Her calm pale face, with dim, wide-opened blue eyes, lookedupward from amid a great tangle of golden hair. At the foot of thebed, half sitting, half kneeling, his face buried in the clothes, was ayoung man, whose frame was racked by his sobs. So absorbed washe by his bitter grief, that he never looked up until Holmes’s handwas on his shoulder.
“Are you Mr. Godfrey Staunton?”
“Yes, yes, I am—but you are too late. She is dead.”
The man was so dazed that he could not be made to understandthat we were anything but doctors who had been sent to hisassistance. Holmes was endeavouring to utter a few words ofconsolation and to explain the alarm which had been caused to hisfriends by his sudden disappearance when there was a step uponthe stairs, and there was the heavy, stern, questioning face of Dr.
Armstrong at the door.
“So, gentlemen,” said he, “you have attained your end and havecertainly chosen a particularly delicate moment for your intrusion.
I would not brawl in the presence of death, but I can assure youthat if I were a younger man your monstrous conduct would notpass with impunity.”
“Excuse me, Dr. Armstrong, I think we are a little at crosspurposes,”
said my friend, with dignity. “If you could stepdownstairs with us, we may each be able to give some light to theother upon this miserable affair.”
A minute later, the grim doctor and ourselves were in thesitting-room below.
“Well, sir?” said he.
“I wish you to understand, in the first place, that I am notemployed by Lord Mount-James, and that my sympathies in thismatter are entirely against that nobleman. When a man is lost it ismy duty to ascertain his fate, but having done so the matter endsso far as I am concerned, and so long as there is nothing criminalI am much more anxious to hush up private scandals than to givethem publicity. If, as I imagine, there is no breach of the law inthis matter, you can absolutely depend upon my discretion and mycooperation in keeping the facts out of the papers.”
Dr. Armstrong took a quick step forward and wrung Holmes bythe hand.
“You are a good fellow,” said he. “I had misjudged you. I thankheaven that my compunction at leaving poor Staunton all alonein this plight caused me to turn my carriage back and so to makeyour acquaintance. Knowing as much as you do, the situationis very easily explained. A year ago Godfrey Staunton lodgedin London for a time and became passionately attached to hislandlady’s daughter, whom he married. She was as good as shewas beautiful and as intelligent as she was good. No man need beashamed of such a wife. But Godfrey was the heir to this crabbedold nobleman, and it was quite certain that the news of hismarriage would have been the end of his inheritance. I knew thelad well, and I loved him for his many excellent qualities. I did allI could to help him to keep things straight. We did our very bestto keep the thing from everyone, for, when once such a whispergets about, it is not long before everyone has heard it. Thanks tothis lonely cottage and his own discretion, Godfrey has up to nowsucceeded. Their secret was known to no one save to me and toone excellent servant, who has at present gone for assistance toTrumpington. But at last there came a terrible blow in the shapeof dangerous illness to his wife. It was consumption of the mostvirulent kind. The poor boy was half crazed with grief, and yet hehad to go to London to play this match, for he could not get outof it without explanations which would expose his secret. I triedto cheer him up by wire, and he sent me one in reply, imploringme to do all I could. This was the telegram which you appearin some inexplicable way to have seen. I did not tell him howurgent the danger was, for I knew that he could do no good here,but I sent the truth to the girl’s father, and he very injudiciouslycommunicated it to Godfrey. The result was that he came straightaway in a state bordering on frenzy, and has remained in the samestate, kneeling at the end of her bed, until this morning death putan end to her sufferings. That is all, Mr. Holmes, and I am surethat I can rely upon your discretion and that of your friend.”
Holmes grasped the doctor’s hand.
“Come, Watson,” said he, and we passed from that house ofgrief into the pale sunlight of the winter day.
The Adventure of the Abbey Grange
It was on a bitterly cold and frosty morning, towards the end ofthe winter of ‘97, that I was awakened by a tugging at my shoulder.
It was Holmes. The candle in his hand shone upon his eager,stooping face, and told me at a glance that something was amiss.
“Come, Watson, come!” he cried. “The game is afoot. Not aword! Into your clothes and come!”
Ten minutes later we were both in a cab, and rattling through thesilent streets on our way to Charing Cross Station. The first faintwinter’s dawn was beginning to appear, and we could dimly see theoccasional figure of an early workman as he passed us, blurred andindistinct in the opalescent London reek. Holmes nestled in silenceinto his heavy coat, and I was glad to do the same, for the air wasmost bitter, and neither of us had broken our fast.
It was not until we had consumed some hot tea at the stationand taken our places in the Kentish train that we were sufficientlythawed, he to speak and I to listen. Holmes drew a note from hispocket, and read aloud:
Abbey Grange, Marsham, Kent,
3:30 A.M.
“My dear Mr. Holmes:
I should be very glad of your immediate assistance in whatpromises to be a most remarkable case. It is something quite in yourline. Except for releasing the lady I will see that everything is keptexactly as I have found it, but I beg you not to lose an instant, as itis difficult to leave Sir Eustace there.
“Yours faithfully,
“STANLEY HOPKINS.
