"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 developments,
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 acquire 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 American be, and why should he
possess so much influence over her? It might be a lover; it might be
a husband. Her young womanhood 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
confidential maid, and of her very significant allusion to
claim-jumping--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 information
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 American 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, I 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."
THE ADVENTURE OF THE BERYL CORONET
"Holmes," said I as I stood one morning in our bow-window looking
down the street, "here is a madman coming along. It seems rather sad
that his relatives should allow him to come out alone."
My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his hands in
the pockets of his dressing-gown, looking over my shoulder. It was a
bright, crisp February morning, and the snow of the day before still
lay deep upon the ground, shimmering brightly in the wintry sun. Down
the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughed into a brown crumbly
band by the traffic, but at either side and on the heaped-up edges of
the foot-paths it still lay as white as when it fell. The grey
pavement had been cleaned and scraped, but was still dangerously
slippery, so that there were fewer passengers than usual. Indeed,
from the direction of the Metropolitan Station no one was coming save
the single gentleman whose eccentric conduct had drawn my attention.
He was a man of about fifty, tall, portly, and imposing, with a
massive, strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He was dressed
in a sombre yet rich style, in black frock-coat, shining hat, neat
brown gaiters, and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet his actions were
in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress and features, for he
was running hard, with occasional little springs, such as a weary man
gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs. As he
ran he jerked his hands up and down, waggled his head, and writhed
his face into the most extraordinary contortions.
"What on earth can be the matter with him?" I asked. "He is looking
up at the numbers of the houses."
"I believe that he is coming here," said Holmes, rubbing his hands.
"Here?"
"Yes; I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally. I
think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha! did I not tell you?" As he
spoke, the man, puffing and blowing, rushed at our door and pulled at
our bell until the whole house resounded with the clanging.
A few moments later he was in our room, still puffing, still
gesticulating, but with so fixed a look of grief and despair in his
eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror and pity.
For a while he could not get his words out, but swayed his body and
plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to the extreme
limits of his reason. Then, suddenly springing to his feet, he beat
his head against the wall with such force that we both rushed upon
him and tore him away to the centre of the room. Sherlock Holmes
pushed him down into the easy-chair and, sitting beside him, patted
his hand and chatted with him in the easy, soothing tones which he
knew so well how to employ.
"You have come to me to tell your story, have you not?" said he. "You
are fatigued with your haste. Pray wait until you have recovered
yourself, and then I shall be most happy to look into any little
problem which you may submit to me."
The man sat for a minute or more with a heaving chest, fighting
against his emotion. Then he passed his handkerchief over his brow,
set his lips tight, and turned his face towards us.
"No doubt you think me mad?" said he.
"I see that you have had some great trouble," responded Holmes.
"God knows I have!--a trouble which is enough to unseat my reason, so
sudden and so terrible is it. Public disgrace I might have faced,
although I am a man whose character has never yet borne a stain.
Private affliction also is the lot of every man; but the two coming
together, and in so frightful a form, have been enough to shake my
very soul. Besides, it is not I alone. The very noblest in the land
