Reading Help The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes Ch.V-VIII
station, but it could not be shown that there had ever before `
` been anything against him. He had for years been known as a `
` professional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a very `
` quiet and innocent one. There the matter stands at present, and `
` the questions which have to be solved--what Neville St. Clair was `
` doing in the opium den, what happened to him when there, where is `
` he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his disappearance--are `
` all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I cannot `
` recall any case within my experience which looked at the first `
` glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties." `
` `
` While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of `
` events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great `
` town until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and `
` we rattled along with a country hedge upon either side of us. `
` Just as he finished, however, we drove through two scattered `
` villages, where a few lights still glimmered in the windows. `
` `
` "We are on the outskirts of Lee," said my companion. "We have `
` touched on three English counties in our short drive, starting in `
` Middlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. `
` See that light among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside `
` that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already, I have `
` little doubt, caught the clink of our horse's feet." `
` `
` "But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?" I `
` asked. `
` `
` "Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. `
` Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and `
` you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for `
` my friend and colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have `
` no news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!" `
` `
` We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its `
` own grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse's head, and `
` springing down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding `
` gravel-drive which led to the house. As we approached, the door `
` flew open, and a little blonde woman stood in the opening, clad `
` in some sort of light mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy `
` pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with her figure `
` outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon the door, one `
` half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her head `
` and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing `
` question. `
` `
` "Well?" she cried, "well?" And then, seeing that there were two `
` of us, she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw `
` that my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. `
` `
` "No good news?" `
` `
` "None." `
` `
` "No bad?" `
` `
` "No." `
` `
` "Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have `
` had a long day." `
` `
` "This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to `
` me in several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it `
` possible for me to bring him out and associate him with this `
` investigation." `
` `
` "I am delighted to see you," said she, pressing my hand warmly. `
` "You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our `
` arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so `
` suddenly upon us." `
` `
` "My dear madam," said I, "I am an old campaigner, and if I were `
` not I can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of `
` any assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be `
` indeed happy." `
` `
` "Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the lady as we entered a `
` well-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had `
` been laid out, "I should very much like to ask you one or two `
` plain questions, to which I beg that you will give a plain `
` answer." `
` `
` "Certainly, madam." `
` `
` "Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given `
` to fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion." `
` `
` "Upon what point?" `
` `
` "In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. `
` "Frankly, now!" she repeated, standing upon the rug and looking `
` keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket-chair. `
` `
` "Frankly, then, madam, I do not." `
` `
` "You think that he is dead?" `
` `
` "I do." `
` `
` "Murdered?" `
` `
` "I don't say that. Perhaps." `
` `
` "And on what day did he meet his death?" `
` `
` "On Monday." `
` `
` "Then perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how `
` it is that I have received a letter from him to-day." `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been `
` galvanised. `
` `
` "What!" he roared. `
` `
` "Yes, to-day." She stood smiling, holding up a little slip of `
` paper in the air. `
` `
` "May I see it?" `
` `
` "Certainly." `
` `
` He snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out `
` upon the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently. I `
` had left my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The `
` envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend `
` postmark and with the date of that very day, or rather of the day `
` before, for it was considerably after midnight. `
` `
` "Coarse writing," murmured Holmes. "Surely this is not your `
` husband's writing, madam." `
` `
` "No, but the enclosure is." `
` `
` "I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go `
` and inquire as to the address." `
` `
` "How can you tell that?" `
` `
` "The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried `
` itself. The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that `
` blotting-paper has been used. If it had been written straight `
` off, and then blotted, none would be of a deep black shade. This `
` man has written the name, and there has then been a pause before `
` he wrote the address, which can only mean that he was not `
` familiar with it. It is, of course, a trifle, but there is `
` nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha! `
` there has been an enclosure here!" `
` `
` "Yes, there was a ring. His signet-ring." `
` `
` "And you are sure that this is your husband's hand?" `
` `
` "One of his hands." `
` `
` "One?" `
` `
` "His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual `
` writing, and yet I know it well." `
` `
` "'Dearest do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a `
` huge error which it may take some little time to rectify. `
` Wait in patience.--NEVILLE.' Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf `
` of a book, octavo size, no water-mark. Hum! Posted to-day in `
` Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. Ha! And the flap has been `
` gummed, if I am not very much in error, by a person who had been `
` chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt that it is your husband's `
` hand, madam?" `
` `
` "None. Neville wrote those words." `
` `
` "And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, `
` the clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that the `
` danger is over." `
` `
` "But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes." `
` `
` "Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. `
` The ring, after all, proves nothing. It may have been taken from `
` him." `
` `
` "No, no; it is, it is his very own writing!" `
` `
` "Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only `
` posted to-day." `
` `
` "That is possible." `
` `
` "If so, much may have happened between." `
` `
` "Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is `
` well with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I `
` should know if evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him `
` last he cut himself in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room `
` rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that `
` something had happened. Do you think that I would respond to such `
` a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?" `
` `
` "I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman `
`
` been anything against him. He had for years been known as a `
` professional beggar, but his life appeared to have been a very `
` quiet and innocent one. There the matter stands at present, and `
` the questions which have to be solved--what Neville St. Clair was `
` doing in the opium den, what happened to him when there, where is `
` he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his disappearance--are `
` all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I cannot `
` recall any case within my experience which looked at the first `
` glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties." `
` `
` While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of `
` events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great `
` town until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and `
` we rattled along with a country hedge upon either side of us. `
` Just as he finished, however, we drove through two scattered `
` villages, where a few lights still glimmered in the windows. `
` `
` "We are on the outskirts of Lee," said my companion. "We have `
` touched on three English counties in our short drive, starting in `
` Middlesex, passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. `
` See that light among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside `
` that lamp sits a woman whose anxious ears have already, I have `
` little doubt, caught the clink of our horse's feet." `
` `
` "But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street?" I `
` asked. `
` `
` "Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. `
` Mrs. St. Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and `
` you may rest assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for `
` my friend and colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have `
` no news of her husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!" `
` `
` We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its `
` own grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse's head, and `
` springing down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding `
` gravel-drive which led to the house. As we approached, the door `
` flew open, and a little blonde woman stood in the opening, clad `
` in some sort of light mousseline de soie, with a touch of fluffy `
` pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She stood with her figure `
` outlined against the flood of light, one hand upon the door, one `
` half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly bent, her head `
` and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a standing `
` question. `
` `
` "Well?" she cried, "well?" And then, seeing that there were two `
` of us, she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw `
` that my companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders. `
` `
` "No good news?" `
` `
` "None." `
` `
` "No bad?" `
` `
` "No." `
` `
` "Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have `
` had a long day." `
` `
` "This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to `
` me in several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it `
` possible for me to bring him out and associate him with this `
` investigation." `
` `
` "I am delighted to see you," said she, pressing my hand warmly. `
` "You will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our `
` arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so `
` suddenly upon us." `
` `
` "My dear madam," said I, "I am an old campaigner, and if I were `
` not I can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of `
` any assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be `
` indeed happy." `
` `
` "Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes," said the lady as we entered a `
` well-lit dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had `
` been laid out, "I should very much like to ask you one or two `
` plain questions, to which I beg that you will give a plain `
` answer." `
` `
` "Certainly, madam." `
` `
` "Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given `
` to fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion." `
` `
` "Upon what point?" `
` `
` "In your heart of hearts, do you think that Neville is alive?" `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes seemed to be embarrassed by the question. `
` "Frankly, now!" she repeated, standing upon the rug and looking `
` keenly down at him as he leaned back in a basket-chair. `
` `
` "Frankly, then, madam, I do not." `
` `
` "You think that he is dead?" `
` `
` "I do." `
` `
` "Murdered?" `
` `
` "I don't say that. Perhaps." `
` `
` "And on what day did he meet his death?" `
` `
` "On Monday." `
` `
` "Then perhaps, Mr. Holmes, you will be good enough to explain how `
` it is that I have received a letter from him to-day." `
` `
` Sherlock Holmes sprang out of his chair as if he had been `
` galvanised. `
` `
` "What!" he roared. `
` `
` "Yes, to-day." She stood smiling, holding up a little slip of `
` paper in the air. `
` `
` "May I see it?" `
` `
` "Certainly." `
` `
` He snatched it from her in his eagerness, and smoothing it out `
` upon the table he drew over the lamp and examined it intently. I `
` had left my chair and was gazing at it over his shoulder. The `
` envelope was a very coarse one and was stamped with the Gravesend `
` postmark and with the date of that very day, or rather of the day `
` before, for it was considerably after midnight. `
` `
` "Coarse writing," murmured Holmes. "Surely this is not your `
` husband's writing, madam." `
` `
` "No, but the enclosure is." `
` `
` "I perceive also that whoever addressed the envelope had to go `
` and inquire as to the address." `
` `
` "How can you tell that?" `
` `
` "The name, you see, is in perfectly black ink, which has dried `
` itself. The rest is of the greyish colour, which shows that `
` blotting-paper has been used. If it had been written straight `
` off, and then blotted, none would be of a deep black shade. This `
` man has written the name, and there has then been a pause before `
` he wrote the address, which can only mean that he was not `
` familiar with it. It is, of course, a trifle, but there is `
` nothing so important as trifles. Let us now see the letter. Ha! `
` there has been an enclosure here!" `
` `
` "Yes, there was a ring. His signet-ring." `
` `
` "And you are sure that this is your husband's hand?" `
` `
` "One of his hands." `
` `
` "One?" `
` `
` "His hand when he wrote hurriedly. It is very unlike his usual `
` writing, and yet I know it well." `
` `
` "'Dearest do not be frightened. All will come well. There is a `
` huge error which it may take some little time to rectify. `
` Wait in patience.--NEVILLE.' Written in pencil upon the fly-leaf `
` of a book, octavo size, no water-mark. Hum! Posted to-day in `
` Gravesend by a man with a dirty thumb. Ha! And the flap has been `
` gummed, if I am not very much in error, by a person who had been `
` chewing tobacco. And you have no doubt that it is your husband's `
` hand, madam?" `
` `
` "None. Neville wrote those words." `
` `
` "And they were posted to-day at Gravesend. Well, Mrs. St. Clair, `
` the clouds lighten, though I should not venture to say that the `
` danger is over." `
` `
` "But he must be alive, Mr. Holmes." `
` `
` "Unless this is a clever forgery to put us on the wrong scent. `
` The ring, after all, proves nothing. It may have been taken from `
` him." `
` `
` "No, no; it is, it is his very own writing!" `
` `
` "Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only `
` posted to-day." `
` `
` "That is possible." `
` `
` "If so, much may have happened between." `
` `
` "Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is `
` well with him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I `
` should know if evil came upon him. On the very day that I saw him `
` last he cut himself in the bedroom, and yet I in the dining-room `
` rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost certainty that `
` something had happened. Do you think that I would respond to such `
` a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?" `
` `
` "I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman `
`