                                      1893
                                SHERLOCK HOLMES
                                THE YELLOW FACE
                           by Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

  [In publishing these short sketches based upon the numerous cases in
which my companion's singular gifts have made us the listeners to, and
eventually the actors in, some strange drama, it is only natural
that I should dwell rather upon his successes than upon his
failures. And this not so much for the sake of his reputation-for,
indeed, it was when he was at his wit's end that his energy and his
versatility were most admirable-but because where he failed it
happened too often that no one else succeeded, and that the tale was
left forever without a conclusion. Now and again, however, it
chanced that even when he erred the truth was still discovered. I have
noted of some half-dozen cases of the kind; the adventure of the
Musgrave Ritual and that which I am about to recount are the two which
present the strongest features of interest.]

  Sherlock Holmes was a man who seldom took exercise for exercise's
sake. Few men were capable of greater muscular effort, and he was
undoubtedly one of the finest boxers of his weight that I have ever
seen; but he looked upon aimless bodily exertion as a waste of energy,
and he seldom bestirred himself save where there was some professional
object to be served. Then he was absolutely untiring and
indefatigable. That he should have kept himself in training under such
circumstances is remarkable, but his diet was usually of the
sparest, and his habits were simple to the verge of austerity. Save
for the occasional use of cocaine, he had no vices, and he only turned
to the drug as a protest against the monotony of existence when
cases were scanty and the papers uninteresting.
  One day in early spring he had so far relaxed as to go for a walk
with me in the Park, where the first faint shoots of green were
breaking out upon the elms, and the sticky spear-heads of the
chestnuts were just beginning to burst into their fivefold leaves. For
two hours we rambled about together, in silence for the most part,
as befits two men who know each other intimately. It was nearly five
before we were back in Baker Street once more.
  "Beg pardon, sir," said our page-boy as he opened the door. "There's
been a gentleman here asking for you, sir."
  Holmes glanced reproachfully at me. "So much for afternoon walks!"
said he.
  "Has this gentleman gone, then?"
  "Yes, sir."
  "Didn't you ask him in?"
  "Yes, sir, he came in."
  "How long did he wait?"
  "Half an hour, sir. He was a very restless gentleman, sir, a-walkin'
and a-stampin' all the time he was here. I was waitin' outside the
door, sir, and I could hear him. At last he outs into the passage, and
he cries, 'Is that man never goin' to come?' Those were his very
words, sir. 'You'll only need to wait a little longer,' says I.
'Then I'll wait in the open air, for I feel half choked,' says he.
'I'll be back before long.' And with that he ups and he outs, and
all I could say wouldn't hold him back."
  "Well, well, you did your best," said Holmes as we walked into our
room. "It's very annoying, though, Watson. I was badly in need of a
case, and this looks, from the man's impatience, as if it were of
importance. Hullo! that's not your pipe on the table. He must have
left his behind him. A nice old brier with a good long stem of what
the tobacconists call amber. I wonder how many real amber
mouthpieces there are in London? Some people think that a fly in it is
a sign. Well, he must have been disturbed in his mind to leave a
pipe behind him which he evidently values highly."
  "How do you know that he values it highly?" I asked.
  "Well, I should put the original cost of the pipe at seven and
sixpence. Now it has, you see, been twice mended, once in the wooden
stem and once in the amber. Each of these mends, done, as you observe,
with silver bands, must have cost more than the pipe did originally.
The man must value the pipe highly when he prefers to patch it up
rather than buy a new one with the same money."
  "Anything else?" I asked, for Holmes was turning the pipe about in
his hand and staring at it in his peculiar pensive way.
  He held it up and tapped on it with his long, thin forefinger, as
a professor might who was lecturing on a bone.
  "Pipes are occasionally of extraordinary interest," said he.
"Nothing has more individuality, save perhaps watches and bootlaces.
The indications here, however, are neither very marked nor very
important. The owner is obviously a muscular man, left-handed, with an
excellent set of teeth, careless in his habits, and with no need to
practise economy."
  My friend threw out the information in a very offhand way, but I saw
that he cocked his eye at me to see if I had followed his reasoning.
  "You think a man must be well-to-do if he smokes a seven-shilling
pipe?" said I.
  "This is Grosvenor mixture at eightpence an ounce," Holmes answered,
knocking a little out on his palm. "As he might get an excellent smoke
for half the price, he has no need to practise economy."
  "And the other points?"
  "He has been in the habit of lighting his pipe at lamps and
gas-jets. You can see that it is quite charred all down one side. Of
course a match could not have done that. Why should a man hold a match
to the side of his pipe? But you cannot light it at a lamp without
getting the bowl charred. And it is all on the right side of the pipe.
From that I gather that he is a left-handed man. You hold your own
Pipe to the lamp and see how naturally you, being right-handed, hold
the left side to the flame. You might do it once the other way, but
not as a constancy. This has always been held so. Then he has bitten
through his amber. It takes a muscular, energetic fellow, and one with
a good set of teeth, to do that. But if I am not mistaken I hear him
upon the stair, so we shall have something more interesting than his
pipe to study."
  An instant later our door opened, and a tall young man entered the
room. He was well but quietly dressed in a dark gray suit and
carried a brown wide awake in his hand. I should have put him at about
thirty, though he was really some years older.
  "I beg your pardon," said he with some embarrassment, "I suppose I
should have knocked. Yes, of course I should have knocked. The fact is
that I am a little upset, and you must put it all down to that." He
passed his hand over his forehead like a man who is half dazed, and
then fell rather than sat down upon a chair.
  "I can see that you have not slept for a night or two," said
Holmes in his easy, genial way. "That tries a man's nerves more than
work, and more even than pleasure. May I ask how I can help you?"
  "I wanted your advice, sir. I don't know what to do, and my whole
life seems to have gone to pieces."
  "You wish to employ me as a consulting detective?"
  Not that only. I want your opinion as a judicious man-as a man of
the world. I want to know what I ought to do next. I hope to God
you'll be able to tell me."
  He spoke in little, sharp, jerky outbursts, and it seemed to me that
to speak at all was very painful to him, and that his will all through
was overriding his inclinations.
  "It's a very delicate thing," said he. "One does not like to speak
of one's domestic affairs to strangers. It seems dreadful to discuss
the conduct of one's wife with two men whom I have never seen
before. It's horrible to have to do it. But I've got to the end of
my tether, and I must have advice."
  "My dear Mr. Grant Munro--" began Holmes.
  Our visitor sprang from his chair. "What!" he cried, "you know my
name?"
  "If you wish to preserve your incognito," said Holmes, smiling, "I
would suggest that you cease to write your name upon the lining of
your hat, or else that you turn the crown towards the person whom
you are addressing. I was about to say that my friend and I have
listened to a good many strange secrets in this room, and that we have
had the good fortune to bring peace to many troubled souls. I trust
that we may do as much for you. Might I beg you, as time may prove
to be of importance, to furnish me with the facts of your case without
further delay?"
  Our visitor again passed his hand over his forehead, as if he
found it bitterly hard. From every gesture and expression I could
see that he was a reserved selfcontained man, with a dash of pride
in his nature, more likely to hide his wounds than to expose them.
Then suddenly, with a fierce gesture of his closed hand, like one
who throws reserve to the winds, he began:
  "The facts are these, Mr. Holmes," said he. "I am a married man
and have been so for three years. During that time my wife and I
have loved each other as fondly and lived as happily as any two that
ever were joined. We have not had a difference, not one, in thought or
word or deed. And now, since last Monday, there has suddenly sprung up
a barrier between us, and I find that there is something in her life
and in her thoughts of which I know as little as if she were the woman
who brushes by me in the street. We are estranged, and I want to
know why.
  "Now there is one thing that I want to impress upon you before I
go any further, Mr. Holmes. Effie loves me. Don't let there be any
mistake about that. She loves me with her whole heart and soul, and
never more than now. I know it. I feel it. I don't want to argue about
that. A man can tell easily enough when a woman loves him. But there's
this secret between us, and we can never be the same until it is
cleared."
  "Kindly let me have the facts, Mr. Munro," said Holmes with some
impatience.
  "I'll tell you what I know about Effie's history. She was a widow
when I met her first, though quite young-only twenty-five. Her name
then was Mrs. Hebron. She went out to America when she was young and
lived in the town of Atlanta, where she married this Hebron, who was a
lawyer with a good practice. They had one child, but the yellow
fever broke out badly in the place, and both husband and child died of
it. I have seen his death certificate. This sickened her of America,
and she came back to live with a maiden aunt at Pinner, in
Middlesex. I may mention that her husband had left her comfortably
off, and that she had a capital of about four thousand five hundred
pounds, which had been so well invested by him that it returned an
average of seven per cent. She had only been six months at Pinner when
I met her; we fell in love with each other, and we married a few weeks
afterwards.
  "I am a hop merchant myself, and as I have an income of seven or
eight hundred, we found ourselves comfortably off and took a nice
eighty-pound-a-year villa at Norbury. Our little place was very
countrified, considering that it is so close to town. We had an inn
and two houses a little above us, and a single cottage at the other
side of the field which faces us, and except those there were no
houses until you got halfway to the station. My business took me
into town at certain seasons, but in summer I had less to do, and then
in our country home my wife and I were just as happy as could be
wished. I tell you that there never was a shadow between us until this
accursed affair began.
  "There's one thing I ought to tell you before I go further. When
we married, my wife made over all her property to me-rather against my
will, for I saw how awkward it would be if my business affairs went
wrong. However, she would have it so, and it was done. Well, about six
weeks ago she came to me.
  "'Jack,' said she, 'when you took my money you said that if ever I
wanted any I was to ask you for it.'
  "'Certainly,' said I. 'It's all your own.'
  "'Well,' said she, 'I want a hundred pounds.'
  "I was a bit staggered at this, for I had imagined it was simply a
new dress or something of the kind that she was after.
  "'What on earth for?' I asked.
  "'Oh,' said she in her playful way, 'You said that you were only
my banker, and bankers never ask questions, you know.'
  "'If you really mean it, of course you shall have the money,' said
I.
  "'Oh, yes, I really mean it.'
  "'And you won't tell me what you want it for?'
  "'Some day, perhaps, but not just at present, Jack.'
  "So I had to be content with that, though it was the first time that
there had ever been any secret between us. I gave her a check, and I
never thought any more of the matter. It may have nothing to do with
what came afterwards, but I thought it only right to mention it.
  "Well, I told you just now that there is a cottage not far from
our house. There is just a field between us, but to reach it you
have to go along the road and then turn down a lane. Just beyond it is
a nice little grove of Scotch firs, and I used to be very fond of
strolling down there, for trees are always a neighbourly kind of
thing. The cottage had been standing empty this eight months, and it
was a pity, for it was a pretty two-storied place, with an
old-fashioned porch and a honeysuckle about it. I have stood many a
time and thought what a neat little homestead it would make.
  "Well, last Monday evening I was taking a stroll down that way
when I met an empty van coming up the lane and saw a pile of carpets
and things lying about on the grass-plot beside the porch. It was
clear that the cottage had at last been let. I walked past it, and
then stopping, as an idle man might, I ran my eye over it and wondered
what sort of folk they were who had come to live so near us. And as
I looked I suddenly became aware that a face was watching me out of
one of the upper windows.
  "I don't know what there was about that face, Mr. Holmes, but it
seemed to send a chill right down my back. I was some little way
off, so that I could not make out the features, but there was
something unnatural and inhuman about the face. That was the
impression that I had, and I moved quickly forward to get a nearer
view of the person who was watching me. But as I did so the face
suddenly disappeared, so suddenly that it seemed to have been
plucked away into the darkness of the room. I stood for five minutes
thinking the business over and trying to analyze my impressions. I
could not tell if the face was that of a man or a woman. It had been
too far from me for that. But its colour was what had impressed me
most. It was of a livid chalky white, and with something set and rigid
about it which was shockingly unnatural. So disturbed was I that I
determined to see a little more of the new inmates of the cottage. I
approached and knocked at the door, which was instantly opened by a
tall, gaunt woman with a harsh, forbidding face.
  "'What may you be wantin'?' she asked in a Northern accent.
  "'I am your neighbour over yonder,' said I, nodding towards.my
house. 'I see that you have only just moved in, so I thought that if I
could be of any help to you in any-'
  "'Ay, we'll just ask ye when we want ye,' said she, and shut the
door in my face. Annoyed at the churlish rebuff, I turned my back
and walked home. All evening, though I tried to think of other
thines my mind would still turn to the apparition at the window and
the rudeness of the woman. I determined to say nothing about the
former to my wife, for she is a nervous, highly strung woman, and I
had no wish that she should share the unpleasant impression which
had been produced upon myself. I remarked to her, however, before I
fell asleep, that the cottage was now occupied, to which she
returned no reply.
  "I am usually an extremely sound sleeper. It has been a standing
jest in the family that nothing could ever wake me during the night.
And yet somehow on that particular night, whether it may have been the
slight excitement produced by my little adventure or not I know not,
but I slept much more lightly than usual. Half in my dreams I was
dimly conscious that something was going on in the room, and gradually
became aware that my wife had dressed herself and was slipping on
her mantle and her bonnet. My lips were parted to murmur out some
sleepy words of surprise or remonstrance at this untimely preparation,
when suddenly my half-opened eyes fell upon her face, illuminated by
the candle-light, and astonishment held me dumb. She wore an
expression such as I had never seen before-such as I should have
thought her incapable of assuming. She was deadly pale and breathing
fast, glancing furtively towards the bed as she fastened her mantle to
see if she had disturbed me. Then, thinking that I was still asleep,
she slipped noiselessly from the room, and an instant later I heard
a sharp creaking which could only come from the hinges of the front
door. I sat up in bed and rapped my knuckles against the rail to
make certain that I was truly awake. Then I took my watch from under
the pillow. It was three in the morning. What on this earth could my
wife be doing out on the country road at three in the morning?
  "I had sat for about twenty minutes turning the thing over in my
mind and trying to find some possible explanation. The more I thought,
the more extraordinary and inexplicable did it appear. I was still
puzzling over it when I heard the door gently close again, and her
footsteps coming up the stairs.
  "'Where in the world have you been, Effie?' I asked as she entered.
  "She gave a violent start and a kind of gasping cry when I spoke,
and that cry and start troubled me more than all the rest, for there
was something indescribably guilty about them. My wife had always been
a woman of a frank, open nature, and it gave me a chill to see her
slinking into her own room and crying out and wincing when her own
husband spoke to her.
  "'You awake, Jack!' she cried with a nervous laugh. 'Why, I
thought that nothing could awake you.'
  "'Where have you been?' I asked, more sternly.
  "'I don't wonder that you are surprised,' said she, and I could
see that her fingers were trembling as she undid the fastenings of her
mantle. 'Why, I never remember having done such a thing in my life
before. The fact is that I felt as though I were choking and had a
perfect longing for a breath of fresh air. I really think that I
should have fainted if I had not gone out. I stood at the door for a
few minutes, and now I am quite myself again.'
  "All the time that she was telling me this story she never once
looked in my direction, and her voice was quite unlike her usual
tones. It was evident to me that she was saying what was false. I said
nothing in reply, but turned my face to the wall, sick at heart,
with my mind filled with a thousand venomous doubts and suspicions.
What was it that my wife was concealing from me? Where had she been
during that strange expedition? I felt that I should have no peace
until I knew, and yet I shrank from asking her again after once she
had told me what was false. All the rest of the night I tossed and
tumbled, framing theory after theory, each more unlikely than the
last.
  "I should have gone to the City that day, but I was too disturbed in
my mind to be able to pay attention to business matters. My wife
seemed to be as upset as myself, and I could see from the little
questioning glances which she kept shooting at me that she
understood that I disbelieved her statement, and that she was at her
wit's end what to do. We hardly exchanged a word during breakfast, and
immediately afterwards I went out for a walk that I might think the
matter out in the fresh morning air.
  "I went as far as the Crystal Palace, spent an hour in the
grounds, and was back in Norbury by one o'clock. It happened that my
way took me past the cottage, and I stopped for an instant to look
at the windows and to see if I could catch a glimpse of the strange
face which had looked out at me on the day before. As I stood there,
imagine my surprise, Mr. Holmes, when the door suddenly opened and
my wife walked out.
  "I was struck dumb with astonishment at the sight of her, but my
emotions were nothing to those which showed themselves upon her face
when our eyes met. She seemed for an instant to wish to shrink back
inside the house again; and then, seeing how useless all concealment
must be, she came forward, with a very white face and frightened
eyes which belied the smile upon her lips.
  "'Ah, Jack,' she said, 'I have just been in to see if I can be of
any assistance to our new neighbours. Why do you look at me like that,
Jack? You are not angry with me?'
  "'So,' said I, 'this is where you went during the night.'
  "What do you mean?' she cried.
  "'You came here. I am sure of it. Who are these people that you
should visit them at such an hour?'
  "'I have not been here before.'
  "'How can you tell me what you know is false?' I cried. 'Your very
voice changes as you speak. When have I ever had a secret from you?
I shall enter that cottage, and I shall probe the matter to the
bottom.'
  "'No, no, Jack, for God's sake!' she gasped in uncontrollable
emotion. Then, as I approached the door, she seized my sleeve and
pulled me back with convulsive strength.
  "'I implore you not to do this, Jack,' she cried. 'I swear that I
will tell you everything some day, but nothing but misery can come
of it if you enter that cottage.' Then, as I tried to shake her off,
she clung to me in a frenzy of entreaty.
  "'Trust me, Jack!' she cried. 'Trust me only this once. You will
never have cause to regret it. You know that I would not have a secret
from you if it were not for your own sake. Our whole lives are at
stake in this. If you come home with me all will be well. If you force
your way into that cottage all is over between us.'
  "There was such earnestness, such despair, in her manner that her
words arrested me, and I stood irresolute before the door.
  "'I will trust you on one condition, and on one condition only,'
said I at last. 'It is that this mystery comes to an end from now. You
are at liberty to preserve your secret, but you must promise me that
there shall be no more nightly visits, no more doings which are kept
from my knowledge. I am willing to forget those which are past if
you will promise that there shall be no more in the future.'
  "'I was sure that you would trust me,' she cried with a great sigh
of relief. 'It shall be just as you wish. Come away-oh, come away up
to the house.'
  "Still pulling at my sleeve, she led me away from the cottage. As we
went I glanced back, and there was that yellow livid face watching
us out of the upper window. What link could there be between that
creature and my wife? Or how could the coarse, rough woman whom I
had seen the day before be connected with her? It was a strange
puzzle, and yet I knew that my mind could never know ease again
until I had solved it.
  "For two days after this I stayed at home, and my wife appeared to
abide loyally by our engagement, for, as far as I know, she never
stirred out of the house. on the third day, however, I had ample
evidence that her solemn promise was not enough to hold her back
from this secret influence which drew her away from her husband and
her duty.
  "I had gone into town on that day, but I returned by the 2:40
instead of the 3:36, which is my usual train. As I entered the house
the maid ran into the hall with a startled face.
  "'Where is your mistress?' I asked.
  "'I think that she has gone out for a walk,' she answered.
  "My mind was instantly filled with suspicion. I rushed upstairs to
make sure that she was not in the house. As I did so I happened to
glance out of one of the upper windows and saw the maid with whom I
had just been speaking running across the field in the direction of
the cottage. Then of course I saw exactly what it all meant. My wife
had gone over there and had asked the servant to call her if I
should return. Tingling with anger, I rushed down and hurried
across, determined to end the matter once and forever. I saw my wife
and the maid hurrying back along the lane, but I did not stop to speak
with them. In the cottage lay the secret which was casting a shadow
over my life. I vowed that, come what might, it should be a secret
no longer. I did not even knock when I reached it, but turned the
handle and rushed into the passage.
  "It was all still and quiet upon the ground floor. In the kitchen
a kettle was singing on the fire, and a large black cat lay coiled
up in the basket; but there was no sign of the woman whom I had seen
before. I ran into the other room, but it was equally deserted. Then I
rushed up the stairs only to find two other rooms empty and deserted
at the top. There was no one at all in the whole house. The
furniture and pictures were of the most common and vulgar description,
save in the one chamber at the window of which I had seen the
strange face. That was comfortable and elegant, and all my
suspicions rose into a fierce, bitter flame when I saw that on the
mantelpiece stood a copy of a full-length photograph of my wife, which
had been taken at my request only three months ago.
  "I stayed long enough to make certain that the house was
absolutely empty. Then I left it, feeling a weight at my heart such as
I had never had before. My wife came out into the hall as I entered my
house; but I was too hurt and angry to speak with her, and, pushing
past her, I made my way into my study. She followed me, however,
before I could close the door.
  "'I am sorry that I broke my promise, Jack,' said she, 'but if you
knew all the circumstances I am sure that you would forgive me.'
  "'Tell me everything, then,' said I.
  "'I cannot, Jack, I cannot,' she cried.
  "'Until you tell me who it is that has been living in that
cottage, and who it is to whom you have given that photograph, there
can never be any confidence between us,' said I, and breaking away
from her I left the house. That was yesterday, Mr. Holmes, and I
have not seen her since, nor do I know anything more about this
strange business. It is the first shadow that has come between us, and
it has so shaken me that I do not know what I should do for the
best. Suddenly this morning it occurred to me that you were the man to
advise me, so I have hurried to you now, and I place myself
unreservedly in your hands. If there is any point which I have not
made clear, pray question me about it. But, above all, tell me quickly
what I am to do, for this misery is more than I can bear."
  Holmes and I had listened with the utmost interest to this
extraordinary statement, which had been delivered in the jerky, broken
fashion of a man who is under the influence of extreme emotion. My
companion sat silent now for some time, with his chin upon his hand,
lost in thought.
  "Tell me," said he at last, "could you swear that this was a man's
face which you saw at the window?"
  "Each time that I saw it I was some distance away from it, so that
it is impossible for me to say."
  "You appear, however, to have been disagreeably impressed by it."
  "It seemed to be of an unusual colour and to have a strange rigidity
about the features. When I approached it vanished with a jerk."
  "How long is it since your wife asked you for a hundred pounds?"
  "Nearly two months."
  "Have you ever seen a photograph of her first husband?"
  "No, there was a great fire at Atlanta very shortly after his death,
and all her papers were destroyed."
  "And yet she had a certificate of death. You say that you saw it."
  "Yes, she got a duplicate after the fire."
  "Did you ever meet anyone who knew her in America?"
  "No."
  "Did she ever talk of revisiting the place?"
  "No."
  "Or get letters from it?"
  "No."
  "Thank you. I should like to think over the matter a little now.
If the cottage is now permanently deserted we may have some
difficulty. If, on the other hand, as I fancy is more likely, the
inmates were warned of your coming and left before you entered
yesterday, then they may be back now, and we should clear it all up
easily. Let me advise you, then, to return to Norbury and to examine
the windows of the cottage again. If you have reason to believe that
it is inhabited, do not force your way in, but send a wire to my
friend and me. We shall be with you within an hour of receiving it,
and we shall then very soon get to the bottom of the business."
  "And if it is still empty?"
  "In that case I shall come out to-morrow and talk it over with
you. Good-bye, and, above all, do not fret until you know that you
really have a cause for it."
  "I am afraid that this is a bad business, Watson," said my companion
as he returned after accompanying Mr. Grant Munro to the door. "What
do you make of it?"
  "It had an ugly sound," I answered.
  "Yes. There's blackmail in it, or I am much mistaken."
  "And who is the blackmailer?"
  "Well, it must be the creature who lives in the only comfortable
room in the place and has her photograph above his fireplace. Upon
my word, Watson, there is something very attractive about that livid
face at the window, and I would not have missed the case for worlds."
  "You have a theory?"
  "Yes, a provisional one. But I shall be surprised if it does not
turn out to be correct. This woman's first husband is in that
cottage."
  "Why do you think so?"
  "How else can we explain her frenzied anxiety that her second one
should not enter it? The facts, as I read them, are something like
this: This woman was married in America. Her husband developed some
hateful qualities, or shall we say he contracted some loathsome
disease and became a leper or an imbecile? She flies from him at last,
returns to England, changes her name, and starts her life, as she
thinks, afresh. She has been married three years and believes that her
position is quite secure, having shown her husband the death
certificate of some man whose name she has assumed, when suddenly
her whereabouts is discovered by her first husband, or, we may
suppose, by some unscrupulous woman who has attached herself to the
invalid. They write to the wife and threaten to come and expose her.
She asks for a hundred pounds and endeavours to buy them off. They
come in spite of it, and when the husband mentions casually to the
wife that there are newcomers in the cottage, she knows in some way
that they are her pursuers. She waits until her husband is asleep, and
then she rushes down to endeavour to persuade them to leave her in
peace. Having no success, she goes again next morning, and her husband
meets her, as he has told us, as she comes out. She promises him
then not to go there again, but two days afterwards the hope of
getting rid of those dreadful neighbours was too strong for her, and
she made another attempt, taking down with her the photograph which
had probably been demanded from her. In the midst of this interview
the maid rushed in to say that the master had come home, on which
the wife, knowing that he would come straight down to the cottage,
hurried the inmates out at the back door, into the grove of fir-trees,
probably, which was mentioned as standing near. In this way he found
the place deserted. I shall be very much surprised, however, if it
is still so when he reconnoitres it this evening. What do you think of
my theory?"
  "It is all surmise."
  "But at least it covers all the facts. After new facts come to our
knowledge which cannot be covered by it, it will be time enough to
reconsider it. We can do nothing more until we have a message from our
friend at Norbury."
  But we had not a very long time to wait for that. It came just as we
bad finished our tea.

    The cottage is still tenanted [it said]. Have seen the face
again at the window. Will meet the seven-o'clock train and will take
no steps until you arrive.

  He was waiting on the platform when we stepped out, and we could see
in the light of the station lamps that he was very pale, and quivering
with agitation.
  "They are still there, Mr. Holmes," said he, laying his hand hard
upon my friend's sleeve. "I saw lights in the cottage as I came
down. We shall settle it now once and for all."
  "What is your plan, then?" asked Holmes as he walked down the dark
tree-lined road.
  "I am going to force my way in and see for myself who is in the
house. I wish you both to be there as witnesses."
  "You are quite determined to do this in spite of your wife's warning
that it is better that you should not solve the mystery?"
  "Yes, I am determined."
  "Well, I think that you are in the right. Any truth is better than
indefinite doubt. We had better go up at once. Of course, legally,
we are putting ourselves hopelessly in the wrong; but I think that
it is worth it."
  It was a very dark night, and a thin rain began to fall as we turned
from the highroad into a narrow lane, deeply rutted, with hedges on
either side. Mr. Grant Munro pushed impatiently forward, however,
and we stumbled after him as best we could.
  "There are the lights of my house," he murmured, pointing to a
glimmer among the trees. "And here is the cottage which I am going
to enter."
  We turned a corner in the lane as he spoke, and there was the
building close beside us. A yellow bar falling across the black
foreground showed that the door was not quite closed, and one window
in the upper story was brightly illuminated. As we looked, we saw a
dark blur moving across the blind.
  "There is that creature!" cried Grant Munro. "You can see for
yourselves that someone is there. Now follow me, and we shall soon
know all."
  We approached the door, but suddenly a woman appeared out of the
shadow and stood in the golden track of the lamplight. I could not see
her face in the darkness, but her arms were thrown out in an
attitude of entreaty.
  "For God's sake, don't, Jack!" she cried. "I had a presentiment that
you would come this evening. Think better of it, dear! Trust me again,
and you will never have cause to regret it."
  "I have trusted you too long, Effie," he cried sternly. "Leave go of
me! I must pass you. My friends and I are going to settle this
matter once and forever!" He pushed her to one side, and we followed
closely after him. As he threw the door open an old woman ran out in
front of him and tried to bar his passage, but he thrust her back, and
an instant afterwards we were all upon the stairs. Grant Munro
rushed into the lighted room at the top, and we entered at his heels.
  It was a cosy, well-furnished apartment, with two candles burning
upon the table and two upon the mantelpiece. In the corner, stooping
over a desk, there sat what appeared to be a little girl. Her face was
turned away as we entered, but we could see that she was dressed in
a red frock, and that she had long white gloves on. As she whisked
round to us, I gave a cry of surprise and horror. The face which she
turned towards us was of the strangest livid tint, and the features
were absolutely devoid of any expression. An instant later the mystery
was explained. Holmes, with a laugh, passed his hand behind the
child's ear, a mask peeled off from her countenance, and there was a
little coal-black negress, with all her white teeth flashing in
amusement at our amazed faces. I burst out laughing, out of sympathy
with her merriment; but Grant Munro stood staring, with his hand
clutching his throat.
  "My God!" he cried. "What can be the meaning of this?"
  "I will tell you the meaning of it," cried the lady, sweeping into
the room with a proud, set face. "You have forced me, against my own
judgment, to tell you, and now we must both make the best of it. My
husband died at Atlanta. My child survived."
  "Your child?"
  She drew a large silver locket from her bosom. "You have never
seen this open."
  "I understood that it did not open."
  She touched a spring, and the front hinged back. There was a
portrait within of a man strikingly handsome and
intelligent-looking, but bearing unmistakable signs upon his
features of his African descent.
  "That is John Hebron, of Atlanta," said the lady, "and a nobler
man never walked the earth. I cut myself off from my race in order
to wed him, but never once while he lived did I for an instant
regret it. It was our misfortune that our only child took after his
people rather than mine. It is often so in such matches, and little
Lucy is darker far than ever her father was. But dark or fair, she
is my own dear little girlie, and her mother's pet." The little
creature ran across at the words and nestled up against the lady's
dress. "When I left her in America," she continued, "it was only
because her health was weak, and the change might have done her
harm. She was given to the care of a faithful Scotch woman who had
once been our servant. Never for an instant did I dream of disowning
her as my child. But when chance threw you in my way, Jack, and I
learned to love you, I feared to tell you about my child. God
forgive me, I feared that I should lose you, and I had not the courage
to tell you. I had to choose between you, and in my weakness I
turned away from my own little girl. For three years I have kept her
existence a secret from you, but I heard from the nurse, and I knew
that all was well with her. At last, however, there came an
overwhelming desire to see the child once more. I struggled against
it, but in vain. Though I knew the danger, I determined to have the
child over, if it were but for a few weeks. I sent a hundred pounds to
the nurse, and I gave her instructions about this cottage, so that she
might come as a neighbour, without my appearing to be in any way
connected with her. I pushed my precautions so far as to order her
to keep the child in the . p house during the daytime, and to cover up
her little face and hands so that even those who might see her at
the window should not gossip about there being a black child in the
neighbourhood. If I had been less cautious I might have been more
wise, but I was half crazy with fear that you should learn the truth.
  "It was you who told me first that the cottage was occupied. I
should have waited for the morning, but I could not sleep for
excitement, and so at last I slipped out, knowing how difficult it
is to awake you. But you saw me go, and that was the beginning of my
troubles. Next day you had my secret at your mercy, but you nobly
refrained from pursuing your advantage. Three days later, however, the
nurse and child only just escaped from the back door as you rushed
in at the front one. And now to-night you at last know all, and I
ask you what is to become of us, my child and me?" She clasped her
hands and waited for an answer.
  It was a long ten minutes before Grant Munro broke the silence,
and when his answer came it was one of which I love to think. He
lifted the little child, kissed her, and then, still carrying her,
he held his other hand out to his wife and turned towards the door.
  "We can talk it over more comfortably at home," said he. "I am not a
very good man, Effie, but I think that I am a better one than you have
given me credit for being."
  Holmes and I followed them down the lane, and my friend plucked at
my sleeve as we came out.
  "I think," said he, "that we shall be of more use in London than
in Norbury."
  Not another word did he say of the case until late that night,
when he was turning away, with his lighted candle, for his bedroom.
  "Watson," said he, "if it should ever strike you that I am getting a
little overconfident in my powers, or giving less pains to a case than
it deserves, kindly whisper 'Norbury' in my ear, and I shall be
infinitely obliged to you."
                                    THE END
