第 41 页

and I will read it to you:

"The Copper Beeches, near Winchester.

"DEAR Mlss HUNTER:

"Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your address, and

I write from here to ask you whether you have reconsidered

your decision. My wife is very anxious that you should

come, for she has been much attracted by my description of

you. We are willing to give 30 pounds a quarter, or 120 pounds a year,

so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience which

our fads may cause you. They are not very exacting, after

all. My wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue

and would like you to wear such a dress indoors in the

morning. You need not, however, go to the expense of

purchasing one, as we have one belonging to my dear

daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which would, I should

think, fit you very well. Then, as to sitting here or there, or

amusing yourself in any manner indicated, that need cause

you no inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no doubt a

pity, especially as I could not help remarking its beauty

during our short interview, but I am afraid that I must

remain firm upon this point, and l only hope that the

increased salary may recompense you for the loss. Your

duties, as far as the child is concerned, are very light. Now

do try to come, and I shall meet you with the dog-cart at

Winchester. Let me know your train.

"Yours faithfully,

"JEPHRO RUCASTLE.

"That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes,

and my mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, how-

ever, 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 120 pounds a year, when

they could have their pick for 40 pounds? 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 dis-

tinctly 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 descend-

ing 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 ful-

filled. 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 gray 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 indigna-

tion 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 expla-

nation?"

"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 step-

mother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I

can quite imagine-that her position must have been uncomfort-

able 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 gray 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 dispro-

portionately 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."