第 38 页

Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, stand-

ing back a little from the road. A double carriage-sweep, with a

snow-clad lawn, stretched down in front to two large iron gates

which closed the entrance. On the right side was a small wooden

thicket, which led into a narrow path between two neat hedges

stretching from the road to the kitchen door, and forming the

tradesmen's entrance. On the left ran a lane which led to the

stables, and was not itself within the grounds at all, being a

public, though little used, thoroughfare. Holmes left us standing

at the door and walked slowly all round the house, across the

front, down the tradesmen's path, and so round by the garden

behind into the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder and I

went into the dining-room and waited by the fire until he should

return. We were sitting there in silence when the door opened

and a young lady came in. She was rather above the middle

height, slim, with dark hair and eyes, which seemed the darker

against the absolute pallor of her skin. I do not think that I have

ever seen such deadly paleness in a woman's face. Her lips, too,

were bloodless, but her eyes were flushed with crying. As she

swept silently into the room she impressed me with a greater

sense of grief than the banker had done in the morning, and it

was the more striking in her as she was evidently a woman of

strong character, with immense capacity for self-restraint. Disre-

garding my presence, she went straight to her uncle and passed

her hand over his head with a sweet womanly caress.

"You have given orders that Arthur should be liberated, have

you not, dad?" she asked.

"No, no, my girl, the matter must be probed to the bottom."

"But I am so sure that he is innocent. You know what

woman's instincts are. I know that he has done no harm and that

you will be sorry for having acted so harshly."

"Why is he silent, then, if he is innocent?"

"Who knows? Perhaps because he was so angry that you

should suspect him."

"How could I help suspecting him, when I actually saw him

with the coronet in his hand?"

"Oh, but he had only picked it up to look at it. Oh, do, do

take my word for it that he is innocent. Let the matter drop and

say no more. It is so dreadful to think of our dear Arthur in

prison!"

"I shall never let it drop until the gems are found -- never,

Mary! Your affection for Arthur blinds you as to the awful

consequences to me. Far from hushing the thing up, I have

brought a gentleman down from London to inquire more deeply

into it."

"This gentleman?" she asked, facing round to me.

"No, his friend. He wished us to leave him alone. He is round

in the stable lane now."

"The stable lane?" She raised her dark eyebrows. "What can

he hope to find there? Ah! this, I suppose, is he. I trust, sir, that

you will succeed in proving, what I feel sure is the truth, that my

cousin Arthur is innocent of this crime."

"I fully share your opinion, and I trust, with you, that we may

prove it," returned Holmes, going back to the mat to knock the

snow from his shoes. "I believe I have the honour of addressing

Miss Mary Holder. Might I ask you a question or two?"

"Pray do, sir, if it may help to clear this horrible affair up."

"You heard nothing yourself last night?"

"Nothing, until my uncle here began to speak loudly. I heard

that, and I came down."

"You shut up the windows and doors the night before. Did

you fasten all the windows?"

"Yes ."

"Were they all fastened this morning?"

"Yes."

"You have a maid who has a sweetheart? I think that you

remarked to your uncle last night that she had been out to see

him?"

"Yes, and she was the girl who waited in the drawing-room.

and who may have heard uncle's remarks about the coronet."

"I see. You infer that she may have gone out to tell her

sweetheart, and that the two may have planned the robbery."

"But what is the good of all these vague theories," cried the

banker impatiently, "when I have told you that I saw Arthur

with the coronet in his hands?"

"Wait a little, Mr. Holder. We must come back to that. About

this girl, Miss Holder. You saw her return by the kitchen door, I

presume?"

"Yes; when I went to see if the door was fastened for the

night I met her slipping in. I saw the man, too, in the gloom."

"Do you know him?''

"Oh, yes! he is the green-grocer who brings our vegetables

round. His name is Francis Prosper."

"He stood," said Holmes, "to the left of the door -- that is to

say, farther up the path than is necessary to reach the door?"

"Yes, he did."

"And he is a man with a wooden leg?"

Something like fear sprang up in the young lady's expressive

black eyes. "Why, you are like a magician," said she. "How do

you know that?" She smiled, but there was no answering smile

in Holmes's thin, eager face.

"I should be very glad now to go upstairs," said he. "I shall

probably wish to go over the outside of the house again. Perhaps

I had better take a look at the lower windows before I go up."

He walked swiftly round from one to the other, pausing only

at the large one which looked from the hall onto the stable lane.

This he opened and made a very careful examination of the sill

with his powerful magnifying lens. "Now we shall go upstairs,"

said he at last.

The banker's dressing-room was a plainly furnished little cham-

ber, with a gray carpet, a large bureau, and a long mirror.

Holmes went to the bureau first and looked hard at the lock.

"Which key was used to open it?" he asked.

"That which my son himself indicated -- that of the cupboard

of the lumber-room."

"Have you it here?"

"That is it on the dressing-table."

Sherlock Holmes took it up and opened the bureau.

"It is a noiseless lock," said he. "It is no wonder that it did

not wake you. This case, I presume, contains the coronet. We

must have a look at it." He opened the case, and taking out the

diadem he laid it upon the table. It was a magnificent specimen

of the jeweller's art, and the thiny-six stones were the finest that

I have ever seen. At one side of the coronet was a cracked edge,

where a corner holding three gems had been torn away.

"Now, Mr. Holder," said Holmes, "here is the corner which

corresponds to that which has been so unfortunately lost. Might I

beg that you will break it off."

The banker recoiled in horror. "I should not dream of trying,"

said he.

"Then I will." Holmes suddenly bent his strength upon it, but

without result. "I feel it give a little," said he; "but, though I

am exceptionally strong in the fingers, it would take me all my

time to break it. An ordinary man could not do it. Now, what do

you think would happen if I did break it, Mr. Holder? There

would be a noise like a pistol shot. Do you tell me that all this

happened within a few yards of your bed and that you heard

nothing of it?"

"I do not know what to think. It is all dark to me."

"But perhaps it may grow lighter as we go. What do you

think, Miss Holder?"

"I confess that I still share my uncle's perplexity."

"Your son had no shoes or slippers on when you saw him?"

"He had nothing on save only his trousers and shirt."

"Thank you. We have certainly been favoured with extraordi-

nary luck during this inquiry, and it will be entirely our own

fault if we do not succeed in clearing the matter up. With your

pemmission, Mr. Holder, I shall now continue my investigations

outside."

He went alone, at his own request, for he explained that any

unnecessary footmarks might make his task more difficult. For

an hour or more he was at work, returning at last with his feet

heavy with snow and his features as inscrutable as ever.

"I think that I have seen now all that there is to see, Mr.

Holder," said he; "I can serve you best by returning to my

rooms."

"But the gems, Mr. Holmes. Where are they?"

"I cannot tell."

The banker wrung his hands. "I shall never see them again!"

he cried. "And my son? You give me hopes?"

"My opinion is in no way altered."

"Then, for God's sake, what was this dark business which

was acted in my house last night?"

"If you can call upon me at my Baker Street rooms to-morrow

morning between nine and ten I shall be happy to do what I can

to make it clearer. I understand that you give me carte blanche to

act for you, provided only that I get back the gems, and that you

place no limit on the sum I may draw."

"I would give my fortune to have them back."

"Very good. I shall look into the matter between this and

then. Good-bye; it is just possible that I may have to come over

here again before evening."

It was obvious to me that my companion's mind was now

made up about the case, although what his conclusions were was

more than I could even dimly imagine. Several times during our

homeward journey I endeavoured to sound him upon the point,

but he always glided away to some other topic, until at last I

gave it over in despair. It was not yet three when we found

ourselves in our rooms once more. He hurried to his chamber

and was down again in a few minutes dressed as a common

loafer. With his collar turned up, his shiny, seedy coat, his red

cravat, and his worn boots, he was a perfect sample of the class.

"I think that this should do," said he, glancing into the glass

above the fireplace. "l only wish that you could come with me,

Watson, but I fear that it won't do. I may be on the trail in this

matter, or I may be following a will-o'-the-wisp, but I shall soon

know which it is. I hope that I may be back in a few hours." He

cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard, sandwiched

it between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this rude meal into

his pocket he started off upon his expedition.

I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in excel-

lent spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his hand. He

chucked it down into a corner and helped himself to a cup of

tea.

"I only looked in as I passed," said he. "I am going right on."

"Where to?"

"Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may be some time

before I get back. Don't wait up for me in case I should be

late."

"How are you getting on?"

"Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been out to

Streatham since I saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It

is a very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for

a good deal. However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must

get these disreputable clothes off and return to my highly re-

spectable self."

I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for

satisfaction than his words alone would imply. His eyes twin-

kled, and there was even a touch of colour upon his sallow

cheeks. He hastened upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the

slam of the hall door, which told me that he was off once more

upon his congenial hunt.

I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so

I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be

away for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent,

so that his lateness caused me no surprise. I do not know at what

hour he came in, but when I came down to breakfast in the

morning there he was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the

paper in the other, as fresh and trim as possible.

"You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson," said

he, "but you remember that our client has rather an early

appointment this morning."

"Why, it is after nine now," I answered. "I should not be

surprised if that were he. I thought I heard a ring."

It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the

change which had come over him, for his face which was

naturally of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and

fallen in, while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter. He

entered with a weariness and lethargy which was even more

painful than his violence of the morning before, and he dropped

heavily into the armchair which I pushed forward for him.

"I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried,"

said he. "Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man,

without a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and

dishonoured age. One sorrow comes close upon the heels of

another. My niece, Mary, has deserted me."

"Deserted you?"

"Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in, her room

was empty, and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said

to her last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had

married my boy all might have been well with him. Perhaps it

was thoughtless of me to say so. It is to that remark that she

refers in this note:

"MY DEAREST UNCLE:

"I feel that I have brought trouble upon you, and that if I

had acted differently this terrible misfortune might never

have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my mind, ever

again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must leave

you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is

provided for; and, above all, do not search for me, for it