                                      1892
                                SHERLOCK HOLMES
                      THE ADVENTURE OF THE COPPER BEECHES
                           by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle
          The Adventure of the Copper Beeches

  "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
celebres 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."
  "And yet," said I, smiling, "I cannot quite hold myself absolved
from the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my
records."
  "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."
  "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.
  "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."
  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.
  "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."
  "The end may have been so," I answered, "but the methods I hold to
have been novel and of interest."
  "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.
  It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran
thus:

  DEAR MR. HOLMES:
  I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should
not accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I
shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not inconvenience you.
                                      Yours faithfully,
                                        VIOLET HUNTER.

  "Do you know the young lady?" I asked.
  "Not I."
  "It is half-past ten now."
  "Yes, and I have no doubt 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."
  "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."
  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.
  "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."
  "Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that
I can to serve 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 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.
  "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.
  "Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office as
usual, but 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.
  "'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.
  "'You are looking for a situation, miss?' he asked.
  "'Yes, sir.'
  "'As governess?'
  "'Yes, sir.'
  "'And what salary do you ask?'
  "'I had L4 a month in my last place 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?'
  "'My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,' said I. '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 L100 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.
  "'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.'
  "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.
  "'May I ask where you live, sir?' said I.
  "'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.'
  "'And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.'
  "'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.
  "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.
  "'My sole duties, then,' I asked, 'are to take charge of a single
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?'
  "'I should be happy to make myself useful.'
  "'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?'
  "'No,' said I, considerably astonished at his words.
  "'Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?'
  "'Oh, no.'
  "'Or to cut your hair quite 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 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 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?'
  "'No, sir, I really could not,' 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.'
  "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.
  "'Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?' she asked.
  "'If you 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, 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 L100 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:

                                "The Copper Beeches, near Winchester.
"DEAR MISS HUNTER:
  "Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your address, and I write from
here to ask you whether you have reconsidered your decision. My wife
is very anxious that you should come, for she has been much
attracted by my description of you. We are willing to give L30 a
quarter, or L120 a year, so as to recompense you for any little
inconvenience which our fads may cause you. They are not very
exacting, after all. My wife is fond of a particular shade of electric
blue, and would like you to wear such a dress indoors in the
morning. You need not, however, go to the expense of purchasing one,
as we have one belonging to my dear daughter Alice (now in
Philadelphia), which would, I should think, fit you very well. Then,
as to sitting here or there, or amusing yourself in any manner
indicated, that need cause you no inconvenience. As regards your hair,
it is no doubt a pity, especially as I could not help remarking its
beauty during our short interview, but I am afraid that I must
remain firm upon this point, and I only hope that the increased salary
may recompense you for the loss. Your duties, as far as the child is
concerned, are very light. Now do try to come, and I shall meet you
with the dog-cart at Winchester. Let me know your train.
                               "Yours faithfully,
                                  "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."
  "Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the
question," said Holmes, smiling.
  "But you would not advise me to refuse?"
  "I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a
sister of mine apply for."
  "What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?"
  "Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed
some opinion?"
  "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?"
  "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."
  "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 L120 a year, when they could
have their pick for L40? There must be some strong reason behind."
  "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."
  "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-"
  "Danger! What danger do you foresee?"
  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."
  "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.
  "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."
  "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."
  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.
  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.
  "Just look up the trains in Bradshaw," said he, and turned back to
his chemical studies.
  The summons was a brief and urgent one.

  Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday
to-morrow [it said]. Do come! I am at my wit's end.
                                                              HUNTER.

  "Will you come with me?" asked Holmes, glancing up.
  "I should wish to."
  "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 11:3O."
  "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."

  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 gray roofs of the
farm-steadings peeped out from amid the light green of the new
foliage.
  "Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all the
enthusiasm of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street.
  But Holmes shook his head gravely.
  "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."
  "Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with these
dear old homesteads?"
  "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."
  "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."
  "No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away."
  "Quite so. She has her freedom."
  "What can be the matter, then? Can you suggest no 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."
  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.
  "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."
  "Pray tell us what has 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."
  "Let us have everything in its due order." Holmes thrust his long
thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself 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."
  "What can you not 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 highroad, 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.
  "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.
  "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 gray 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."
  "I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem
to you to be 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.
  "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.
  "'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.'
  "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.
  "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 repertoire, 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.
  "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
gray 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.
  "'Jephro,' said she, 'there is an impertinent fellow upon the road
there who stares up at Miss Hunter.'
  "'No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?' he asked.
  "'No, I know no one in these parts.'
  "'Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to him
to go away.'
  "'Surely it would be better to take no notice.'
  "'No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn
round 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."
  "Pray continue," said Holmes. "Your narrative promises to be a
most interesting one."
  "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.
  "Look in here!" said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two
planks. "Is he not a beauty?"
  "I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a
vague figure huddled up 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."
  "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.
  "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.
  "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 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.
  "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.
  "'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.'
  "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.'
  "He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at
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?' 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.
  "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.
  "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.
  "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.
  "'So,' said he, smiling, 'it was you, then. I thought that it must
be when I saw the door open.'
  "'Oh, I am so frightened!' 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 lady?'
  "But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was
keenly on my guard against 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!'
  "'Only that?' said he, looking at me keenly.
  "'Why, what did you think?' I asked.
  "'Why do you think that I lock this door?'
  "'I am sure that I do not know.'
  "'It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you
see?' He was still smiling in the most amiable manner.
  "'I am 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.'
  "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 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."
  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.
  "Is Toller still drunk?" he asked.
  "Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do
nothing with him."
  "That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?"
  "Yes."
  "Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?"
  "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."
  "I will 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."
  "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 fiance-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."
  "What on earth has that to do with it?" I ejaculated.
  "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."
  "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."
  "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 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.
  "Have you managed 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."
  "You have done well indeed!" cried Holmes with enthusiasm. "Now lead
the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black 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's face
clouded over.
  "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."
  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.
  "There has been some villainy here," said Holmes; "this beauty has
guessed Miss Hunter's intentions and has carried his victim off."
  "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."
  "But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not
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."
  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.
  "You villain!" said he, "where's your daughter?"
  The fat man cast his eyes round, and 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.
  "He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter.
  "I have my revolver," said I.
  "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.
  "My God" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. He's not been fed
for two days. Quick, quick, or we'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.
  "Mrs. Toller!" cried 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."
  "Ha!" said Holmes, looking keenly at her. "It is clear that Mrs.
Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else."
  "Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell 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."
  "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.
  "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."
  "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?"
  "Yes, sir."
  "And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the
disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler."
  "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."
  "Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman," said
Mrs. Toller serenely.
  "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."
  "You have it, sir, just as it happened."
  "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."
  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.
                                    THE END
