holmes, smiling.
"Well, good-morning, Mr. Gibson. You have a good deal yet to learn."
Our visitor made a noisy exit, but Holmes smoked in imperturbable
silence with dreamy eyes fixed upon the ceiling.
"Any views, Watson?" he asked at last.
"Well, Holmes, I must confess that when I consider that this is a man
who would certainly brush any obstacle from his path, and when I
remember that his wife may have been an obstacle and an object of
dislike, as that man Bates plainly told us, it seems to me--"
"Exactly. And to me also."
"But what were his relations with the governess, and how did you
discover them?"
"Bluff, Watson, bluff! When I considered the passionate,
unconventional, unbusinesslike tone of his letter and contrasted it
with his self-contained manner and appearance, it was pretty clear
that there was some deep emotion which centred upon the accused woman
rather than upon the victim. We've got to understand the exact
relations of those three people if we are to reach the truth. You saw
the frontal attack which I made upon him, and how imperturbably he
received it. Then I bluffed him by giving him the impression that I
was absolutely certain, when in reality I was only extremely
suspicious."
"Perhaps he will come back?"
"He is sure to come back. He must come back. He can't leave it where
it is. Ha! isn't that a ring? Yes, there is his footstep. Well, Mr.
Gibson, I was just saying to Dr. Watson that you were somewhat
overdue."
The Gold King had reentered the room in a more chastened mood than he
had left it. His wounded pride still showed in his resentful eyes,
but his common sense had shown him that he must yield if he would
attain his end.
"I've been thinking it over, Mr. Holmes, and I feel that I have been
hasty in taking your remarks amiss. You are justified in getting down
to the facts, whatever they may be, and I think the more of you for
it. I can assure you, however, that the relations between Miss Dunbar
and me don't really touch this case."
"That is for me to decide, is it not?"
"Yes, I guess that is so. You're like a surgeon who wants every
symptom before he can give his diagnosis."
"Exactly. That expresses it. And it is only a patient who has an
object in deceiving his surgeon who would conceal the facts of his
case."
"That may be so, but you will admit, Mr. Holmes, that most men would
shy off a bit when they are asked point-blank what their relations
with a woman may be--if there is really some serious feeling in the
case. I guess most men have a little private reserve of their own in
some corner of their souls where they don't welcome intruders. And
you burst suddenly into it. But the object excuses you, since it was
to try and save her. Well, the stakes are down and the reserve open,
and you can explore where you will. What is it you want?"
"The truth."
The Gold King paused for a moment as one who marshals his thoughts.
His grim, deep-lined face had become even sadder and more grave.
"I can give it to you in a very few words, Mr. Holmes," said he at
last. "There are some things that are painful as well as difficult to
say, so I won't go deeper than is needful. I met my wife when I was
gold-hunting in Brazil. Maria Pinto was the daughter of a government
official at Manaos, and she was very beautiful. I was young and
ardent in those days, but even now, as I look back with colder blood
and a more critical eye, I can see that she was rare and wonderful in
her beauty. It was a deep rich nature, too, passionate,
whole-hearted, tropical, ill-balanced, very different from the
American women whom I had known. Well, to make a long story short, I
loved her and I married her. It was only when the romance had
passed--and it lingered for years--that I realized that we had
nothing--absolutely nothing--in common. My love faded. If hers had
faded also it might have been easier. But you know the wonderful way
of women! Do what I might, nothing could turn her from me. If I have
been harsh to her, even brutal as some have said, it has been because
I knew that if I could kill her love, or if it turned to hate, it
would be easier for both of us. But nothing changed her. She adored
me in those English woods as she had adored me twenty years ago on
the banks of the Amazon. Do what I might, she was as devoted as ever.
"Then came Miss Grace Dunbar. She answered our advertisement and
became governess to our two children. Perhaps you have seen her
portrait in the papers. The whole world has proclaimed that she also
is a very beautiful woman. Now, I make no pretence to be more moral
than my neighbours, and I will admit to you that I could not live
under the same roof with such a woman and in daily contact with her
without feeling a passionate regard for her. Do you blame me, Mr.
Holmes?"
"I do not blame you for feeling it. I should blame you if you
expressed it, since this young lady was in a sense under your
protection."
"Well, maybe so," said the millionaire, though for a moment the
reproof had brought the old angry gleam into his eyes. "I'm not
pretending to be any better than I am. I guess all my life I've been
a man that reached out his hand for what he wanted, and I never
wanted anything more than the love and possession of that woman. I
told her so."
"Oh, you did, did you?"
Holmes could look very formidable when he was moved.
"I said to her that if I could marry her I would, but that it was out
of my power. I said that money was no object and that all I could do
to make her happy and comfortable would be done."
"Very generous, I am sure," said Holmes with a sneer.
"See here, Mr. Holmes. I came to you on a question of evidence, not
on a question of morals. I'm not asking for your criticism."
"It is only for the young lady's sake that I touch your case at all,"
said Holmes sternly. "I don't know that anything she is accused of is
really worse than what you have yourself admitted, that you have
tried to ruin a defenceless girl who was under your roof. Some of you
rich men have to be taught that all the world cannot be bribed into
condoning your offences."
To my surprise the Gold King took the reproof with equanimity.
"That's how I feel myself about it now. I thank God that my plans did
not work out as I intended. She would have none of it, and she wanted
to leave the house instantly."
"Why did she not?"
"Well, in the first place, others were dependent upon her, and it was
no light matter for her to let them all down by sacrificing her
living. When I had sworn--as I did--that she should never be molested
again, she consented to remain. But there was another reason. She
knew the influence she had over me, and that it was stronger than any
other influence in the world. She wanted to use it for good."
"How?"
"Well, she knew something of my affairs. They are large, Mr.
Holmes--large beyond the belief of an ordinary man. I can make or
break--and it is usually break. It wasn't individuals only. It was
communities, cities, even nations. Business is a hard game, and the
weak go to the wall. I played the game for all it was worth. I never
squealed myself, and I never cared if the other fellow squealed. But
she saw it different. I guess she was right. She believed and said
that a fortune for one man that was more than he needed should not be
built on ten thousand ruined men who were left without the means of
life. That was how she saw it, and I guess she could see past the
dollars to something that was more lasting. She found that I listened
to what she said, and she believed she was serving the world by
influencing my actions. So she stayed--and then this came along."
"Can you throw any light upon that?"
The Gold King paused for a minute or more, his head sunk in his
hands, lost in deep thought.
"It's very black against her. I can't deny that. And women lead an
inward life and may do things beyond the judgment of a man. At first
I was so rattled and taken aback that I was ready to think she had
been led away in some extraordinary fashion that was clean against
her usual nature. One explanation came into my head. I give it to
you, Mr. Holmes, for what it is worth. There is no doubt that my wife
was bitterly jealous. There is a soul-jealousy that can be as frantic
as any body-jealousy, and though my wife had no cause--and I think
she understood this--for the latter, she was aware that this English
girl exerted an influence upon my mind and my acts that she herself
never had. It was an influence for good, but that did not mend the
matter. She was crazy with hatred, and the heat of the Amazon was
always in her blood. She might have planned to murder Miss Dunbar--or
we will say to threaten her with a gun and so frighten her into
leaving us. Then there might have been a scuffle and the gun gone off
and shot the woman who held it."
"That possibility had already occurred to me," said Holmes. "Indeed,
it is the only obvious alternative to deliberate murder."
"But she utterly denies it."
"Well, that is not final--is it? One can understand that a woman
placed in so awful a position might hurry home still in her
bewilderment holding the revolver. She might even throw it down among
her clothes, hardly knowing what she was doing, and when it was found
she might try to lie her way out by a total denial, since all
explanation was impossible. What is against such a supposition?"
"Miss Dunbar herself."
"Well, perhaps."
Holmes looked at his watch. "I have no doubt we can get the necessary
permits this morning and reach Winchester by the evening train. When
I have seen this young lady it is very possible that I may be of more
use to you in the matter, though I cannot promise that my conclusions
will necessarily be such as you desire."
There was some delay in the official pass, and instead of reaching
Winchester that day we went down to Thor Place, the Hampshire estate
of Mr. Neil Gibson. He did not accompany us himself, but we had the
address of Sergeant Coventry, of the local police, who had first
examined into the affair. He was a tall, thin, cadaverous man, with a
secretive and mysterious manner which conveyed the idea that he knew
or suspected a very great deal more than he dared say. He had a
trick, too, of suddenly sinking his voice to a whisper as if he had
come upon something of vital importance, though the information was
usually commonplace enough. Behind these tricks of manner he soon
showed himself to be a decent, honest fellow who was not too proud to
admit that he was out of his depth and would welcome any help.
"Anyhow, I'd rather have you than Scotland Yard, Mr. Holmes," said
he. "If the Yard gets called into a case, then the local loses all
credit for success and may be blamed for failure. Now, you play
straight, so I've heard."
"I need not appear in the matter at all," said Holmes to the evident
relief of our melancholy acquaintance. "If I can clear it up I don't
ask to have my name mentioned."
"Well, it's very handsome of you, I am sure. And your friend, Dr.
Watson, can be trusted, I know. Now, Mr. Holmes, as we walk down to
the place there is one question I should like to ask you. I'd breathe
it to no soul but you." He looked round as though he hardly dare
utter the words. "Don't you think there might be a case against Mr.
Neil Gibson himself?"
"I have been considering that."
"You've not seen Miss Dunbar. She is a wonderful fine woman in every
way. He may well have wished his wife out of the road. And these
Americans are readier with pistols than our folk are. It was his
pistol, you know."
"Was that clearly made out?"
"Yes, sir. It was one of a pair that he had."
"One of a pair? Where is the other?"
"Well, the gentleman has a lot of firearms of one sort and another.
We never quite matched that particular pistol--but the box was made
for two."
"If it was one of a pair you should surely be able to match it."
"Well, we have them all laid out at the house if you would care to
look them over."
"Later, perhaps. I think we will walk down together and have a look
at the scene of the tragedy."
This conversation had taken place in the little front room of
Sergeant Coventry's humble cottage which served as the local
police-station. A walk of half a mile or so across a wind-swept
