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 conclusions 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 examination served to
turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial 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 pre-existing 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, hullo,
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 pea-jacket 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 pea-jacket.
"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
matter?"
"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 disappearance."
"I am afraid that you will find it difficult."
"Are you, indeed, now?" cried Lestrade with some bitterness. "I am
afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your deductions
and your inferences. You have made two blunders 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 I 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 p鈚?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.
