“If you had told us of your own free will it would have been adifferent thing，” said the baronet， “you only told us， or rather yourwife only told us， when it was forced from you and you could nothelp yourself.”
“I didn’t think you would have taken advantage of it， SirHenry—indeed I didn’t.”
“The man is a public danger. There are lonely houses scatteredover the moor， and he is a fellow who would stick at nothing. Youonly want to get a glimpse of his face to see that. Look at Mr.
Stapleton’s house， for example， with no one but himself to defendit. There’s no safety for anyone until he is under lock and key.”
“He’ll break into no house， sir. I give you my solemn wordupon that. But he will never trouble anyone in this country again.
I assure you， Sir Henry， that in a very few days the necessaryarrangements will have been made and he will be on his way toSouth America. For God’s sake， sir， I beg of you not to let thepolice know that he is still on the moor. They have given up thechase there， and he can lie quiet until the ship is ready for him.
You can’t tell on him without getting my wife and me into trouble.
I beg you， sir， to say nothing to the police.”
“What do you say， Watson？”
I shrugged my shoulders. “If he were safely out of the country itwould relieve the tax-payer of a burden.”
“But how about the chance of his holding someone up before hegoes？”
“He would not do anything so mad， sir. We have provided himwith all that he can want. To commit a crime would be to showwhere he was hiding.”
“That is true，” said Sir Henry. “Well， Barrymore—”
“God bless you， sir， and thank you from my heart！ It would havekilled my poor wife had he been taken again.”
“I guess we are aiding and abetting a felony， Watson？ But， afterwhat we have heard， I don’t feel as if I could give the man up， sothere is an end of it. All right， Barrymore， you can go.”
With a few broken words of gratitude the man turned， but hehesitated and then came back.
“You’ve been so kind to us， sir， that I should like to do the bestI can for you in return. I know something， Sir Henry， and perhapsI should have said it before， but it was long after the inquest thatI found it out. I’ve never breathed a word about it yet to mortalman. It’s about poor Sir Charles’s death.”
The baronet and I were both upon our feet. “Do you know howhe died？”
“No， sir， I don’t know that.”
“What then？”
“I know why he was at the gate at that hour. It was to meet awoman.”
“To meet a woman！ He？”
“Yes， sir.”
“And the woman’s name？”
“I can’t give you the name， sir， but I can give you the initials.
Her initials were L. L.”
“How do you know this， Barrymore？”
“Well， Sir Henry， your uncle had a letter that morning. He hadusually a great many letters， for he was a public man and wellknown for his kind heart， so that everyone who was in trouble wasglad to turn to him. But that morning， as it chanced， there wasonly this one letter， so I took the more notice of it. It was fromCoombe Tracey， and it was addressed in a woman’s hand.”
“Well？”
“Well， sir， I thought no more of the matter， and never wouldhave done had it not been for my wife. Only a few weeks ago shewas cleaning out Sir Charles’s study—it had never been touchedsince his death—and she found the ashes of a burned letter in theback of the grate. The greater part of it was charred to pieces， butone little slip， the end of a page， hung together， and the writingcould still be read， though it was gray on a black ground. It seemedto us to be a post at the end of the letter， and it said： ‘Please，please， as you are a gentleman， burn this letter， and be at the gateby ten o clock. Beneath it were signed the initials L. L.”
“Have you got that slip？”
“No， sir， it crumbled all to bits after we moved it.”
“Had Sir Charles received any other letters in the same writing？”
“Well， sir， I took no particular notice of his letters. I should nothave noticed this one， only it happened to come alone.”
“And you have no idea who L. L. is？”
“No， sir. No more than you have. But I expect if we could lay ourhands upon that lady we should know more about Sir Charles’s death.”
“I cannot understand， Barrymore， how you came to conceal thisimportant information.”
“Well， sir， it was immediately after that our own trouble came tous. And then again， sir， we were both of us very fond of Sir Charles，as we well might be considering all that he has done for us. To rakethis up couldn’t help our poor master， and it’s well to go carefullywhen there’s a lady in the case. Even the best of us——”
“You thought it might injure his reputation？”
“Well， sir， I thought no good could come of it. But now you havebeen kind to us， and I feel as if it would be treating you unfairlynot to tell you all that I know about the matter.”
“Very good， Barrymore； you can go.” When the butler had leftus Sir Henry turned to me. “Well， Watson， what do you think ofthis new light？”
“It seems to leave the darkness rather blacker than before.”
“So I think. But if we can only trace L. L. it should clear up thewhole business. We have gained that much. We know that there issomeone who has the facts if we can only find her. What do youthink we should do？”
“Let Holmes know all about it at once. It will give him the cluefor which he has been seeking. I am much mistaken if it does notbring him down.”
I went at once to my room and drew up my report of themorning’s conversation for Holmes. It was evident to me thathe had been very busy of late， for the notes which I had fromBaker Street were few and short， with no comments upon theinformation which I had supplied and hardly any reference tomy mission. No doubt his blackmailing case is absorbing all hisfaculties. And yet this new factor must surely arrest his attentionand renew his interest. I wish that he were here.
