"That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and my
mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, that
before taking the final step I should like to submit the whole matter
to your consideration."
"Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the
question," said Holmes, smiling.
"But you would not advise me to refuse?"
"I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a
sister of mine apply for."
"What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?"
"Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed
some opinion?"
"Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr.
Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not
possible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the
matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that he
humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an outbreak?"
"That is a possible solution--in fact, as matters stand, it is the
most probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nice
household for a young lady."
"But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!"
"Well, yes, of course the pay is good--too good. That is what makes
me uneasy. Why should they give you ?20 a year, when they could have
their pick for ?0? There must be some strong reason behind."
"I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand
afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so much stronger if I
felt that you were at the back of me."
"Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that your
little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my
way for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some
of the features. If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger--"
"Danger! What danger do you foresee?"
Holmes shook his head gravely. "It would cease to be a danger if we
could define it," said he. "But at any time, day or night, a telegram
would bring me down to your help."
"That is enough." She rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety
all swept from her face. "I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in
my mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor
hair to-night, and start for Winchester to-morrow." With a few
grateful words to Holmes she bade us both good-night and bustled off
upon her way.
"At least," said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending the
stairs, "she seems to be a young lady who is very well able to take
care of herself."
"And she would need to be," said Holmes gravely. "I am much mistaken
if we do not hear from her before many days are past."
It was not very long before my friend's prediction was fulfilled. A
fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts
turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of
human experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual
salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to
something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the
man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers
to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat frequently for
half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an abstracted air, but he
swept the matter away with a wave of his hand when I mentioned it.
"Data! data! data!" he cried impatiently. "I can't make bricks
without clay." And yet he would always wind up by muttering that no
sister of his should ever have accepted such a situation.
The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as
I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of
those all-night chemical researches which he frequently indulged in,
when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at
night and find him in the same position when I came down to breakfast
in the morning. He opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at
the message, threw it across to me.
"Just look up the trains in Bradshaw," said he, and turned back to
his chemical studies.
The summons was a brief and urgent one.
Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to-morrow
[it said]. Do come! I am at my wit's end.
Hunter.
"Will you come with me?" asked Holmes, glancing up.
"I should wish to."
"Just look it up, then."
"There is a train at half-past nine," said I, glancing over my
Bradshaw. "It is due at Winchester at 11.30."
"That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my
analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the
morning."
By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old
English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the
way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them
down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a
light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting
across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet
there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a
man's energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills
around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings
peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage.
"Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all the enthusiasm
of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street.
But Holmes shook his head gravely.
"Do you know, Watson," said he, "that it is one of the curses of a
mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with
reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered
houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and
the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation
and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there."
"Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with these dear
old homesteads?"
"They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson,
founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in
London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the
smiling and beautiful countryside."
"You horrify me!"
"But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can
do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so
vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's
blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours,
and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word
of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the
crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own
fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know
little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden
wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and
none the wiser. Had this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live
in Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her. It is the five
miles of country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she
is not personally threatened."
"No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away."
"Quite so. She has her freedom."
"What can be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?"
"I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would
cover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct
can only be determined by the fresh information which we shall no
doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral,
and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell."
The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance
from the station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us.
She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the
table.
"I am so delighted that you have come," she said earnestly. "It is so
very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do.
Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me."
"Pray tell us what has happened to you."
"I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. Rucastle
to be back before three. I got his leave to come into town this
morning, though he little knew for what purpose."
"Let us have everything in its due order." Holmes thrust his long
thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen.
"In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no
actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fair to
them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in
my mind about them."
"What can you not understand?"
"Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just as
it occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and drove me
in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully
situated, but it is not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square
block of a house, whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp
and bad weather. There are grounds round it, woods on three sides,
and on the fourth a field which slopes down to the Southampton
highroad, which curves past about a hundred yards from the front
door. This ground in front belongs to the house, but the woods all
round are part of Lord Southerton's preserves. A clump of copper
beeches immediately in front of the hall door has given its name to
the place.
"I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and
was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. There
was no truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be
probable in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I
found her to be a silent, pale-faced woman, much younger than her
husband, not more than thirty, I should think, while he can hardly be
less than forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that
they have been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and
that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone
to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why
she had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her
stepmother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I
can quite imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with
her father's young wife.
"Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in
feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was
a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted
both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes
wandered continually from one to the other, noting every little want
and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his
bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy
couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would
often be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face.
More than once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought
sometimes that it was the disposition of her child which weighed upon
her mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured
a little creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is
quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in
an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of
sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be
his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in
planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would
rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has
little to do with my story."
"I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem to
you to be relevant or not."
"I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant
thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance
and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife.
Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled
hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have
been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed
to take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman
with a sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable.
They are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my
time in the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in
one corner of the building.
"For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very
quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and
whispered something to her husband.
"'Oh, yes,' said he, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you,
