The Copper Beeches Adventure

“To the man who loves art for its own sake,” remarked Sherlock Holmes, tossing aside the advertisement sheet of The Daily Telegraph, “it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth that in these little records of our cases which you have been good enough to draw up, and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have given prominence not so much to the many causes célèbres and sensational trials in which I have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been trivial in themselves, but which have given room for those faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made my special province.”

“To someone who loves art for its own sake,” remarked Sherlock Holmes, tossing aside the advertisement sheet of The Daily Telegraph, “the greatest pleasure often comes from its most minor and humble forms. I’m pleased to see that you’ve grasped this truth, Watson. You’ve been kind enough to write these little records of our cases. I must say that you’ve occasionally embellished them, too. But you’ve focused less on the many famous cases and sensational trials in which I’ve played a part. Instead, you’ve emphasized incidents that may have been trivial in themselves. These incidents gave me room to use my particular skills of deduction and logical synthesis.”

“And yet,” said I, smiling, “I cannot quite hold myself absolved from the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my records.”

“And yet,” I said, smiling, “I cannot entirely dismiss the charge that my accounts are sensational.”

“You have erred, perhaps,” he observed, taking up a glowing cinder with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which was wont to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than a meditative mood—“you have erred perhaps in attempting to put colour and life into each of your statements instead of confining yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about the thing.”

“Perhaps you have made a mistake,” he observed. He picked up a glowing cinder with the tongs and used it to light his long cherry-wood pipe. He usually chose this pipe instead of his clay one when he felt argumentative rather than thoughtful. “Perhaps you have made a mistake by trying to give each of your statements color and life. You should instead have confined yourself to recording the rigorous reasoning from cause to effect. That is really the only noteworthy feature of the matter.”

“It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter,” I remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my friend’s singular character.

“It seems to me that I have given you full credit in this matter,” I said somewhat coldly. My friend’s egotism repelled me. I had noticed more than once that it was a strong part of his unusual character.

“No, it is not selfishness or conceit,” said he, answering, as was his wont, my thoughts rather than my words. “If I claim full justice for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing—a thing beyond myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of tales.”

“No, it is not selfishness or vanity,” he said. As usual, he was answering my thoughts rather than my words. “If I demand full recognition for my art, it is because the art is impersonal. It exists beyond me. Crime is common. Logic is rare. So you should focus on the logic rather than the crime. You have reduced what should have been a course of lectures to a series of stories.”

It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal, for the table had not been cleared yet. Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings.

It was a cold morning in early spring. After breakfast, we sat on either side of a cheerful fire in our old room at Baker Street. Thick fog rolled between the rows of dull brown houses. The windows across the street loomed as dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow clouds. We had lit the gas, and its light shone on the white tablecloth and glimmered on the china and metal. The table had not yet been cleared. Sherlock Holmes had been silent all morning, constantly searching the advertisements in one newspaper after another. At last, he apparently gave up his search and emerged in a foul mood to lecture me about my shortcomings as a writer.

“At the same time,” he remarked after a pause, during which he had sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, “you can hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases which you have been so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, at all. The small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King of Bohemia, the singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the problem connected with the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble bachelor, were all matters which are outside the pale of the law. But in avoiding the sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the trivial.”

“At the same time,” he said after a pause. He had been puffing on his long pipe and gazing into the fire. “You can hardly be accused of sensationalism. A good number of the cases you have been kind enough to take an interest in do not involve crime at all, at least not in the legal sense. There was the small matter in which I tried to help the King of Bohemia, and the strange experience of Miss Mary Sutherland. Then there was the problem of the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble bachelor. All these matters were outside the scope of the law. But in avoiding the sensational, I fear you may have come close to the trivial.”

“The end may have been so,” I answered, “but the methods I hold to have been novel and of interest.”

“The ending may have been like that,” I replied, “but I think the methods were new and interesting.”

“Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, for the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from boarding-schools. I think that I have touched bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy. Read it!” He tossed a crumpled letter across to me.

“Oh, my dear fellow, what does the public care about the finer points of analysis and deduction? The great, unobservant public can hardly identify a weaver by his tooth or a typesetter by his left thumb! But if you are concerned with trivial matters, I cannot blame you. The days of great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. My own little practice seems to be turning into an agency for finding lost pencils and advising young ladies from boarding schools. I think I have finally hit bottom, though. The note I received this morning marks my lowest point, I imagine. Read it!” He tossed a crumpled letter across to me.

It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran thus:

It was dated the previous evening and sent from Montague Place. It read:

“VIOLET HUNTER.”

“VIOLET HUNTER.”

“Do you know the young lady?” I asked.

“Do you know the young woman?” I asked.

“Not I.”

“Not me.”

“It is half-past ten now.”

“It’s 10:30 now.”

“Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring.”

“Yes, and I'm sure that is her ring.”

“It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so in this case, also.”

“It may turn out to be more interesting than you think. You remember the affair of the blue carbuncle. It seemed like a mere whim at first, but it developed into a serious investigation. This case may turn out the same way.”

“Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question.”

“Well, let’s hope so. But our doubts will soon be settled. Unless I’m mistaken, here is the person we’re talking about.”

As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a plover’s egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had her own way to make in the world.

As he spoke, the door opened and a young woman entered the room. She was dressed simply but neatly. Her face was bright and alert, with freckles like a plover’s egg. Her brisk manner suggested a woman who had made her own way in the world.

“You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure,” said she, as my companion rose to greet her, “but I have had a very strange experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort from whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should do.”

“I’m sure you’ll forgive me for bothering you,” she said as my companion stood up to greet her. “But I’ve had a very strange experience. I have no parents or relatives of any kind to ask for advice. So I thought perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should do.”

“Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that I can to serve you.”

“Please take a seat, Miss Hunter. I’ll be happy to do anything I can to help you.”

I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and his finger-tips together, to listen to her story.

I could see that Holmes was impressed by his new client’s manner and speech. He studied her closely. Then he settled down to listen to her story, with his eyelids drooping and his fingertips pressed together.

“I have been a governess for five years,” said she, “in the family of Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his children over to America with him, so that I found myself without a situation. I advertised, and I answered advertisements, but without success. At last the little money which I had saved began to run short, and I was at my wit’s end as to what I should do.

“I worked as a governess for five years,” she said, “for Colonel Spence Munro’s family. But two months ago, the colonel received an appointment in Halifax, Nova Scotia. He took his children to America with him, so I was left without a job. I placed advertisements and answered them, but without success. At last, my small savings began to run out, and I was at my wit’s end about what to do.

“There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called Westaway’s, and there I used to call about once a week in order to see whether anything had turned up which might suit me. Westaway was the name of the founder of the business, but it is really managed by Miss Stoper. She sits in her own little office, and the ladies who are seeking employment wait in an anteroom, and are then shown in one by one, when she consults her ledgers and sees whether she has anything which would suit them.

“There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called Westaway’s. I used to visit about once a week to see whether any suitable work had come up. Westaway was the name of the founder, but Miss Stoper actually manages the business. She sits in her own little office, while the women looking for work wait in an adjoining room. They are then shown in one by one. Miss Stoper checks her records to see whether she has anything suitable for each of them.

“Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office as usual, but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A prodigiously stout man with a very smiling face and a great heavy chin which rolled down in fold upon fold over his throat sat at her elbow with a pair of glasses on his nose, looking very earnestly at the ladies who entered. As I came in he gave quite a jump in his chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper.

“Well, when I visited last week, I was shown into the little office as usual. But I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. An enormously fat man sat beside her. He had a very smiling face and a huge, heavy chin that fell in folds over his throat. He wore glasses and looked very intently at the ladies who entered. When I came in, he jumped in his chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper.

“‘That will do,’ said he; ‘I could not ask for anything better. Capital! capital!’ He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his hands together in the most genial fashion. He was such a comfortable-looking man that it was quite a pleasure to look at him.

“‘That will do,’ he said. ‘I couldn’t ask for anything better. Excellent! Excellent!’ He seemed very enthusiastic and rubbed his hands together warmly. He looked so comfortable that it was a pleasure to look at him.

“‘You are looking for a situation, miss?’ he asked.

“‘Are you looking for a job, miss?’ he asked.

“‘Yes, sir.’

“‘Yes, sir.’

“‘As governess?’

“‘As a governess?’

“‘Yes, sir.’

“‘Yes, sir.’

“‘And what salary do you ask?’

“‘And what salary are you asking for?’

“‘I had £ 4 a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.’

“‘I earned £4 a month in my last job with Colonel Spence Munro.’

“‘Oh, tut, tut! sweating—rank sweating!’ he cried, throwing his fat hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling passion. ‘How could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with such attractions and accomplishments?’

“‘Oh, come on! That’s exploitation, pure exploitation!’ he cried, throwing his fat hands into the air like a man boiling with rage. ‘How could anyone offer such a tiny sum to a lady with so much beauty and talent?’

“‘My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,’ said I. ‘A little French, a little German, music, and drawing—’

“‘My skills, sir, may be less than you imagine,’ I said. ‘A little French, a little German, music, and drawing...’

“‘Tut, tut!’ he cried. ‘This is all quite beside the question. The point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a lady? There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are not fitted for the rearing of a child who may some day play a considerable part in the history of the country. But if you have, why, then, how could any gentleman ask you to condescend to accept anything under the three figures? Your salary with me, madam, would commence at £ 100 a year.’

“‘Come, come!’ he cried. ‘That is all beside the point. The question is, do you or do you not carry yourself like a lady? That is the whole point. If you do not, you are not fit to raise a child who may someday play a major part in the country’s history. But if you do, how could any gentleman ask you to accept less than a three-figure salary? Your salary with me, madam, would start at £100 a year.’

“You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, such an offer seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, however, seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, opened a pocket-book and took out a note.

“You can imagine, Mr. Holmes, that such an offer seemed almost too good to be true to someone as poor as I was. But the gentleman perhaps saw the disbelief on my face. He opened a wallet and took out a banknote.

“‘It is also my custom,’ said he, smiling in the most pleasant fashion until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid the white creases of his face, ‘to advance to my young ladies half their salary beforehand, so that they may meet any little expenses of their journey and their wardrobe.’

“‘I also make a habit of paying my young ladies half their salary in advance,’ he said. He smiled so pleasantly that his eyes became two little shining slits among the pale creases of his face. ‘That way, they can cover any small expenses for their journey and clothes.’”

“It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so thoughtful a man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the advance was a great convenience, and yet there was something unnatural about the whole transaction which made me wish to know a little more before I quite committed myself.

“I felt I had never met such a fascinating and thoughtful man. Since I already owed money to the people I bought goods from, the advance was very helpful. Yet something about the whole transaction seemed unnatural. I wanted to know more before I fully committed myself.

“‘May I ask where you live, sir?’ said I.

“‘May I ask where you live, sir?’ I said.

“‘Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles on the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dear young lady, and the dearest old country-house.’

“‘Hampshire. A charming place in the countryside. The Copper Beeches is five miles beyond Winchester. It’s the loveliest countryside, my dear young lady, and the most delightful old country house.’

“‘And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.’

“‘And what would my duties be, sir? I would like to know.’

“‘One child—one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if you could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! smack! smack! Three gone before you could wink!’ He leaned back in his chair and laughed his eyes into his head again.

“‘One child, one dear little rascal, just six years old. Oh, if you could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! smack! smack! Three gone before you could blink!’ He leaned back in his chair and laughed until his eyes disappeared again.

“I was a little startled at the nature of the child’s amusement, but the father’s laughter made me think that perhaps he was joking.

“I was a little startled by the child’s idea of fun. But the father’s laughter made me think that perhaps he was joking.

“‘My sole duties, then,’ I asked, ‘are to take charge of a single child?’

“‘So my only duty,’ I asked, ‘is to look after one child?’

“‘No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,’ he cried. ‘Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to obey any little commands my wife might give, provided always that they were such commands as a lady might with propriety obey. You see no difficulty, heh?’

“‘No, no, not the only duty, my dear young lady,’ he cried. ‘Your duty would be to obey any small requests my wife might make. I’m sure your good sense would tell you that. But only if they were requests a lady could properly obey. You see no difficulty, eh?’”

“‘I should be happy to make myself useful.’

“‘I’d be happy to help.’

“‘Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you know—faddy but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress which we might give you, you would not object to our little whim. Heh?’

“‘Exactly. Take clothing, for example. We have our quirks, you know, but we're kind-hearted. If we asked you to wear a dress we gave you, you wouldn't object to our little whim. Eh?’

“‘No,’ said I, considerably astonished at his words.

“‘No,’ I said, quite surprised by his words.

“‘Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?’

“‘Or to sit here or there, as long as you wouldn’t mind?’

“‘Oh, no.’

“‘Oh, no.’

“‘Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?’

“‘Or to cut your hair very short before you come to us?’

“I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, my hair is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of chestnut. It has been considered artistic. I could not dream of sacrificing it in this offhand fashion.

“I could hardly believe my ears. As you can see, Mr. Holmes, my hair is quite thick and an unusual shade of chestnut. People have considered it artistic. I couldn’t dream of sacrificing it so casually.

“‘I am afraid that that is quite impossible,’ said I. He had been watching me eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a shadow pass over his face as I spoke.

“‘I’m afraid that’s quite impossible,’ I said. He had been watching me eagerly with his small eyes. As I spoke, I saw a shadow pass over his face.

“‘I am afraid that it is quite essential,’ said he. ‘It is a little fancy of my wife’s, and ladies’ fancies, you know, madam, ladies’ fancies must be consulted. And so you won’t cut your hair?’

“‘I’m afraid it’s absolutely necessary,’ he said. ‘It’s a little wish of my wife’s. And ladies’ wishes, you know, madam, ladies’ wishes must be respected. So you won’t cut your hair?’

“‘No, sir, I really could not,’ I answered firmly.

“‘No, sir, I really couldn't,’ I answered firmly.

“‘Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a pity, because in other respects you would really have done very nicely. In that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young ladies.’

“‘Ah, all right. That settles the matter. It’s a pity, because you would have done very well in every other way. In that case, Miss Stoper, I’d better look at a few more of your young ladies.’

“The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers without a word to either of us, but she glanced at me now with so much annoyance upon her face that I could not help suspecting that she had lost a handsome commission through my refusal.

“The manager had been busy with her papers all this time, without saying a word to either of us. But she now glanced at me with such annoyance that I suspected my refusal had cost her a generous commission.

“‘Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?’ she asked.

“‘Do you want your name to stay on the books?’ she asked.

“‘If you please, Miss Stoper.’

“‘Please, Miss Stoper.’

“‘Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the most excellent offers in this fashion,’ said she sharply. ‘You can hardly expect us to exert ourselves to find another such opening for you. Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.’ She struck a gong upon the table, and I was shown out by the page.

“‘Well, really, it seems rather pointless since you turn down such excellent offers like this,’ she said sharply. ‘You can hardly expect us to make the effort to find you another such opportunity. Goodbye, Miss Hunter.’ She struck a gong on the table, and the page showed me out.

“Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found little enough in the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the table, I began to ask myself whether I had not done a very foolish thing. After all, if these people had strange fads and expected obedience on the most extraordinary matters, they were at least ready to pay for their eccentricity. Very few governesses in England are getting £ 100 a year. Besides, what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved by wearing it short and perhaps I should be among the number. Next day I was inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day after I was sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go back to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open when I received this letter from the gentleman himself. I have it here and I will read it to you:

“Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings, I found very little food and two or three bills on the table. I began to wonder whether I had done a very foolish thing. After all, these people had strange whims and expected obedience in the most extraordinary matters. But at least they were willing to pay for their eccentricity. Very few governesses in England earn £100 a year. Besides, what use was my hair to me? Many people look better with short hair, and perhaps I would be one of them. The next day I was inclined to think I had made a mistake. By the day after that, I was sure of it. I had almost swallowed my pride enough to return to the agency and ask whether the position was still open. Then I received this letter from the gentleman himself. I have it here, and I will read it to you:

“‘JEPHRO RUCASTLE.’

“‘JEPHRO RUCASTLE.’

“That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and my mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, that before taking the final step I should like to submit the whole matter to your consideration.”

“That is the letter I just received, Mr. Holmes, and I have decided to accept it. But before taking the final step, I wanted to ask you to consider the whole matter.”

“Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the question,” said Holmes, smiling.

“Well, Miss Hunter, if you’ve made up your mind, that settles it,” said Holmes, smiling.

“But you would not advise me to refuse?”

“But you wouldn’t advise me to refuse?”

“I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a sister of mine apply for.”

“I admit, I wouldn’t want a sister of mine to apply for this job.”

“What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?”

“What does it all mean, Mr. Holmes?”

“Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed some opinion?”

“Ah, I have no information. I can’t say. Perhaps you’ve formed an opinion yourself?”

“Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr. Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not possible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that he humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an outbreak?”

“Well, I think there is only one possible solution. Mr. Rucastle seemed like a very kind, good-natured man. Could his wife be mentally ill? Perhaps he wants to keep it quiet because he fears she might be taken to an asylum. Could he be indulging her wishes in every way to prevent an outburst?”

“That is a possible solution—in fact, as matters stand, it is the most probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nice household for a young lady.”

“That is a possible solution. In fact, given what we know, it is the most likely one. But in any case, it doesn't seem like a pleasant household for a young woman.”

“But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!”

“But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!”

“Well, yes, of course the pay is good—too good. That is what makes me uneasy. Why should they give you £ 120 a year, when they could have their pick for £ 40? There must be some strong reason behind.”

“Well, yes, of course the pay is good. Too good. That is what worries me. Why would they pay you £120 a year when they could choose anyone they wanted for £40? There must be a strong reason behind it.”

“I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so much stronger if I felt that you were at the back of me.”

“I thought that if I told you what had happened, you would understand if I needed your help later. I would feel so much stronger if I knew you were supporting me.”

“Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that your little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my way for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some of the features. If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger—”

“Oh, you may take that feeling with you. I assure you, your little problem promises to be the most interesting I’ve encountered in months. Some of its features are distinctly unusual. If you find yourself uncertain or in danger...”

“Danger! What danger do you foresee?”

“Danger! What danger do you see coming?”

Holmes shook his head gravely. “It would cease to be a danger if we could define it,” said he. “But at any time, day or night, a telegram would bring me down to your help.”

Holmes shook his head gravely. “It would no longer be a danger if we could define it,” he said. “But send me a telegram at any time, day or night, and I will come to help you.”

“That is enough.” She rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety all swept from her face. “I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in my mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor hair to-night, and start for Winchester to-morrow.” With a few grateful words to Holmes she bade us both good-night and bustled off upon her way.

“That is enough.” She rose briskly from her chair, all the anxiety gone from her face. “I can go down to Hampshire now with my mind completely at ease. I’ll write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor hair tonight, and leave for Winchester tomorrow.” She thanked Holmes, wished us both good night, and hurried off.

“At least,” said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending the stairs, “she seems to be a young lady who is very well able to take care of herself.”

“At least,” I said as we heard her quick, firm steps going down the stairs, “she seems quite able to take care of herself.”

“And she would need to be,” said Holmes gravely. “I am much mistaken if we do not hear from her before many days are past.”

“And she would need to be,” said Holmes gravely. “I expect we will hear from her within a few days.”

It was not very long before my friend’s prediction was fulfilled. A fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of human experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat frequently for half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an abstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of his hand when I mentioned it. “Data! data! data!” he cried impatiently. “I can’t make bricks without clay.” And yet he would always wind up by muttering that no sister of his should ever have accepted such a situation.

It was not long before my friend’s prediction came true. Two weeks passed, and I often found myself thinking about her. I wondered what strange corner of human experience this lonely woman had wandered into. The unusually high salary, the strange conditions, and the easy duties all pointed to something abnormal. But I could not tell whether it was a whim or a plot, or whether the man was a philanthropist or a villain. As for Holmes, I often noticed him sitting for half an hour at a time, frowning and lost in thought. But when I mentioned the matter, he dismissed it with a wave of his hand. “Data! data! data!” he cried impatiently. “I can’t make bricks without clay.” And yet he always ended by muttering that no sister of his should ever have accepted such a job.

The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of those all-night chemical researches which he frequently indulged in, when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night and find him in the same position when I came down to breakfast in the morning. He opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at the message, threw it across to me.

The telegram finally arrived late one night. I was thinking of going to bed, and Holmes was settling down for one of his frequent all-night chemistry experiments. I would often leave him bent over a retort and a test tube at night, then find him in the same position when I came down to breakfast. He opened the yellow envelope, glanced at the message, and tossed it across to me.

“Just look up the trains in Bradshaw,” said he, and turned back to his chemical studies.

“Just look up the trains in Bradshaw,” he said, and returned to his chemistry studies.

The summons was a brief and urgent one.

The message was brief and urgent.

“HUNTER.”

“HUNTER.”

“Will you come with me?” asked Holmes, glancing up.

“Will you come with me?” asked Holmes, looking up.

“I should wish to.”

“I would like to.”

“Just look it up, then.”

“Just look it up, then.”

“There is a train at half-past nine,” said I, glancing over my Bradshaw. “It is due at Winchester at 11:30.”

“There’s a train at 9:30,” I said, glancing at my Bradshaw railway timetable. “It arrives in Winchester at 11:30.”

“That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the morning.”

“That will work very nicely. Perhaps I should put off analyzing the acetones, since we may need to be at our best tomorrow morning.”

By eleven o’clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a man’s energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage.

By eleven o’clock the next day, we were well on our way to the old English capital. Holmes had been absorbed in the morning papers throughout the journey. But after we crossed the Hampshire border, he put them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day. Small, fluffy white clouds drifted from west to east across a light blue sky. The sun was shining brightly, yet there was an invigorating chill in the air that sharpened a man’s energy. Across the countryside, all the way to the rolling hills around Aldershot, little red and grey farm roofs peeked through the light green of the new leaves.

“Are they not fresh and beautiful?” I cried with all the enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street.

“Aren’t they fresh and beautiful?” I cried, with all the enthusiasm of a man just out of the Baker Street fog.

But Holmes shook his head gravely.

But Holmes shook his head seriously.

“Do you know, Watson,” said he, “that it is one of the curses of a mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there.”

“Do you know, Watson,” he said, “that having a mind like mine is a curse? I have to look at everything in terms of my own special subject. You look at these scattered houses and are struck by their beauty. I look at them and think only of how isolated they are. I feel how easily crimes may be committed there without punishment.”

“Good heavens!” I cried. “Who would associate crime with these dear old homesteads?”

“My goodness!” I cried. “Who would associate crime with these lovely old homes?”

“They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside.”

“They always fill me with a certain horror. Watson, my experience has taught me something. Even the worst and most vile alleys in London have no more dreadful a record of sin than the beautiful, smiling countryside.”

“You horrify me!”

“You horrify me!”

“But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard’s blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she is not personally threatened.”

“But the reason is obvious. In town, public opinion can do what the law cannot. Even in the vilest street, neighbors feel sympathy and outrage when a tortured child screams or a drunkard strikes someone. And the machinery of justice is always close at hand. A single complaint can set it in motion, and the accused is soon brought to court. “But look at these isolated houses, each surrounded by its own fields. Most are filled with poor, uneducated people who know little about the law. Think of the acts of hellish cruelty and hidden wickedness that may go on in such places year after year. No one else would know. If the lady asking us for help had gone to live in Winchester, I would never have feared for her. The five miles of countryside are what make her situation dangerous. Still, it is clear that she is not personally threatened.”

“No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away.”

“No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us, she can get away.”

“Quite so. She has her freedom.”

“Exactly. She is free.”

“What can be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?”

“What can be wrong, then? Can't you suggest an explanation?”

“I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct can only be determined by the fresh information which we shall no doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell.”

“I have come up with seven possible explanations. Each fits the facts as we know them. But only new information can tell us which one is right. No doubt we will find that information waiting for us. Well, there is the cathedral tower, and we will soon hear all that Miss Hunter has to tell us.”

The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance from the station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us. She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the table.

The Black Swan is a well-regarded inn on High Street, not far from the station. There we found the young lady waiting for us. She had reserved a sitting room, and our lunch was waiting on the table.

“I am so delighted that you have come,” she said earnestly. “It is so very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do. Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me.”

“I’m so glad you came,” she said earnestly. “It’s so kind of you both. But I really don’t know what I would do. Your advice will be invaluable to me.”

“Pray tell us what has happened to you.”

“Please tell us what happened to you.”

“I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. Rucastle to be back before three. I got his leave to come into town this morning, though he little knew for what purpose.”

“I will, and I must be quick. I promised Mr. Rucastle I would be back before three. He gave me permission to come into town this morning, though he had little idea why I wanted to come.”

“Let us have everything in its due order.” Holmes thrust his long thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen.

“Let's hear everything in order.” Holmes stretched his long, thin legs toward the fire and settled down to listen.

“In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fair to them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in my mind about them.”

“First, I should say that, on the whole, Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle have not actually mistreated me. It is only fair to them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I feel uneasy about them.”

“What can you not understand?”

“What don’t you understand?”

“Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just as it occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and drove me in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully situated, but it is not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square block of a house, whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp and bad weather. There are grounds round it, woods on three sides, and on the fourth a field which slopes down to the Southampton high road, which curves past about a hundred yards from the front door. This ground in front belongs to the house, but the woods all round are part of Lord Southerton’s preserves. A clump of copper beeches immediately in front of the hall door has given its name to the place.

“Their reasons for what they did. But I’ll tell you everything just as it happened. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here. He drove me in his horse-drawn cart to the Copper Beeches. As he said, it is in a beautiful setting, but the house itself is not beautiful. It is a large, square building, whitewashed but stained and streaked by damp and bad weather. There are grounds around it, with woods on three sides. On the fourth side, a field slopes down to the Southampton main road. The road curves past about a hundred yards from the front door. The field in front belongs to the house, but the surrounding woods are part of Lord Southerton’s private hunting grounds. A group of copper beeches just in front of the main entrance gave the place its name.

“I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. There was no truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be probable in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I found her to be a silent, pale-faced woman, much younger than her husband, not more than thirty, I should think, while he can hardly be less than forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that they have been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I can quite imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with her father’s young wife.

“My employer drove me over. He was as friendly as ever, and that evening he introduced me to his wife and child. Mr. Holmes, the theory that seemed likely to us in your rooms at Baker Street was not true. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I found her quiet and pale, and much younger than her husband. I would guess she is no more than thirty, while he can hardly be less than forty-five. From their conversation, I gathered that they have been married about seven years. He was a widower, and his only child by his first wife was the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me privately that she left because she had an unreasonable dislike of her stepmother. Since the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I can quite imagine how uncomfortable she must have felt with her father’s young wife.

“Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes wandered continually from one to the other, noting every little want and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would often be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face. More than once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition of her child which weighed upon her mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has little to do with my story.”

“Mrs. Rucastle seemed as dull in mind as she was in appearance. She made neither a favorable nor an unfavorable impression on me. She was a nobody. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted to both her husband and her little son. Her light gray eyes moved constantly between them, watching for every little need and anticipating it if possible. He was kind to her too, in his blunt, boisterous way, and overall they seemed a happy couple. Yet the woman had some secret sorrow. She would often be lost in thought, with the saddest look on her face. More than once, I caught her in tears. I sometimes thought her child’s nature weighed on her mind, for I have never met such a spoiled, ill-tempered little creature. He is small for his age, with a head much too large for his body. His whole life seems to alternate between savage fits of anger and gloomy spells of sulking. Causing pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his only idea of fun. He shows a remarkable talent for planning how to catch mice, small birds, and insects. But I would rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes. In any case, he has little to do with my story.”

“I am glad of all details,” remarked my friend, “whether they seem to you to be relevant or not.”

“I welcome all details,” my friend said, “whether you think they are relevant or not.”

“I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife. Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman with a sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one corner of the building.

“I’ll try not to miss anything important. The one unpleasant thing about the house struck me at once: the servants’ appearance and behavior. There are only two servants, a man and his wife. The man’s name is Toller. He is rough and uncouth, with graying hair and whiskers, and he always smells of alcohol. Since I came to live with them, he has been completely drunk twice. Yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no notice. Toller’s wife is very tall and strong, with a sour face. She is as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less friendly. They are a most unpleasant couple. But fortunately, I spend most of my time in the nursery and my own room. The two rooms are next to each other in one corner of the building.

“For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and whispered something to her husband.

“For two days after I arrived at the Copper Beeches, my life was very quiet. On the third day, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and whispered something to her husband.

“‘Oh, yes,’ said he, turning to me, ‘we are very much obliged to you, Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and if you would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely obliged.’

“‘Oh, yes,’ he said, turning to me, ‘we are very grateful to you, Miss Hunter, for indulging us by cutting your hair. I assure you, it has not diminished your appearance in the slightest. Now we shall see how the electric-blue dress looks on you. You will find it laid out on the bed in your room. If you would put it on, we would both be extremely grateful.’

“The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not have been a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which seemed quite exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for me in the drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching along the entire front of the house, with three long windows reaching down to the floor. A chair had been placed close to the central window, with its back turned towards it. In this I was asked to sit, and then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories that I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I laughed until I was quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of humour, never so much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap, and a sad, anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr. Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of the day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in the nursery.

“The dress waiting for me was an unusual shade of blue. It was made of excellent material, a sort of beige, but had clearly been worn before. It could not have fit better if it had been made to my measurements. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were delighted with how it looked, and their enthusiasm seemed quite exaggerated. They were waiting for me in the drawing room. It was a very large room that stretched along the entire front of the house. Three long windows reached down to the floor. A chair had been placed close to the middle window, with its back to it. I was asked to sit in the chair. Then Mr. Rucastle walked up and down on the other side of the room, telling me some of the funniest stories I have ever heard. You cannot imagine how funny he was. I laughed until I was quite tired. Mrs. Rucastle, however, clearly had no sense of humor. She never even smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap and a sad, anxious look on her face. After about an hour, Mr. Rucastle suddenly said it was time to begin the day’s duties. He said I could change my dress and go to little Edward in the nursery.

“Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny stories of which my employer had an immense répertoire, and which he told inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten minutes, beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my dress.

“Two days later, the same routine was repeated under exactly the same circumstances. Again I changed my dress and sat in the window. Again I laughed heartily at the funny stories my employer told. He had an immense repertoire of them and told them better than anyone else. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel and moved my chair slightly to the side so my shadow wouldn't fall on the page. He asked me to read aloud to him. I started in the middle of a chapter and read for about ten minutes. Then, suddenly, in the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to stop and change my dress.

“You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the window, so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the glass in my handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able with a little management to see all that there was behind me. I confess that I was disappointed. There was nothing. At least that was my first impression. At the second glance, however, I perceived that there was a man standing in the Southampton Road, a small bearded man in a grey suit, who seemed to be looking in my direction. The road is an important highway, and there are usually people there. This man, however, was leaning against the railings which bordered our field and was looking earnestly up. I lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle to find her eyes fixed upon me with a most searching gaze. She said nothing, but I am convinced that she had divined that I had a mirror in my hand and had seen what was behind me. She rose at once.

“You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became about what this extraordinary performance could mean. I noticed that they always took care to turn my face away from the window. This made me desperate to see what was happening behind my back. At first, it seemed impossible, but I soon thought of a way. My hand mirror had broken, and I had a sudden idea. I hid a piece of the glass in my handkerchief. The next time, while I was laughing, I raised my handkerchief to my eyes. With a little effort, I could see everything behind me. I must admit I was disappointed. There was nothing. At least, that was my first impression. But when I looked again, I saw a man standing in Southampton Road. He was a small, bearded man in a grey suit, and he seemed to be looking in my direction. The road is a major highway, and there are usually people there. But this man was leaning against the railings bordering our field and looking up intently. I lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle. Her eyes were fixed on me in a searching stare. She said nothing, but I am sure she had guessed that I had a mirror in my hand and had seen what was behind me. She stood up at once.

“‘Jephro,’ said she, ‘there is an impertinent fellow upon the road there who stares up at Miss Hunter.’

“‘Jephro,’ she said, ‘there is a rude man on the road staring up at Miss Hunter.’

“‘No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?’ he asked.

“‘Not a friend of yours, Miss Hunter?’ he asked.

“‘No, I know no one in these parts.’

“‘No, I don't know anyone around here.’

“‘Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to him to go away.’

“‘Oh, my! How rude! Please turn around and signal for him to go away.’

“‘Surely it would be better to take no notice.’

“‘Surely it would be better to ignore it.’

“‘No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn round and wave him away like that.’

“‘No, no, he would keep hanging around here. Please turn around and wave him away like that.’

“I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew down the blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat again in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man in the road.”

“I did as I was told, and at the same moment Mrs. Rucastle pulled down the blind. That was a week ago. Since then, I have not sat in the window, worn the blue dress, or seen the man in the road.”

“Pray continue,” said Holmes. “Your narrative promises to be a most interesting one.”

“Please continue,” said Holmes. “Your story sounds very interesting.”

“You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to be little relation between the different incidents of which I speak. On the very first day that I was at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to a small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door. As we approached it I heard the sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a large animal moving about.

“I’m afraid you may find my account rather disjointed. The different incidents I describe may have little connection to one another. On my very first day at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to a small outbuilding near the kitchen door. As we approached it, I heard the sharp rattling of a chain and what sounded like a large animal moving around.

“‘Look in here!’ said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two planks. ‘Is he not a beauty?’

“‘Look in here!’ said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a gap between two planks. ‘Isn't he a beauty?’

“I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a vague figure huddled up in the darkness.

“I looked through and saw two glowing eyes and a shadowy figure huddled in the darkness.

“‘Don’t be frightened,’ said my employer, laughing at the start which I had given. ‘It’s only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do anything with him. We feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness’ sake don’t you ever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold at night, for it’s as much as your life is worth.’

“‘Don’t be frightened,’ said my employer, laughing at how I had jumped. ‘It’s only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but old Toller, my groom, is really the only man who can handle him. We feed him once a day, and not much even then, so he is always ready to attack. Toller lets him loose every night. God help any trespasser he sinks his teeth into. For goodness’ sake, never step outside at night for any reason. It could cost you your life.’

“The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look out of my bedroom window about two o’clock in the morning. It was a beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house was silvered over and almost as bright as day. I was standing, rapt in the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that something was moving under the shadow of the copper beeches. As it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting bones. It walked slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the other side. That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not think that any burglar could have done.

“The warning was serious. Two nights later, I happened to look out of my bedroom window at about two in the morning. It was a beautiful moonlit night. The lawn in front of the house was silver in the moonlight and almost as bright as day. I stood there, absorbed in the peaceful beauty of the scene. Then I noticed something moving in the shadow of the copper beeches. As it came into the moonlight, I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large as a calf, with a tawny coat, hanging jowls, a black muzzle, and huge protruding bones. It walked slowly across the lawn and disappeared into the shadow on the other side. That dreadful guard sent a chill through me that I do not think any burglar could have caused.

“And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as you know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great coil at the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the child was in bed, I began to amuse myself by examining the furniture of my room and by rearranging my own little things. There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the two upper ones empty and open, the lower one locked. I had filled the first two with my linen, and as I had still much to pack away I was naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third drawer. It struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere oversight, so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The very first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never guess what it was. It was my coil of hair.

“And now I have a very strange experience to tell you about. As you know, I had cut off my hair in London. I had put it in a large coil at the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the child was in bed, I looked over the furniture in my room for amusement. I also rearranged my few belongings. There was an old chest of drawers in the room. The top two drawers were empty and open, but the bottom one was locked. I had filled the top two with my linens, and I still had much to put away. So naturally, I was annoyed that I could not use the third drawer. I thought it might have been locked by mistake, so I took out my keys and tried to open it. The very first key fit perfectly, and I pulled the drawer open. There was only one thing in it, but I am sure you would never guess what it was. It was my coil of hair.

“I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, and the same thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing obtruded itself upon me. How could my hair have been locked in the drawer? With trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the contents, and drew from the bottom my own hair. I laid the two tresses together, and I assure you that they were identical. Was it not extraordinary? Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant. I returned the strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the matter to the Rucastles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer which they had locked.

“I picked it up and examined it. It was the same unusual color and the same thickness. But then I realized how impossible it was. How could my hair have been locked in the drawer? With trembling hands, I opened my trunk, emptied it, and took my own hair from the bottom. I laid the two locks side by side, and I assure you they were identical. Wasn’t it extraordinary? No matter how hard I thought about it, I couldn’t make sense of it. I put the strange hair back in the drawer. I said nothing to the Rucastles because I felt I had done wrong by opening a drawer they had locked.

“I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, and I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. There was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all. A door which faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers opened into this suite, but it was invariably locked. One day, however, as I ascended the stair, I met Mr. Rucastle coming out through this door, his keys in his hand, and a look on his face which made him a very different person to the round, jovial man to whom I was accustomed. His cheeks were red, his brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins stood out at his temples with passion. He locked the door and hurried past me without a word or a look.

“I am naturally observant, as you may have noticed, Mr. Holmes. I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. There was one wing, however, that appeared to be completely unoccupied. A door facing the entrance to the Tollers’ quarters opened into this wing, but it was always locked. One day, however, as I went up the stairs, I met Mr. Rucastle coming out of that door. He had his keys in his hand, and the look on his face made him seem very different from the round, cheerful man I was used to. His cheeks were red, his forehead was wrinkled with anger, and the veins stood out at his temples. He locked the door and hurried past me without a word or a glance.

“This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the grounds with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I could see the windows of this part of the house. There were four of them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the fourth was shuttered up. They were evidently all deserted. As I strolled up and down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr. Rucastle came out to me, looking as merry and jovial as ever.

“This made me curious. So, when I went for a walk in the grounds with the child in my care, I walked around to the side where I could see the windows in that part of the house. There were four windows in a row. Three were simply dirty, while the fourth was shuttered. The rooms behind them were clearly all deserted. As I walked up and down, glancing at the windows now and then, Mr. Rucastle came out to me. He looked as cheerful and jovial as ever.

“‘Ah!’ said he, ‘you must not think me rude if I passed you without a word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters.’

“‘Ah!’ he said, ‘please don’t think me rude for passing you without a word, my dear young lady. I was distracted by business matters.’

“I assured him that I was not offended. ‘By the way,’ said I, ‘you seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them has the shutters up.’

“I told him I wasn’t offended. ‘By the way,’ I said, ‘you seem to have quite a few spare rooms upstairs, and one of them has its shutters closed.’

“He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my remark.

“He looked surprised and, I thought, a little startled by my remark.

“‘Photography is one of my hobbies,’ said he. ‘I have made my dark room up there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we have come upon. Who would have believed it? Who would have ever believed it?’ He spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in his eyes as he looked at me. I read suspicion there and annoyance, but no jest.

“‘Photography is one of my hobbies,’ he said. ‘I’ve set up my darkroom up there. But my goodness! What an observant young lady we’ve come across. Who would have believed it? Who would ever have believed it?’ He spoke jokingly, but there was no humor in his eyes as he looked at me. I saw suspicion and annoyance there, but no humor.

“Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there was something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, I was all on fire to go over them. It was not mere curiosity, though I have my share of that. It was more a feeling of duty—a feeling that some good might come from my penetrating to this place. They talk of woman’s instinct; perhaps it was woman’s instinct which gave me that feeling. At any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the lookout for any chance to pass the forbidden door.

“Well, Mr. Holmes, as soon as I realized there was something about those rooms I was not supposed to know, I was eager to explore them. It was not just curiosity, though I have my share of that. It was more a sense of duty. I felt that some good might come from my getting into those rooms. People talk about women’s instinct. Perhaps it was women’s instinct that gave me that feeling. Whatever the reason, I had that feeling, and I watched keenly for any chance to go through the forbidden door.

“It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that, besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to do in these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large black linen bag with him through the door. Recently he has been drinking hard, and yesterday evening he was very drunk; and when I came upstairs there was the key in the door. I have no doubt at all that he had left it there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both downstairs, and the child was with them, so that I had an admirable opportunity. I turned the key gently in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through.

“It was only yesterday that I got the chance. Besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife have something to do in these deserted rooms. I once saw Toller carrying a large black linen bag through the door. Recently, he has been drinking heavily. He was very drunk yesterday evening, and when I came upstairs, the key was in the door. I have no doubt that he had left it there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both downstairs with the child, so I had an excellent opportunity. I gently turned the key in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through.

“There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted, which turned at a right angle at the farther end. Round this corner were three doors in a line, the first and third of which were open. They each led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two windows in the one and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through them. The centre door was closed, and across the outside of it had been fastened one of the broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a ring in the wall, and fastened at the other with stout cord. The door itself was locked as well, and the key was not there. This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the shuttered window outside, and yet I could see by the glimmer from beneath it that the room was not in darkness. Evidently there was a skylight which let in light from above. As I stood in the passage gazing at the sinister door and wondering what secret it might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within the room and saw a shadow pass backward and forward against the little slit of dim light which shone out from under the door. A mad, unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, Mr. Holmes. My overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and ran—ran as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the skirt of my dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, and straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting outside.

“There was a short hallway in front of me, with bare walls and no carpet. It turned at a right angle at the far end. Around the corner were three doors in a row. The first and third were open. Each led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless. One room had two windows and the other had one. The windows were so dirty that the evening light only glimmered dimly through them. The middle door was closed. One of the broad bars from an iron bed had been fastened across its outside. One end was padlocked to a ring in the wall, and the other was tied with strong cord. The door itself was also locked, and the key was missing. This barricaded door clearly led to the room with the shuttered window outside. Yet I could see a glimmer beneath the door, so the room was not dark. There was evidently a skylight letting in light from above. I stood in the hallway, staring at the sinister door and wondering what secret it might hide. Suddenly, I heard footsteps inside the room. I saw a shadow move back and forth across the narrow strip of dim light beneath the door. At the sight, a wild, irrational terror rose in me, Mr. Holmes. My strained nerves suddenly gave way, and I turned and ran. I ran as if some dreadful hand behind me were clutching at the skirt of my dress. I rushed down the hallway, through the door, and straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting outside.

“‘So,’ said he, smiling, ‘it was you, then. I thought that it must be when I saw the door open.’

“‘So,’ he said, smiling, ‘it was you. I thought it must be you when I saw the door open.’

“‘Oh, I am so frightened!’ I panted.

“‘Oh, I'm so scared!’ I panted.

“‘My dear young lady! my dear young lady!’—you cannot think how caressing and soothing his manner was—‘and what has frightened you, my dear young lady?’

“‘My dear young lady! My dear young lady!’ You can’t imagine how gentle and soothing his manner was. ‘What has frightened you, my dear young lady?’

“But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was keenly on my guard against him.

“But his voice was a little too persuasive. He overdid it. I was very wary of him.

“‘I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,’ I answered. ‘But it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there!’

“‘I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,’ I answered. ‘But it was so lonely and eerie in the dim light that I got scared and ran out again. Oh, it’s so terribly quiet in there!’

“‘Only that?’ said he, looking at me keenly.

“‘Only that?’ he said, looking at me intently.

“‘Why, what did you think?’ I asked.

“‘Well, what did you think?’ I asked.

“‘Why do you think that I lock this door?’

“‘Why do you think I lock this door?’

“‘I am sure that I do not know.’

“‘I'm sure I don't know.’

“‘It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you see?’ He was still smiling in the most amiable manner.

“‘It keeps out people who have no business being there. Do you see?’ He was still smiling in a very friendly way.

“‘I am sure if I had known—’

“‘I’m sure if I had known...’

“‘Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that threshold again’—here in an instant the smile hardened into a grin of rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a demon—‘I’ll throw you to the mastiff.’

“‘Well, now you know. And if you ever set foot in this house again,’ his smile instantly hardened into a furious grin. He glared down at me, his face like a demon’s. ‘I’ll throw you to the mastiff.’

“I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that I must have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing until I found myself lying on my bed trembling all over. Then I thought of you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live there longer without some advice. I was frightened of the house, of the man, of the woman, of the servants, even of the child. They were all horrible to me. If I could only bring you down all would be well. Of course I might have fled from the house, but my curiosity was almost as strong as my fears. My mind was soon made up. I would send you a wire. I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the office, which is about half a mile from the house, and then returned, feeling very much easier. A horrible doubt came into my mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be loose, but I remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one in the household who had any influence with the savage creature, or who would venture to set him free. I slipped in in safety and lay awake half the night in my joy at the thought of seeing you. I had no difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this morning, but I must be back before three o’clock, for Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit, and will be away all the evening, so that I must look after the child. Now I have told you all my adventures, Mr. Holmes, and I should be very glad if you could tell me what it all means, and, above all, what I should do.”

“I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose I must have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing until I found myself lying on my bed, trembling all over. Then I thought of you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live there any longer without some advice. I was frightened of the house, the man, the woman, the servants, even the child. They all seemed horrible to me. If I could only bring you down, all would be well. Of course, I could have fled from the house, but my curiosity was almost as strong as my fear. I soon made up my mind. I would send you a telegram. I put on my hat and cloak and went to the telegraph office, about half a mile from the house. Then I returned, feeling much more at ease. As I approached the door, a horrible doubt came into my mind. What if the dog was loose? But I remembered that Toller had drunk himself unconscious that evening. I knew he was the only one in the household who had any influence over the savage creature. He was also the only one who would dare to let the dog loose. I slipped in safely and lay awake half the night, joyful at the thought of seeing you. I had no difficulty getting permission to come to Winchester this morning, but I must be back before three o’clock. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit and will be away all evening, so I must look after the child. Now I have told you all my adventures, Mr. Holmes. I would be very glad if you could tell me what it all means and, above all, what I should do.”

Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. My friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in his pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon his face.

Holmes and I had listened to this extraordinary story, spellbound. My friend now stood up and paced around the room. His hands were in his pockets, and his face was deeply serious.

“Is Toller still drunk?” he asked.

“Is Toller still drunk?” he asked.

“Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do nothing with him.”

“Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she couldn't do anything with him.”

“That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?”

“That’s good. And are the Rucastles going out tonight?”

“Yes.”

“Yes.”

“Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?”

“Is there a cellar with a good, strong lock?”

“Yes, the wine-cellar.”

“Yes, the wine cellar.”

“You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite exceptional woman.”

“You seem to me to have been very brave and sensible throughout this matter, Miss Hunter. Do you think you could do one more thing? I would not ask if I did not think you were a truly exceptional woman.”

“I will try. What is it?”

“I'll try. What is it?”

“We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o’clock, my friend and I. The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm. If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely.”

“My friend and I will be at the Copper Beeches by seven o’clock. The Rucastles will be gone by then, and we hope Toller will be unable to act. That leaves only Mrs. Toller, who might raise the alarm. If you could send her into the cellar on an errand and lock her in, it would help us immensely.”

“I will do it.”

“I will do it.”

“Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of course there is only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there to personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber. That is obvious. As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter, Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a curious chance you came upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly some friend of hers—possibly her fiancé—and no doubt, as you wore the girl’s dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no longer desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to prevent him from endeavouring to communicate with her. So much is fairly clear. The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child.”

“Excellent! We shall investigate the matter thoroughly. Of course, there is only one possible explanation. You were brought there to impersonate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in that room. That is obvious. As for the prisoner’s identity, I have no doubt it is the daughter, Miss Alice Rucastle. If I remember correctly, she was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, no doubt, because you resemble her in height, build, and hair color. Her hair had been cut off, very possibly during an illness. So, of course, yours had to be sacrificed too. By a curious chance, you came across her locks of hair. The man in the road was undoubtedly a friend of hers, possibly her fiancé. You wore the girl’s dress and looked so much like her. So, no doubt, your laughter whenever he saw you, and later your gesture, convinced him that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy. He also believed she no longer wanted his attention. The dog is let loose at night to stop him from trying to contact her. All that is fairly clear. The most serious point in the case is the child’s character.”

“What on earth has that to do with it?” I ejaculated.

“What on earth does that have to do with it?” I exclaimed.

“My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don’t you see that the converse is equally valid. I have frequently gained my first real insight into the character of parents by studying their children. This child’s disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty’s sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor girl who is in their power.”

“My dear Watson, as a doctor, you are constantly learning about a child’s tendencies by studying the parents. Don’t you see that the reverse is equally true? I have often gained my first real insight into parents’ characters by studying their children. This child is unusually cruel, simply for cruelty’s sake. He may get this from his smiling father, as I suspect, or from his mother. Either way, it bodes badly for the poor girl in their power.”

“I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes,” cried our client. “A thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you have hit it. Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor creature.”

“I’m sure you’re right, Mr. Holmes,” cried our client. “A thousand things come back to me that make me certain you’ve figured it out. Oh, let’s not waste a moment in getting help for this poor creature.”

“We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning man. We can do nothing until seven o’clock. At that hour we shall be with you, and it will not be long before we solve the mystery.”

“We must be careful, because we are dealing with a very clever man. We can do nothing until seven o’clock. We will be with you then, and we will soon solve the mystery.”

We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached the Copper Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside public-house. The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark the house even had Miss Hunter not been standing smiling on the door-step.

We kept our word and reached the Copper Beeches at exactly seven, after leaving our carriage at a roadside inn. The trees alone would have marked the house, even if Miss Hunter had not been standing on the doorstep, smiling. Their dark leaves shone like polished metal in the light of the setting sun.

“Have you managed it?” asked Holmes.

“Did you manage it?” asked Holmes.

A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. “That is Mrs. Toller in the cellar,” said she. “Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates of Mr. Rucastle’s.”

A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. “That is Mrs. Toller in the cellar,” she said. “Her husband is lying on the kitchen rug, snoring. Here are his keys. They are copies of Mr. Rucastle’s.”

“You have done well indeed!” cried Holmes with enthusiasm. “Now lead the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black business.”

“You’ve done very well!” Holmes cried enthusiastically. “Now lead the way, and we’ll soon put an end to this terrible business.”

We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss Hunter had described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar. Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes’ face clouded over.

We went upstairs, unlocked the door, and walked down a passage. We found ourselves in front of the barricade Miss Hunter had described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the bar across it. Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but none worked. No sound came from inside, and Holmes’ face clouded over at the silence.

“I trust that we are not too late,” said he. “I think, Miss Hunter, that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in.”

“I hope we’re not too late,” he said. “Miss Hunter, I think we’d better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it. Let’s see if we can get in.”

It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There was no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful of linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner gone.

The door was old and rickety, and it gave way at once when we pushed together. We rushed into the room. It was empty. The only furnishings were a small pallet bed, a small table, and a basket full of linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner was gone.

“There has been some villainy here,” said Holmes; “this beauty has guessed Miss Hunter’s intentions and has carried his victim off.”

“Something wicked has happened here,” said Holmes. “This fine fellow guessed Miss Hunter’s intentions and carried his victim away.”

“But how?”

“But how?”

“Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it.” He swung himself up onto the roof. “Ah, yes,” he cried, “here’s the end of a long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it.”

“Through the skylight. We’ll soon see how he managed it.” He climbed onto the roof. “Ah, yes,” he cried, “there’s a long, lightweight ladder leaning against the edge of the roof. That’s how he did it.”

“But it is impossible,” said Miss Hunter; “the ladder was not there when the Rucastles went away.”

“But that’s impossible,” said Miss Hunter. “The ladder wasn’t there when the Rucastles went away.”

“He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were he whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your pistol ready.”

“He has come back and done it. I tell you, he is a clever and dangerous man. I wouldn’t be very surprised if those footsteps I hear on the stairs are his. Watson, I think you should have your pistol ready.”

The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stick in his hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him.

He had hardly finished speaking when a man appeared in the doorway. He was very fat and broad, with a heavy stick in his hand. At the sight of him, Miss Hunter screamed and shrank against the wall. But Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him.

“You villain!” said he, “where’s your daughter?”

“You scoundrel!” he said. “Where’s your daughter?”

The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open skylight.

The fat man looked around, then up at the open skylight.

“It is for me to ask you that,” he shrieked, “you thieves! Spies and thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I’ll serve you!” He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go.

“I should be asking you that,” he shrieked. “You thieves! Spies and thieves! I’ve caught you, haven’t I? You’re in my power. I’ll deal with you!” He turned and clattered down the stairs as fast as he could.

“He’s gone for the dog!” cried Miss Hunter.

“He’s gone to get the dog!” cried Miss Hunter.

“I have my revolver,” said I.

“I have my revolver,” I said.

“Better close the front door,” cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door.

“Better close the front door,” Holmes called, and we all rushed downstairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard a hound baying. Then came a scream of agony and the horrible sound of the hound mauling someone. It was dreadful to hear. An elderly man staggered out through a side door. His face was red and his limbs were shaking.

“My God!” he cried. “Someone has loosed the dog. It’s not been fed for two days. Quick, quick, or it’ll be too late!”

“My God!” he cried. “Someone has let the dog loose. It hasn’t been fed for two days. Hurry, hurry, or it’ll be too late!”

Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in Rucastle’s throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his neck. With much labour we separated them and carried him, living but horribly mangled, into the house. We laid him upon the drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to his wife, I did what I could to relieve his pain. We were all assembled round him when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room.

Holmes and I rushed out and around the corner of the house, with Toller hurrying behind us. The huge, starving beast had its black muzzle buried in Rucastle’s throat. He writhed and screamed on the ground. I ran up and blew its brains out. It fell over, its sharp white teeth still sunk into the deep folds of his neck. With great effort, we pulled them apart and carried Rucastle into the house. He was alive but horribly mangled. We laid him on the drawing-room sofa. I sent the now sober Toller to tell his wife what had happened, then did what I could to ease Rucastle’s pain. We were all gathered around him when the door opened and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room.

“Mrs. Toller!” cried Miss Hunter.

“Mrs. Toller!” exclaimed Miss Hunter.

“Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went up to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn’t let me know what you were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were wasted.”

“Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back, before he went upstairs to see you. Ah, miss, I wish you had told me what you were planning. I would have told you that your efforts were wasted.”

“Ha!” said Holmes, looking keenly at her. “It is clear that Mrs. Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else.”

“Ha!” said Holmes, looking closely at her. “Clearly, Mrs. Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else.”

“Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know.”

“Yes, sir, I do, and I’m willing to tell you what I know.”

“Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark.”

“Then please sit down and tell us. There are several points I must admit I still don't understand.”

“I will soon make it clear to you,” said she; “and I’d have done so before now if I could ha’ got out from the cellar. If there’s police-court business over this, you’ll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice’s friend too.

“I’ll soon make it clear to you,” she said. “I’d have done so before now if I could have gotten out of the cellar. If this ends up in court, remember that I was the one who stood by you. I was Miss Alice’s friend too.

“She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn’t, from the time that her father married again. She was slighted like and had no say in anything, but it never really became bad for her until after she met Mr. Fowler at a friend’s house. As well as I could learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own by will, but she was so quiet and patient, she was, that she never said a word about them but just left everything in Mr. Rucastle’s hands. He knew he was safe with her; but when there was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that the law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use her money. When she wouldn’t do it, he kept on worrying her until she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death’s door. Then she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and with her beautiful hair cut off; but that didn’t make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be.”

“Miss Alice was never happy at home after her father married again. She was treated as if she didn’t matter and had no say in anything. But things never really got bad for her until she met Mr. Fowler at a friend’s house. As far as I could learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own under a will. But she was so quiet and patient that she never said a word about them. She just left everything in Mr. Rucastle’s hands. He knew he was safe with her. But then a husband might come along and ask for everything the law would give him. Her father thought it was time to put a stop to that. He wanted her to sign a paper so he could use her money, whether she married or not. When she wouldn’t sign it, he kept pestering her until she got brain fever. For six weeks, she was close to death. At last she got better, but she was worn to a shadow, and her beautiful hair had been cut off. But that made no difference to her young man. He stood by her as faithfully as any man could.”

“Ah,” said Holmes, “I think that what you have been good enough to tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that remains. Mr. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of imprisonment?”

“Ah,” said Holmes, “what you have kindly told us makes the matter fairly clear. I think I can work out all that remains. I presume Mr. Rucastle then began using this method of imprisonment?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Yes, sir.”

“And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler.”

“And brought Miss Hunter down from London to get rid of Mr. Fowler’s unpleasant persistence.”

“That was it, sir.”

“That was it, sir.”

“But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as his.”

“But Mr. Fowler was persistent, as a good sailor should be. He kept watch around the house and met you. Then he used certain arguments, metallic or otherwise, to convince you that your interests were the same as his.”

“Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman,” said Mrs. Toller serenely.

“Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, generous gentleman,” said Mrs. Toller calmly.

“And in this way he managed that your good man should have no want of drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your master had gone out.”

“And in this way, he made sure your man had plenty to drink. He also made sure a ladder was ready as soon as your master had gone out.”

“You have it, sir, just as it happened.”

“That’s exactly how it happened, sir.”

“I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller,” said Holmes, “for you have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And here comes the country surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think, Watson, that we had best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our locus standi now is rather a questionable one.”

“I’m sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller,” said Holmes. “You have certainly cleared up everything that puzzled us. And here come the local surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle. So, Watson, I think we had better take Miss Hunter back to Winchester. It seems to me that our right to be here is now rather questionable.”

And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper beeches in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle’s past life that he finds it difficult to part from them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by special license, in Southampton the day after their flight, and he is now the holder of a government appointment in the island of Mauritius. As to Miss Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success.

And so the mystery of the sinister house with the copper beeches in front of the door was solved. Mr. Rucastle survived, but he was a broken man for the rest of his life. Only the care of his devoted wife kept him alive. They still live with their old servants. The servants probably know so much about Rucastle’s past that he finds it difficult to part with them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married by special license in Southampton the day after they fled. He now holds a government post on the island of Mauritius. As for Miss Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes showed no further interest in her once she ceased to be central to one of his cases. This rather disappointed me. She is now the head of a private school in Walsall, where I believe she has been quite successful.