第 34 页

"Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had

ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident

however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible

bearing upon the case."

"Pray let us have it, for all that."

"Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went

towards the vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time,

and it fell over into the pew. There was a moment's delay, but

the gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again, and it did not

appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of

the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in the carriage, on our

way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause."

"Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew.

Some of the general public were present, then?"

"Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is

open."

"This gentleman was not one of your wife's friends?"

"No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite

a common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But

really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point."

"Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less

cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do

on reentering her father's house?"

"I saw her in conversation with her maid."

"And who is her maid?"

"Alice is her name. She is an American and came from

California with her."

"A confidential servant?"

"A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress

allowed her to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America

they look upon these things in a different way."

"How long did she speak to this Alice?"

"Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of."

"You did not overhear what they said?"

"Lady St. Simon said something about 'jumping a claim.' She

was accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she

meant."

"American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did

your wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?"

"She walked into the breakfast-room."

"On your arm?"

"No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like

that. Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose

hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left the room.

She never came back."

"But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went

to her room, covered her bride's dress with a long ulster, put on

a bonnet, and went out."

"Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde

Park in company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in

custody, and who had already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran's

house that morning."

"Ah, yes. I should like a few patticulars as to this young lady,

and your relations to her."

Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eye-

brows. "We have been on a friendly footing for some years -- I

may say on a very friendly footing. She used to be at the

Allegro. I have not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just

cause of complaint against me, but you know what women are,

Mr. Holmes. Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly

hot-headed and devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful

letters when she heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell

the truth, the reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly

was that I feared lest there might be a scandal in the church. She

came to Mr. Doran's door just after we returned, and she en-

deavoured to push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions

towards my wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen

the possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police

fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again.

She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a

row."

"Did your wife hear all this?"

"No, thank goodness, she did not."

"And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?"

"Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks

upon as so serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out

and laid some terrible trap for her."

"Well, it is a possible supposition."

"You think so, too?"

"l did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look

upon this as likely?"

"I do not think Flora would hurt a fly."

"Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray

what is your own theory as to what took place?"

"Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I

have given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may

say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of

this affair, the consciousness that she had made so immense a

social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous distur-

bance in my wife."

"In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?"

"Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back -- I

will not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired

to without success -- I can hardly explain it in any other fashion."

"Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis," said

Holmes, smiling. "And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have

nearly all my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the

breakfast-table so that you could see out of the window?"

"We could see the other side of the road and the Park."

"Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you

longer. I shall communicate with you."

"Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem," said

our client, rising.

"I have solved it."

"Eh? What was that?"

"I say that I have solved it."

"Where, then, is my wife?"

"That is a detail which I shall speedily supply."

Lord St. Simon shook his head. "I am afraid that it will take

wiser heads than yours or mine," he remarked, and bowing in a

stately, old-fashioned manner he departed.

"It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honour my head by

putting it on 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 conclu-

sions 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 exami-

nation served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstan-

tial 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 preexisting 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, hello, 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 peajacket 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 peajacket.

"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 maner?"

"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 disap-

pearance."

"I am afraid that you will find it difficult."

"Are you, indeed, now?" cried Lestrade with some bitter-

ness. "I am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with

your deductions and your inferences. You have made two blun-

ders 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 l 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 pate 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