The Noble Bachelor's Adventure

The Lord St. Simon marriage, and its curious termination, have long ceased to be a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have eclipsed it, and their more piquant details have drawn the gossips away from this four-year-old drama. As I have reason to believe, however, that the full facts have never been revealed to the general public, and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a considerable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that no memoir of him would be complete without some little sketch of this remarkable episode.

Lord St. Simon’s marriage and its curious end have long since ceased to interest the high society in which the unfortunate bridegroom moves. New scandals have overshadowed it. Their juicier details have drawn the gossips away from this four-year-old drama. However, I have reason to believe that the full facts have never been revealed to the public. My friend Sherlock Holmes also played a considerable part in clearing up the mystery. For these reasons, I feel that no memoir of him would be complete without a short account of this remarkable episode.

It was a few weeks before my own marriage, during the days when I was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street, that he came home from an afternoon stroll to find a letter on the table waiting for him. I had remained indoors all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turn to rain, with high autumnal winds, and the jezail bullet which I had brought back in one of my limbs as a relic of my Afghan campaign throbbed with dull persistence. With my body in one easy-chair and my legs upon another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers until at last, saturated with the news of the day, I tossed them all aside and lay listless, watching the huge crest and monogram upon the envelope upon the table and wondering lazily who my friend’s noble correspondent could be.

A few weeks before my marriage, I was still sharing rooms with Holmes in Baker Street. One afternoon, he returned from a walk and found a letter waiting for him on the table. I had stayed indoors all day because the weather had suddenly turned rainy, with strong autumn winds. The jezail bullet lodged in one of my limbs during the Afghan campaign caused a steady, dull ache. I sat in one armchair with my legs on another, surrounded by newspapers. At last, having had my fill of the day’s news, I tossed them all aside. I lay there listlessly, watching the large crest and monogram on the envelope. I wondered idly which noble person had written to my friend.

“Here is a very fashionable epistle,” I remarked as he entered. “Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a fish-monger and a tide-waiter.”

“Here is a very fashionable letter,” I remarked as he entered. “If I remember correctly, your morning letters were from a fish seller and a customs officer.”

“Yes, my correspondence has certainly the charm of variety,” he answered, smiling, “and the humbler are usually the more interesting. This looks like one of those unwelcome social summonses which call upon a man either to be bored or to lie.”

“Yes, my mail certainly has the charm of variety,” he replied, smiling. “The more modest letters are usually more interesting. This looks like one of those unwelcome social invitations that force a man to be bored or to lie.”

He broke the seal and glanced over the contents.

He broke the seal and glanced at the contents.

“Oh, come, it may prove to be something of interest, after all.”

“Oh, come on, it may turn out to be interesting after all.”

“Not social, then?”

“Not social, then?”

“No, distinctly professional.”

“No, definitely professional.”

“And from a noble client?”

“And from a noble client?”

“One of the highest in England.”

“One of the highest in England.”

“My dear fellow, I congratulate you.”

“My dear friend, congratulations.”

“I assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my client is a matter of less moment to me than the interest of his case. It is just possible, however, that that also may not be wanting in this new investigation. You have been reading the papers diligently of late, have you not?”

“I assure you, Watson, I am not pretending when I say my client’s status matters less to me than how interesting his case is. However, it is just possible that this new case may also be interesting. You have been reading the newspapers carefully lately, haven’t you?”

“It looks like it,” said I ruefully, pointing to a huge bundle in the corner. “I have had nothing else to do.”

“It looks like it,” I said with regret, pointing to a huge bundle in the corner. “I’ve had nothing else to do.”

“It is fortunate, for you will perhaps be able to post me up. I read nothing except the criminal news and the agony column. The latter is always instructive. But if you have followed recent events so closely you must have read about Lord St. Simon and his wedding?”

“That’s fortunate, because perhaps you can bring me up to date. I read only crime news and the personal ads. The personal ads are always instructive. But if you’ve followed recent events so closely, you must have read about Lord St. Simon and his wedding?”

“Oh, yes, with the deepest interest.”

“Oh, yes, with great interest.”

“That is well. The letter which I hold in my hand is from Lord St. Simon. I will read it to you, and in return you must turn over these papers and let me have whatever bears upon the matter. This is what he says:

“That is good. The letter I’m holding is from Lord St. Simon. I’ll read it to you. In return, please look through these papers and give me anything relevant to the matter. Here is what he says:

“‘ROBERT ST. SIMON.’

“‘ROBERT ST. SIMON.’

“It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with a quill pen, and the noble lord has had the misfortune to get a smear of ink upon the outer side of his right little finger,” remarked Holmes as he folded up the epistle.

“It is dated Grosvenor Mansions and was written with a quill pen. The noble lord has unfortunately gotten ink on the outside of his right little finger,” Holmes remarked as he folded the letter.

“He says four o’clock. It is three now. He will be here in an hour.”

“He says four o’clock. It’s three now. He’ll be here in an hour.”

“Then I have just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon the subject. Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in their order of time, while I take a glance as to who our client is.” He picked a red-covered volume from a line of books of reference beside the mantelpiece. “Here he is,” said he, sitting down and flattening it out upon his knee. “‘Lord Robert Walsingham de Vere St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral.’ Hum! ‘Arms: Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess sable. Born in 1846.’ He’s forty-one years of age, which is mature for marriage. Was Under-Secretary for the colonies in a late administration. The Duke, his father, was at one time Secretary for Foreign Affairs. They inherit Plantagenet blood by direct descent, and Tudor on the distaff side. Ha! Well, there is nothing very instructive in all this. I think that I must turn to you Watson, for something more solid.”

“Then, with your help, I have just enough time to get a clear picture of the matter. Go through those papers and arrange the extracts in chronological order, while I find out who our client is.” He picked up a red-covered volume from a row of reference books beside the mantelpiece. “Here he is,” he said, sitting down and laying the book open on his knee. “‘Lord Robert Walsingham de Vere St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral.’ Hmm! ‘Arms: Azure, three caltrops in chief over a fess sable. Born in 1846.’ He’s forty-one years old, which is rather late for marriage. He was Under-Secretary for the Colonies in a recent government. His father, the Duke, was once Secretary for Foreign Affairs. They are descended directly from the Plantagenets and from the Tudors through the female line. Ha! Well, none of this tells us very much. I think I must turn to you, Watson, for something more substantial.”

“I have very little difficulty in finding what I want,” said I, “for the facts are quite recent, and the matter struck me as remarkable. I feared to refer them to you, however, as I knew that you had an inquiry on hand and that you disliked the intrusion of other matters.”

“I can find what I want quite easily,” I said, “because the events were recent and struck me as remarkable. But I hesitated to bring them to your attention. I knew you were working on an investigation and disliked being interrupted with other matters.”

“Oh, you mean the little problem of the Grosvenor Square furniture van. That is quite cleared up now—though, indeed, it was obvious from the first. Pray give me the results of your newspaper selections.”

“Oh, you mean the little mystery of the Grosvenor Square furniture van. It has been completely solved now, though the answer was obvious from the start. Please tell me what you found in the newspapers.”

“Here is the first notice which I can find. It is in the personal column of the Morning Post, and dates, as you see, some weeks back: ‘A marriage has been arranged,’ it says, ‘and will, if rumour is correct, very shortly take place, between Lord Robert St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty Doran, the only daughter of Aloysius Doran. Esq., of San Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.’ That is all.”

“Here is the first notice I can find. It appeared in the personal column of the Morning Post several weeks ago, as you can see. It says: ‘A marriage has been arranged. If the rumors are correct, it will take place very soon. The couple are Lord Robert St. Simon, second son of the Duke of Balmoral, and Miss Hatty Doran, the only daughter of Aloysius Doran, Esq., of San Francisco, Cal., U.S.A.’ That is all.”

“Terse and to the point,” remarked Holmes, stretching his long, thin legs towards the fire.

“Short and to the point,” said Holmes, stretching his long, thin legs toward the fire.

“There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society papers of the same week. Ah, here it is: ‘There will soon be a call for protection in the marriage market, for the present free-trade principle appears to tell heavily against our home product. One by one the management of the noble houses of Great Britain is passing into the hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic. An important addition has been made during the last week to the list of the prizes which have been borne away by these charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, who has shown himself for over twenty years proof against the little god’s arrows, has now definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hatty Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss Doran, whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much attention at the Westbury House festivities, is an only child, and it is currently reported that her dowry will run to considerably over the six figures, with expectancies for the future. As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few years, and as Lord St. Simon has no property of his own save the small estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious that the Californian heiress is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her to make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady to a British peeress.’”

“There was a paragraph with more details about this in one of the society papers that same week. Ah, here it is: ‘Soon we shall need protection for the marriage market. The current principle of free trade seems to put our home product at a serious disadvantage. One by one, Britain’s noble houses are passing into the hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic. Last week, these charming invaders added another important prize to their list. For more than twenty years, Lord St. Simon has resisted the little god’s arrows. Now he has definitely announced his coming marriage to Miss Hatty Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss Doran’s graceful figure and striking face attracted much attention at the Westbury House festivities. She is an only child, and her dowry is widely reported to be well over six figures, with further wealth expected. It is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has had to sell his pictures in recent years. Lord St. Simon has no property of his own except the small estate of Birchmoor. So the Californian heiress is clearly not the only one to gain from the marriage. It will allow her to make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady to a British peeress.’”

“Anything else?” asked Holmes, yawning.

“Anything else?” asked Holmes, yawning.

“Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the Morning Post to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it would be at St. George’s, Hanover Square, that only half a dozen intimate friends would be invited, and that the party would return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been taken by Mr. Aloysius Doran. Two days later—that is, on Wednesday last—there is a curt announcement that the wedding had taken place, and that the honeymoon would be passed at Lord Backwater’s place, near Petersfield. Those are all the notices which appeared before the disappearance of the bride.”

“Oh, yes, plenty. Then there is another notice in the Morning Post saying the wedding would be completely quiet. It would be at St. George’s, Hanover Square, with only half a dozen close friends invited. The party would then return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate that Mr. Aloysius Doran had rented. Two days later, on Wednesday last, a brief announcement said the wedding had taken place. It also said the honeymoon would be spent at Lord Backwater’s place, near Petersfield. Those are all the notices that appeared before the bride disappeared.”

“Before the what?” asked Holmes with a start.

“Before the what?” asked Holmes, startled.

“The vanishing of the lady.”

“The woman's disappearance.”

“When did she vanish, then?”

“When did she disappear, then?”

“At the wedding breakfast.”

“At the wedding reception.”

“Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite dramatic, in fact.”

“Really. This is more interesting than it seemed it would be. Quite dramatic, in fact.”

“Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common.”

“Yes, it struck me as a little unusual.”

“They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during the honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt as this. Pray let me have the details.”

“They often disappear before the ceremony, and sometimes during the honeymoon. But I can't remember anything happening quite this quickly. Please tell me the details.”

“I warn you that they are very incomplete.”

“I warn you, they are very incomplete.”

“Perhaps we may make them less so.”

“Perhaps we can make them less so.”

“Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a morning paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is headed, ‘Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding’:

“Such as they are, they appear in a single article in yesterday’s morning paper. I will read it to you. It is titled, ‘Strange Incident at a Fashionable Wedding’:

“‘The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which have taken place in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as shortly announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the previous morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently floating about. In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush the matter up, so much public attention has now been drawn to it that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what is a common subject for conversation.

“‘Lord Robert St. Simon’s family has been deeply shaken by the strange and painful events surrounding his wedding. As briefly announced in yesterday’s papers, the ceremony took place the morning before. But only now has it been possible to confirm the strange rumors that have been circulating so persistently. Friends have tried to keep the matter quiet. Even so, it has attracted so much public attention that there is no point in pretending to ignore it. It is now a common topic of conversation.

“‘The ceremony, which was performed at St. George’s, Hanover Square, was a very quiet one, no one being present save the father of the bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral, Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace and Lady Clara St. Simon (the younger brother and sister of the bridegroom), and Lady Alicia Whittington. The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been prepared. It appears that some little trouble was caused by a woman, whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavoured to force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only after a painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately entered the house before this unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast with the rest, when she complained of a sudden indisposition and retired to her room. Her prolonged absence having caused some comment, her father followed her, but learned from her maid that she had only come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One of the footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his mistress, believing her to be with the company. On ascertaining that his daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, in conjunction with the bridegroom, instantly put themselves in communication with the police, and very energetic inquiries are being made, which will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very singular business. Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing had transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There are rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or some other motive, she may have been concerned in the strange disappearance of the bride.’”

“‘The ceremony took place at St. George’s, Hanover Square, and was a very quiet affair. The only guests were the bride’s father, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral, Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace and Lady Clara St. Simon, the bridegroom’s younger brother and sister, and Lady Alicia Whittington. Afterwards, the whole party went to Mr. Aloysius Doran’s house at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been prepared. It appears that a woman, whose name is not known, caused some trouble. She tried to force her way into the house after the bridal party, claiming that she had a claim on Lord St. Simon. The butler and footman removed her, but only after a painful and prolonged scene. Fortunately, the bride had entered the house before this unpleasant interruption. She had sat down to breakfast with the others when she suddenly complained of feeling unwell and went to her room. Her long absence caused some comment, so her father went after her. But her maid told him that she had come to her room only briefly, grabbed a long coat and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One footman said he had seen a lady dressed that way leave the house. But he had not believed it could be his mistress, since he thought she was with the guests. When Mr. Aloysius Doran discovered that his daughter had disappeared, he and the bridegroom immediately contacted the police. The police are making very active inquiries, which will probably soon clear up this very strange affair. As of late last night, however, nothing had emerged about the missing lady’s whereabouts. There are rumours of foul play, and the police are said to have arrested the woman who caused the original disturbance. They believe that jealousy or some other motive may have led her to be involved in the bride’s strange disappearance.’”

“And is that all?”

“And is that all?”

“Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is a suggestive one.”

“Just one small item in another morning paper, but it may be a clue.”

“And it is—”

“And it is...”

“That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance, has actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole case is in your hands now—so far as it has been set forth in the public press.”

“Miss Flora Millar, the woman who caused the disturbance, has actually been arrested. It seems she was formerly a dancer at the Allegro and has known the bridegroom for some years. There are no further details. So now you know everything the newspapers have reported about the case.”

“And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would not have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell, Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness, if only as a check to my own memory.”

“And it seems to be a very interesting case. I would not have missed it for anything. But someone is ringing the bell, Watson. It is a few minutes after four, so I have no doubt this is our noble client. Don’t even think of leaving, Watson. I much prefer having a witness, if only to check my own memory.”

“Lord Robert St. Simon,” announced our page-boy, throwing open the door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face, high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about the mouth, and with the steady, well-opened eye of a man whose pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be obeyed. His manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance gave an undue impression of age, for he had a slight forward stoop and a little bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too, as he swept off his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled round the edges and thin upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to the verge of foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white waistcoat, yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-coloured gaiters. He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from left to right, and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his golden eyeglasses.

“Lord Robert St. Simon,” announced our page boy, throwing open the door. A gentleman entered. He had a pleasant, cultured face, a prominent nose, and a pale complexion. There was perhaps a hint of irritation around his mouth. His eyes were steady and wide open, like those of a man who had always enjoyed giving orders and being obeyed. His manner was brisk, yet his overall appearance made him seem older than he was. He stooped slightly forward and bent his knees a little as he walked. As he swept off his hat, with its tightly curled brim, we could see his hair. It was graying around the edges and thin on top. He was dressed so carefully that he was almost showy. He wore a high collar, a black frock coat, a white waistcoat, yellow gloves, patent leather shoes, and light-colored gaiters. He moved slowly into the room, turning his head from side to side. In his right hand, he swung the cord attached to his gold eyeglasses.

“Good-day, Lord St. Simon,” said Holmes, rising and bowing. “Pray take the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this matter over.”

“Good day, Lord St. Simon,” said Holmes, standing up and bowing. “Please take the wicker chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr. Watson. Move a little closer to the fire, and we can talk this matter over.”

“A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine, Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you have already managed several delicate cases of this sort, sir, though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of society.”

“This is very painful for me, as you can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes. I am deeply hurt. I understand that you have handled several delicate cases like this before, sir. Though I assume they were hardly from the same social class.”

“No, I am descending.”

“No, I am going down.”

“I beg pardon.”

“I’m sorry.”

“My last client of the sort was a king.”

“My last client of that kind was a king.”

“Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?”

“Oh, really! I had no idea. Which king?”

“The King of Scandinavia.”

“The King of Scandinavia.”

“What! Had he lost his wife?”

“What! Had his wife died?”

“You can understand,” said Holmes suavely, “that I extend to the affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to you in yours.”

“You understand,” Holmes said smoothly, “that I keep my other clients’ affairs just as private as I promise to keep yours.”

“Of course! Very right! very right! I’m sure I beg pardon. As to my own case, I am ready to give you any information which may assist you in forming an opinion.”

“Of course! Quite right! Quite right! I’m very sorry. As for my own case, I’m ready to give you any information that may help you form an opinion.”

“Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public prints, nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct—this article, for example, as to the disappearance of the bride.”

“Thank you. I have already learned everything in the newspapers, but nothing more. I assume I can take this article about the bride’s disappearance as accurate, for example.”

Lord St. Simon glanced over it. “Yes, it is correct, as far as it goes.”

Lord St. Simon glanced over it. “Yes, it's correct, as far as it goes.”

“But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most directly by questioning you.”

“But much more information is needed before anyone can offer an opinion. I think questioning you may be the most direct way to get the facts.”

“Pray do so.”

“Please do.”

“When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?”

“When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?”

“In San Francisco, a year ago.”

“In San Francisco, a year ago.”

“You were travelling in the States?”

“You were traveling in the States?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Did you become engaged then?”

“Did you get engaged then?”

“No.”

“No.”

“But you were on a friendly footing?”

“But you were on friendly terms?”

“I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was amused.”

“I enjoyed her company, and she could see that I enjoyed it.”

“Her father is very rich?”

“Her father is very rich?”

“He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope.”

“People say he is the richest man on the Pacific Coast.”

“And how did he make his money?”

“And how did he make his money?”

“In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold, invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds.”

“In mining. A few years ago, he had nothing. Then he found gold, invested the money, and quickly became wealthy.”

“Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady’s—your wife’s character?”

“Now, what is your own impression of the young lady’s character, your wife’s character?”

The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down into the fire. “You see, Mr. Holmes,” said he, “my wife was twenty before her father became a rich man. During that time she ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or mountains, so that her education has come from Nature rather than from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in England a tomboy, with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any sort of traditions. She is impetuous—volcanic, I was about to say. She is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given her the name which I have the honour to bear”—he gave a little stately cough—“had I not thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that anything dishonourable would be repugnant to her.”

The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down into the fire. “You see, Mr. Holmes,” he said, “my wife was twenty before her father became rich. Until then, she ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods and mountains. So Nature, rather than a schoolteacher, gave her an education. In England, we would call her a tomboy. She has a strong, wild, and free spirit, unconstrained by any kind of tradition. She is impulsive. I was about to say volcanic. She makes up her mind quickly and carries out her decisions without fear. On the other hand, I would not have given her the name I am honoured to bear if I had not believed her to be a noble woman at heart.” He gave a little dignified cough. “I believe she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and would find anything dishonourable repugnant.”

“Have you her photograph?”

“Do you have her photograph?”

“I brought this with me.” He opened a locket and showed us the full face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon.

“I brought this with me.” He opened a locket and showed us a full-face portrait of a very beautiful woman. It was not a photograph but a miniature painted on ivory. The artist had captured the full beauty of her glossy black hair, large dark eyes, and exquisite mouth. Holmes studied the portrait intently for a long time. Then he closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon.

“The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your acquaintance?”

“So the young woman came to London, and you got to know each other again?”

“Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I met her several times, became engaged to her, and have now married her.”

“Yes, her father brought her to London for the last social season. I met her several times, and we got engaged. We are now married.”

“She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?”

“As I understand it, she brought a large dowry?”

“A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family.”

“A reasonable dowry. No more than is usual in my family.”

“And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a fait accompli?”

“And of course, this remains yours, since the marriage is a done deal?”

“I really have made no inquiries on the subject.”

“I really haven't looked into the subject.”

“Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the wedding?”

“Of course not. Did you see Miss Doran the day before the wedding?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Was she in good spirits?”

“Was she in a good mood?”

“Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our future lives.”

“Never better. She kept talking about what we would do with our lives in the future.”

“Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the wedding?”

“Really! That’s very interesting. And on the morning of the wedding?”

“She was as bright as possible—at least until after the ceremony.”

“She was as cheerful as could be, at least until after the ceremony.”

“And did you observe any change in her then?”

“And did you notice any change in her then?”

“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.”

“Well, to tell the truth, that was the first time I had seen any sign that she had a slightly sharp temper. However, the incident was too trivial to recount and cannot possibly have any bearing on the case.”

“Pray let us have it, for all that.”

“Please, let us hear it anyway.”

“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.”

“Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we were walking toward the vestry. She was passing the front pew, and the bouquet fell into it. There was a brief delay, but the gentleman in the pew handed it back to her. It did not seem damaged by the fall. Yet when I mentioned it to her, she answered abruptly. In the carriage on our way home, she seemed absurdly upset over such a small thing.”

“Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of the general public were present, then?”

“Really? You say there was a man in the pew. So some members of the public were there?”

“Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is open.”

“Oh, yes. It’s impossible to keep them out when the church is open.”

“This gentleman was not one of your wife’s friends?”

“This man wasn’t 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.”

“No, no. I only call him a gentleman to be polite, but he looked quite ordinary. I hardly noticed what he looked like. But I really think we’re getting 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 re-entering her father’s house?”

“Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding less cheerful than when she had left for it. What did she do when she went back into her father’s house?”

“I saw her in conversation with her maid.”

“I saw her talking with her maid.”

“And who is her maid?”

“And who is her maid?”

“Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California with her.”

“Her name is Alice. She is American and came from California with her.”

“A confidential servant?”

“A trusted 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.”

“A little too much, I think. It seemed to me that her employer let her get away with too much. Still, of course, in America they see these things differently.”

“How long did she speak to this Alice?”

“How long did she talk to this Alice?”

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

“Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think about.”

“You did not overhear what they said?”

“Didn't you 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.”

“Lady St. Simon said something about ‘jumping a claim.’ She often used slang like that. 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?”

“American slang can be very expressive. What did your wife do after she finished talking to her maid?”

“She walked into the breakfast-room.”

“She walked into the breakfast room.”

“On your arm?”

“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.”

“No, alone. She was very independent in small matters like that. Then, after we had sat for about ten minutes, she hurriedly got up. She muttered an 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.”

“But as I understand it, the maid, Alice, testified that she went to her room. She covered her wedding dress with a long overcoat, 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.”

“Exactly. She was later seen walking into Hyde Park with Flora Millar. Flora is now in custody and had already caused a disturbance at Mr. Doran’s house that morning.”

“Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady, and your relations to her.”

“Ah, yes. I would like a few details about this young woman and your relationship with her.”

Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. “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 endeavoured 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.”

Lord St. Simon shrugged and raised his eyebrows. “We have been friendly for some years. I might say on a very friendly footing. She used to work at the Allegro. I have not treated her ungenerously, and she had no good reason to complain about me. But you know what women are, Mr. Holmes. Flora was a dear little thing, but extremely hot-headed and devoted to me. She wrote me dreadful letters when she heard I was about to marry. To tell the truth, I kept the wedding quiet because I feared a scandal in the church. She came to Mr. Doran’s door just after we returned. She tried to push her way in, shouting insults at my wife and even threatening her. But I had foreseen something like this and had two police officers there in plain clothes. They soon pushed her out again. She quieted down when she saw there was no point in making a scene.”

“Did your wife hear all this?”

“Did your wife hear all this?”

“No, thank goodness, she did not.”

“No, thank goodness, she didn’t.”

“And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?”

“And was she seen walking with this same woman afterward?”

“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.”

“Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade of Scotland Yard finds so serious. People think Flora lured my wife out and set some terrible trap for her.”

“Well, it is a possible supposition.”

“Well, that is possible.”

“You think so, too?”

“You think so, too?”

“I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon this as likely?”

“I didn't say it was probable. But you don't think this is likely, do you?”

“I do not think Flora would hurt a fly.”

“I don't 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?”

“Still, jealousy can change a person's character in strange ways. What is your own theory about what happened?”

“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 disturbance in my wife.”

“Well, really, I came to hear a theory, not to offer one. I have given you all the facts. But since you ask, I have thought of one possibility. The excitement of this affair, and her awareness of how greatly she had risen in society, may have caused my wife some slight nervous disturbance.”

“In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?”

“In short, that she had suddenly gone mad?”

“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, really, she has turned her back on so much that many have sought and failed to gain. I won’t say she has turned her back on me. But when I consider that, I can hardly explain her choice any other way.”

“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?”

“Well, that is certainly another possible explanation,” said Holmes, smiling. “Now, Lord St. Simon, I think I have nearly all the information I need. Were you sitting at the breakfast table where you could see out the window?”

“We could see the other side of the road and the Park.”

“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.”

“Right. Then I don’t think I need to keep you any longer. I’ll get in touch with you.”

“Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem,” said our client, rising.

“If you are lucky enough to solve this problem,” said our client, standing up.

“I have solved it.”

“I’ve solved it.”

“Eh? What was that?”

“Huh? What was that?”

“I say that I have solved it.”

“I’m telling you I’ve solved it.”

“Where, then, is my wife?”

“Then where is my wife?”

“That is a detail which I shall speedily supply.”

“I’ll provide that detail shortly.”

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.

Lord St. Simon shook his head. “I’m afraid it will take wiser minds than yours or mine,” he said. He bowed in a dignified, old-fashioned way and left.

“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 conclusions as to the case before our client came into the room.”

“It’s very kind of Lord St. Simon to consider my mind equal to his own,” said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. “I think I’ll have a whisky and soda and a cigar after all those questions. I had reached my conclusions about the case before our client came into the room.”

“My dear Holmes!”

“My dear Holmes!”

“I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as I remarked before, which were quite as prompt. My whole examination served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial evidence is occasionally very convincing, as when you find a trout in the milk, to quote Thoreau’s example.”

“I have notes on several similar cases, though none were quite as quick, as I said before. My full examination turned my suspicion into certainty. Circumstantial evidence can be very convincing. Take Thoreau’s example of finding a trout in the milk.”

“But I have heard all that you have heard.”

“But I've heard everything you've heard.”

“Without, however, the knowledge of pre-existing 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, hullo, here is Lestrade! Good-afternoon, Lestrade! You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard, and there are cigars in the box.”

“Without, however, the knowledge of earlier cases that serves me so well. There was a similar case in Aberdeen some years ago. Another case followed much the same pattern in 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 glass on the sideboard, and there are cigars in the box.”

The official detective was attired in a pea-jacket 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.

The official detective wore a pea coat and a neckcloth, which made him look distinctly nautical. He carried a black canvas bag. After a brief greeting, he sat down and lit the cigar he had been offered.

“What’s up, then?” asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. “You look dissatisfied.”

“What’s wrong, then?” asked Holmes with a twinkle in his eye. “You look unhappy.”

“And I feel dissatisfied. It is this infernal St. Simon marriage case. I can make neither head nor tail of the business.”

“And I feel frustrated. It’s this damned St. Simon marriage case. I can’t make any sense of it.”

“Really! You surprise me.”

“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.”

“Who ever heard of such a confusing case? Every clue seems to slip through my fingers. I have been working on it all day.”

“And very wet it seems to have made you,” said Holmes laying his hand upon the arm of the pea-jacket.

“And it seems to have made you very wet,” said Holmes, placing his hand on the sleeve of the pea coat.

“Yes, I have been dragging the Serpentine.”

“Yes, I have been searching the bottom of the Serpentine with a drag.”

“In Heaven’s name, what for?”

“For heaven’s sake, why?”

“In search of the body of Lady St. Simon.”

“Looking for Lady St. Simon’s body.”

Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.

Sherlock Holmes leaned back in his chair and laughed heartily.

“Have you dragged the basin of Trafalgar Square fountain?” he asked.

“Have you searched the bottom of the Trafalgar Square fountain?” he asked.

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Why? What do you mean?”

“Because you have just as good a chance of finding this lady in the one as in the other.”

“Because you have just as good a chance of finding this woman in one as in the other.”

Lestrade shot an angry glance at my companion. “I suppose you know all about it,” he snarled.

Lestrade glanced angrily 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.”

“Well, I’ve only just heard the facts, but I’ve made up my mind.”

“Oh, indeed! Then you think that the Serpentine plays no part in the matter?”

“Oh, really! So you think the Serpentine has nothing to do with it?”

“I think it very unlikely.”

“I think that's 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.”

“Then perhaps you can explain how we found this in it?” As he spoke, he opened his bag and emptied its contents onto the floor. Out came a watered silk wedding dress, white satin shoes, and a bride’s wreath and veil. They were all discolored and soaked with water. “There,” he said, placing a new wedding ring on top of the pile. “There’s a little puzzle for you to solve, Master Holmes.”

“Oh, indeed!” said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. “You dragged them from the Serpentine?”

“Oh, really!” said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. “You pulled them out of 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.”

“No. A park keeper found them floating near the shore. They were identified as her clothes. It seemed to me that if her clothes were there, her body would not be far away.”

“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?”

“By the same brilliant reasoning, every man’s body can be found near his wardrobe. And what exactly did you hope to discover through this?”

“At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance.”

“At some evidence linking Flora Millar to the disappearance.”

“I am afraid that you will find it difficult.”

“I’m afraid you’ll find it difficult.”

“Are you, indeed, now?” cried Lestrade with some bitterness. “I am afraid, Holmes, that you are not very practical with your deductions and your inferences. You have made two blunders in as many minutes. This dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar.”

“Is that so?” cried Lestrade bitterly. “I’m afraid your deductions and inferences aren’t very practical, Holmes. You’ve made two mistakes in two minutes. This dress does implicate Miss Flora Millar.”

“And how?”

“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.”

“There’s a pocket in the dress. In the pocket is a card case. In the card case is a note. And here is the very note.” He slapped it down on the table in front of him. “Listen to this: ‘You will see me when everything is ready. Come at once. F. H. M.’ All along, my theory has been that Flora Millar lured Lady St. Simon away. Flora, no doubt with help from others, was responsible for her disappearance. Here is the very note, signed with Flora’s initials. It was no doubt quietly slipped into Lady St. Simon’s hand at the door. It 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.

“Very good, Lestrade,” said Holmes, laughing. “You really are quite brilliant. Let me see it.” He picked up the paper without much interest, but it immediately caught his attention. He gave a little cry of satisfaction. “This is indeed important,” he said.

“Ha! you find it so?”

“Ha! Is that what you think?”

“Extremely so. I congratulate you warmly.”

“Very much so. My warmest congratulations.”

Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to look. “Why,” he shrieked, “you’re looking at the wrong side!”

Lestrade stood up triumphantly and bent his head to look. “Why,” he shrieked, “you’re looking at the wrong side!”

“On the contrary, this is the right side.”

“Actually, this is the right side.”

“The right side? You’re mad! Here is the note written in pencil over here.”

“The right side? You’re crazy! Here’s 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.”

“And over here is what looks like a piece of a hotel bill, which interests me greatly.”

“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.”

“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 of sherry, 8d.’ I don’t see anything 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.”

“Probably not. Even so, it is very important. The note is important too, or at least its 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.

“I’ve wasted enough time,” said Lestrade, standing up. “I believe in hard work, not sitting by the fire coming up with fancy theories. Goodbye, Mr. Holmes. We’ll see which of us solves the case first.” He gathered up the clothes, stuffed them into the bag, and headed 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.”

“Just one hint for you, Lestrade,” Holmes drawled before his rival disappeared. “I’ll tell you the real solution to the case. Lady St. Simon is a myth. There is no such person, and there never has been.”

Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me, tapped his forehead three times, shook his head solemnly, and hurried away.

Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then he turned to me and tapped his forehead three times. He shook his head seriously 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 I think, Watson, that I must leave you to your papers for a little.”

The man had barely closed the door behind him when Holmes got up and put on his overcoat. “There is something to what the fellow says about outdoor work,” he remarked. “So, Watson, I think I must leave you to your papers for a little while.”

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 pâté 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.

It was after five o’clock when Sherlock Holmes left me, but I had no time to feel lonely. Within an hour, a confectioner’s delivery man arrived with a very large flat box. He unpacked it with the help of a young man he had brought along. Soon, to my great astonishment, they began laying out a gourmet cold supper on our humble lodging-house mahogany table. There were four cold woodcock, a pheasant, a pâté de foie gras pie, and several old, cobweb-covered bottles. Once they had laid out all these luxuries, my two visitors vanished like the genies of the Arabian Nights. They explained only that the food and drink had been paid for and 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 his eye which made me think that he had not been disappointed in his conclusions.

Just before nine o’clock, Sherlock Holmes walked briskly into the room. His face was serious, but there was a light in his eyes. It made me think his conclusions had not disappointed him.

“They have laid the supper, then,” he said, rubbing his hands.

“They’ve set the table for supper, then,” he said, rubbing his hands.

“You seem to expect company. They have laid for five.”

“You seem to be expecting company. The table is set for five.”

“Yes, I fancy we may have some company dropping in,” said he. “I am surprised that Lord St. Simon has not already arrived. Ha! I fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs.”

“Yes, I think we may have some company soon,” he said. “I’m surprised Lord St. Simon hasn’t arrived yet. Ah! I think I hear his footsteps on the stairs now.”

It was indeed our visitor of the afternoon who came bustling in, dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and with a very perturbed expression upon his aristocratic features.

It was indeed our visitor from that afternoon who hurried in. He swung his glasses more vigorously than ever, and his aristocratic face looked very troubled.

“My messenger reached you, then?” asked Holmes.

“So my messenger reached you?” asked Holmes.

“Yes, and I confess that the contents startled me beyond measure. Have you good authority for what you say?”

“Yes, and I admit that the contents shocked me beyond measure. Do you have a reliable source for what you say?”

“The best possible.”

“The best possible.”

Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over his forehead.

Lord St. Simon sank into a chair and ran his hand over his forehead.

“What will the Duke say,” he murmured, “when he hears that one of the family has been subjected to such humiliation?”

“What will the Duke say,” he murmured, “when he hears that a member of the family has been humiliated like this?”

“It is the purest accident. I cannot allow that there is any humiliation.”

“It is pure chance. I don't see anything humiliating about it.”

“Ah, you look on these things from another standpoint.”

“Ah, you see these things from a different perspective.”

“I fail to see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the lady could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method of doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother, she had no one to advise her at such a crisis.”

“I don’t see that anyone is to blame. I can hardly see how the lady could have acted differently. Still, her abrupt way of doing it was certainly regrettable. Since she had no mother, she had no one to advise her in such a crisis.”

“It was a slight, sir, a public slight,” said Lord St. Simon, tapping his fingers upon the table.

“It was an insult, sir, a public insult,” said Lord St. Simon, tapping his fingers on the table.

“You must make allowance for this poor girl, placed in so unprecedented a position.”

“You must be understanding of this poor girl. She is in a situation unlike any other.”

“I will make no allowance. I am very angry indeed, and I have been shamefully used.”

“I will make no excuses. I am very angry, and I have been treated shamefully.”

“I think that I heard a ring,” said Holmes. “Yes, there are steps on the landing. If I cannot persuade you to take a lenient view of the matter, Lord St. Simon, I have brought an advocate here who may be more successful.” He opened the door and ushered in a lady and gentleman. “Lord St. Simon,” said he “allow me to introduce you to Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hay Moulton. The lady, I think, you have already met.”

“I think I heard the bell,” said Holmes. “Yes, there are footsteps on the landing. Lord St. Simon, if I cannot persuade you to be lenient, I have brought someone who may have more success.” He opened the door and showed a woman and a man inside. “Lord St. Simon,” he said, “allow me to introduce Mr. and Mrs. Francis Hay Moulton. I believe you have already met the lady.”

At the sight of these newcomers our client had sprung from his seat and stood very erect, with his eyes cast down and his hand thrust into the breast of his frock-coat, a picture of offended dignity. The lady had taken a quick step forward and had held out her hand to him, but he still refused to raise his eyes. It was as well for his resolution, perhaps, for her pleading face was one which it was hard to resist.

At the sight of the newcomers, our client jumped from his seat and stood very straight. He looked down and thrust his hand inside his frock coat, the picture of offended dignity. The lady had quickly stepped forward and held out her hand to him, but he still refused to look up. Perhaps that helped him hold firm, for the pleading look on her face was hard to resist.

“You’re angry, Robert,” said she. “Well, I guess you have every cause to be.”

“You’re angry, Robert,” she said. “Well, I guess you have every reason to be.”

“Pray make no apology to me,” said Lord St. Simon bitterly.

“Please don’t apologize to me,” said Lord St. Simon bitterly.

“Oh, yes, I know that I have treated you real bad and that I should have spoken to you before I went; but I was kind of rattled, and from the time when I saw Frank here again I just didn’t know what I was doing or saying. I only wonder I didn’t fall down and do a faint right there before the altar.”

“Oh, yes, I know I treated you really badly. I should have spoken to you before I went. But I was shaken, and from the moment I saw Frank here again, I didn’t know what I was doing or saying. I’m just surprised I didn’t fall down and faint right there at the altar.”

“Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave the room while you explain this matter?”

“Perhaps, Mrs. Moulton, you would like my friend and me to leave the room while you explain what happened?”

“If I may give an opinion,” remarked the strange gentleman, “we’ve had just a little too much secrecy over this business already. For my part, I should like all Europe and America to hear the rights of it.” He was a small, wiry, sunburnt man, clean-shaven, with a sharp face and alert manner.

“If I may offer an opinion,” said the strange gentleman, “we’ve already had a little too much secrecy about this affair. I’d like all of Europe and America to hear the truth about it.” He was a small, wiry, sunburned man with a clean-shaven, sharp face and an alert manner.

“Then I’ll tell our story right away,” said the lady. “Frank here and I met in ’84, in McQuire’s camp, near the Rockies, where Pa was working a claim. We were engaged to each other, Frank and I; but then one day father struck a rich pocket and made a pile, while poor Frank here had a claim that petered out and came to nothing. The richer Pa grew the poorer was Frank; so at last Pa wouldn’t hear of our engagement lasting any longer, and he took me away to ’Frisco. Frank wouldn’t throw up his hand, though; so he followed me there, and he saw me without Pa knowing anything about it. It would only have made him mad to know, so we just fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that he would go and make his pile, too, and never come back to claim me until he had as much as Pa. So then I promised to wait for him to the end of time and pledged myself not to marry anyone else while he lived. ‘Why shouldn’t we be married right away, then,’ said he, ‘and then I will feel sure of you; and I won’t claim to be your husband until I come back?’ Well, we talked it over, and he had fixed it all up so nicely, with a clergyman all ready in waiting, that we just did it right there; and then Frank went off to seek his fortune, and I went back to Pa.

“Then I’ll tell our story right away,” said the lady. “Frank and I met in 1884 at McQuire’s camp, near the Rockies. Pa was working a mining claim there. Frank and I were engaged, but then father struck a rich pocket of ore and made a fortune. Poor Frank’s claim ran out and came to nothing. The richer Pa grew, the poorer Frank became. At last, Pa wouldn’t hear of us staying engaged, and he took me away to ’Frisco. “Frank wouldn’t give up, though. He followed me there and saw me without Pa knowing anything about it. Knowing would only have made Pa mad, so we made our own plans. Frank said he would go and make his fortune too. He wouldn’t come back to claim me until he had as much as Pa. So I promised to wait for him forever and not marry anyone else while he lived. “‘Why shouldn’t we get married right away, then,’ he said. ‘Then I’ll be sure of you, and I won’t claim to be your husband until I come back.’ Well, we talked it over, and he had arranged everything so nicely. He even had a clergyman waiting, so we got married right there. Then Frank went off to seek his fortune, and I went back to Pa.

“The next I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana, and then he went prospecting in Arizona, and then I heard of him from New Mexico. After that came a long newspaper story about how a miners’ camp had been attacked by Apache Indians, and there was my Frank’s name among the killed. I fainted dead away, and I was very sick for months after. Pa thought I had a decline and took me to half the doctors in ’Frisco. Not a word of news came for a year and more, so that I never doubted that Frank was really dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to ’Frisco, and we came to London, and a marriage was arranged, and Pa was very pleased, but I felt all the time that no man on this earth would ever take the place in my heart that had been given to my poor Frank.

“The next I heard of Frank, he was in Montana. Then he went prospecting in Arizona, and after that I heard he was in New Mexico. Then a long newspaper story reported that Apache Indians had attacked a miners’ camp. My Frank’s name was among the dead. I fainted, and I was very sick for months afterward. Pa thought my health was failing and took me to half the doctors in ’Frisco. No news came for more than a year, so I never doubted that Frank was really dead. Then Lord St. Simon came to ’Frisco, and we came to London. A marriage was arranged, and Pa was very pleased. But I felt all along that no man on earth would ever take my poor Frank’s place in my heart.

“Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I’d have done my duty by him. We can’t command our love, but we can our actions. I went to the altar with him with the intention to make him just as good a wife as it was in me to be. But you may imagine what I felt when, just as I came to the altar rails, I glanced back and saw Frank standing and looking at me out of the first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first; but when I looked again there he was still, with a kind of question in his eyes, as if to ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him. I wonder I didn’t drop. I know that everything was turning round, and the words of the clergyman were just like the buzz of a bee in my ear. I didn’t know what to do. Should I stop the service and make a scene in the church? I glanced at him again, and he seemed to know what I was thinking, for he raised his finger to his lips to tell me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper, and I knew that he was writing me a note. As I passed his pew on the way out I dropped my bouquet over to him, and he slipped the note into my hand when he returned me the flowers. It was only a line asking me to join him when he made the sign to me to do so. Of course I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now to him, and I determined to do just whatever he might direct.

“Still, if I had married Lord St. Simon, of course I’d have done my duty by him. We can’t control whom we love, but we can control what we do. I went to the altar with him intending to be as good a wife as I could. But you can imagine how I felt when I reached the altar rails. I glanced back and saw Frank standing in the first pew, looking at me. At first I thought he was a ghost. But when I looked again, he was still there. There was a question in his eyes, as if he wanted to know whether I was glad or sorry to see him. I’m surprised I didn’t faint. I know everything was spinning, and the clergyman’s words sounded like a bee buzzing in my ear. I didn’t know what to do. Should I stop the service and make a scene in the church? I glanced at Frank again, and he seemed to know what I was thinking. He raised a finger to his lips to tell me to be quiet. Then I saw him scribble on a piece of paper, and I knew he was writing me a note. As I passed his pew on the way out, I dropped my bouquet to him. When he handed the flowers back, he slipped the note into my hand. It was just one line, asking me to join him when he gave me a sign. Of course, I never doubted for a moment that my first duty was now to him. So I decided to do whatever he told me.

“When I got back I told my maid, who had known him in California, and had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but to get a few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I ought to have spoken to Lord St. Simon, but it was dreadful hard before his mother and all those great people. I just made up my mind to run away and explain afterwards. I hadn’t been at the table ten minutes before I saw Frank out of the window at the other side of the road. He beckoned to me and then began walking into the Park. I slipped out, put on my things, and followed him. Some woman came talking something or other about Lord St. Simon to me—seemed to me from the little I heard as if he had a little secret of his own before marriage also—but I managed to get away from her and soon overtook Frank. We got into a cab together, and away we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square, and that was my true wedding after all those years of waiting. Frank had been a prisoner among the Apaches, had escaped, came on to ’Frisco, found that I had given him up for dead and had gone to England, followed me there, and had come upon me at last on the very morning of my second wedding.”

“When I got back, I told my maid. She had known him in California and had always been his friend. I ordered her to say nothing, but to pack a few things and get my coat ready. I know I should have spoken to Lord St. Simon, but it was terribly hard with his mother and all those important people there. I decided to run away and explain afterward. I had been at the table less than ten minutes when I saw Frank through the window, across the road. He signaled to me and then started walking into the Park. I slipped out, put on my things, and followed him. A woman came up and said something to me about Lord St. Simon. From the little I heard, it seemed he had a little secret of his own before the marriage too. But I managed to get away from her and soon caught up with Frank. We got into a cab together and drove off to rooms he had rented in Gordon Square. That was my true wedding, after all those years of waiting. Frank had been a prisoner among the Apaches. He had escaped and gone on to ’Frisco. There he found out that I had given him up for dead and gone to England. He followed me there and finally found me on the very morning of my second wedding.”

“I saw it in a paper,” explained the American. “It gave the name and the church but not where the lady lived.”

“I saw it in a newspaper,” the American explained. “It gave the name and the church, but not where the lady lived.”

“Then we had a talk as to what we should do, and Frank was all for openness, but I was so ashamed of it all that I felt as if I should like to vanish away and never see any of them again—just sending a line to Pa, perhaps, to show him that I was alive. It was awful to me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting round that breakfast-table and waiting for me to come back. So Frank took my wedding-clothes and things and made a bundle of them, so that I should not be traced, and dropped them away somewhere where no one could find them. It is likely that we should have gone on to Paris to-morrow, only that this good gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came round to us this evening, though how he found us is more than I can think, and he showed us very clearly and kindly that I was wrong and that Frank was right, and that we should be putting ourselves in the wrong if we were so secret. Then he offered to give us a chance of talking to Lord St. Simon alone, and so we came right away round to his rooms at once. Now, Robert, you have heard it all, and I am very sorry if I have given you pain, and I hope that you do not think very meanly of me.”

“Then we talked about what we should do. Frank wanted to be open about everything, but I was so ashamed of it all. I felt as if I wanted to disappear and never see any of them again. Perhaps I would just send Pa a note to let him know I was alive. It was awful to think of all those lords and ladies sitting around the breakfast table, waiting for me to come back. So Frank bundled up my wedding clothes and things, so that no one could trace me. He threw them away somewhere no one could find them. We would probably have gone on to Paris tomorrow, but this good gentleman, Mr. Holmes, came to see us this evening. How he found us, I cannot imagine. He showed us very clearly and kindly that I was wrong and Frank was right. He explained that we would be putting ourselves in the wrong by keeping everything so secret. Then he offered us a chance to talk to Lord St. Simon alone, so we came straight to his rooms. Now, Robert, you have heard everything. I am very sorry if I have hurt you, and I hope you do not think too badly of me.”

Lord St. Simon had by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but had listened with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this long narrative.

Lord St. Simon remained as rigid as ever. He listened to the long story with a frown and tightly pressed lips.

“Excuse me,” he said, “but it is not my custom to discuss my most intimate personal affairs in this public manner.”

“Excuse me,” he said, “but I don’t usually discuss my most private personal affairs so publicly.”

“Then you won’t forgive me? You won’t shake hands before I go?”

“Then you won’t forgive me? You won’t shake hands before I go?”

“Oh, certainly, if it would give you any pleasure.” He put out his hand and coldly grasped that which she extended to him.

“Oh, certainly, if it would please you.” He reached out and coldly took the hand she offered him.

“I had hoped,” suggested Holmes, “that you would have joined us in a friendly supper.”

“I had hoped,” said Holmes, “that you would join us for a friendly dinner.”

“I think that there you ask a little too much,” responded his Lordship. “I may be forced to acquiesce in these recent developments, but I can hardly be expected to make merry over them. I think that with your permission I will now wish you all a very good-night.” He included us all in a sweeping bow and stalked out of the room.

“I think you’re asking a little too much there,” replied his Lordship. “I may be forced to accept these recent developments, but I can hardly be expected to celebrate them. With your permission, I think I will now wish you all a very good night.” He gave us all a sweeping bow and stalked out of the room.

“Then I trust that you at least will honour me with your company,” said Sherlock Holmes. “It is always a joy to meet an American, Mr. Moulton, for I am one of those who believe that the folly of a monarch and the blundering of a minister in far-gone years will not prevent our children from being some day citizens of the same world-wide country under a flag which shall be a quartering of the Union Jack with the Stars and Stripes.”

“Then I hope you at least will do me the honor of joining me,” said Sherlock Holmes. “It is always a pleasure to meet an American, Mr. Moulton. I believe that a monarch’s folly and a minister’s blunders long ago will not prevent our children from someday becoming citizens of the same worldwide country. Its flag will combine the Union Jack and the Stars and Stripes in quarters.”

“The case has been an interesting one,” remarked Holmes when our visitors had left us, “because it serves to show very clearly how simple the explanation may be of an affair which at first sight seems to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could be more natural than the sequence of events as narrated by this lady, and nothing stranger than the result when viewed, for instance, by Mr. Lestrade of Scotland Yard.”

“The case has been interesting,” Holmes said when our visitors had left. “It shows very clearly how simple the explanation for an almost inexplicable affair may be. The sequence of events as the lady described it could not be more natural. Yet the result could not seem stranger to someone like Mr. Lestrade of Scotland Yard.”

“You were not yourself at fault at all, then?”

“So you weren't at fault at all?”

“From the first, two facts were very obvious to me, the one that the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony, the other that she had repented of it within a few minutes of returning home. Obviously something had occurred during the morning, then, to cause her to change her mind. What could that something be? She could not have spoken to anyone when she was out, for she had been in the company of the bridegroom. Had she seen someone, then? If she had, it must be someone from America because she had spent so short a time in this country that she could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep an influence over her that the mere sight of him would induce her to change her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived, by a process of exclusion, at the idea that she might have seen an American. Then who could this American be, and why should he possess so much influence over her? It might be a lover; it might be a husband. Her young womanhood had, I knew, been spent in rough scenes and under strange conditions. So far I had got before I ever heard Lord St. Simon’s narrative. When he told us of a man in a pew, of the change in the bride’s manner, of so transparent a device for obtaining a note as the dropping of a bouquet, of her resort to her confidential maid, and of her very significant allusion to claim-jumping—which in miners’ parlance means taking possession of that which another person has a prior claim to—the whole situation became absolutely clear. She had gone off with a man, and the man was either a lover or was a previous husband—the chances being in favour of the latter.”

“From the beginning, two facts were clear to me. The lady had been quite willing to go through with the wedding. But within minutes of returning home, she had changed her mind. Obviously, something had happened that morning to make her change her mind. What could it have been? She could not have spoken to anyone while she was out, because she had been with the bridegroom. Had she seen someone, then? If she had, it must have been someone from America. She had spent so little time in this country that hardly anyone here could have gained such influence over her. The mere sight of that person would not have led her to change her plans so completely. By ruling out other possibilities, we have arrived at the idea that she might have seen an American. Who could this American be, and why would he have so much influence over her? He might be a lover, or he might be a husband. I knew she had spent her early adult years in rough places and under strange conditions. That was as far as I had got before I heard Lord St. Simon’s account. He told us about a man in a pew and the change in the bride’s manner. He described her dropping her bouquet, a very obvious way to get a note. He told us that she turned to her trusted maid. He also mentioned her very significant reference to claim-jumping. In miners’ language, claim-jumping means taking possession of something to which another person has a prior claim. Once I heard all this, the whole situation became absolutely clear. She had gone off with a man. He was either a lover or a previous husband, and the latter was more likely.”

“And how in the world did you find them?”

“And how on earth did you find them?”

“It might have been difficult, but friend Lestrade held information in his hands the value of which he did not himself know. The initials were, of course, of the highest importance, but more valuable still was it to know that within a week he had settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels.”

“It might have been difficult, but our friend Lestrade had information without knowing its value. The initials were, of course, very important. But it was even more valuable to know that he had settled his bill at one of London’s most exclusive hotels within a week.”

“How did you deduce the select?”

“How did you figure out the select?”

“By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels. There are not many in London which charge at that rate. In the second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I learned by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton, an American gentleman, had left only the day before, and on looking over the entries against him, I came upon the very items which I had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square; so thither I travelled, and being fortunate enough to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to give them some paternal advice and to point out to them that it would be better in every way that they should make their position a little clearer both to the general public and to Lord St. Simon in particular. I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I made him keep the appointment.”

“From the high prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a glass of sherry pointed to a very expensive hotel. Not many hotels in London charge that much. At the second hotel I visited in Northumberland Avenue, I checked the register. I learned that Francis H. Moulton, an American gentleman, had left only the day before. I looked over the charges listed under his name and found the very items I had seen on the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwarded to 226 Gordon Square, so I went there. Luckily, I found the loving couple at home. I took the liberty of giving them some fatherly advice. I pointed out that it would be better in every way for them to make their situation clearer. They should make it clearer both to the general public and, in particular, to Lord St. Simon. I invited them to meet him here, and, as you see, I made him keep the appointment.”

“But with no very good result,” I remarked. “His conduct was certainly not very gracious.”

“But it didn't turn out very well,” I said. “His behavior certainly wasn't very gracious.”

“Ah, Watson,” said Holmes, smiling, “perhaps you would not be very gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing and wedding, you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and of fortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifully and thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves in the same position. Draw your chair up and hand me my violin, for the only problem we have still to solve is how to while away these bleak autumnal evenings.”

“Ah, Watson,” said Holmes, smiling, “perhaps you would not be very gracious either. Not if, after all the trouble of courting and marrying, you suddenly lost both your wife and your fortune. I think we may judge Lord St. Simon very kindly. We should thank our lucky stars that we are never likely to be in the same position. Pull up your chair and hand me my violin. The only problem we have left to solve is how to pass these bleak autumn evenings.”