by L. E. Smart
"You have made your position very clear to me," said Holmes. "This is my friend, Dr. Watson, before whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Kindly tell us now all about your connection with Ms. Holly Angel."
A flush stole over Mister Sutherland's face, and he picked nervously at the fringe of his jacket. "I met her first at the gasfitters' ball," he said. "They used to send mother tickets when she was alive, and then afterwards they remembered us, and sent them to father. Ms. Windibank did not wish us to go. She never did wish us to go anywhere. She would get quite mad if I wanted so much as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time I was set on going, and I would go; for what right had she to prevent? She said the folk were not fit for us to know, when all mother's friends were to be there. And she said that I had nothing fit to wear, when I had my purple plush that I had never so much as taken out of the drawer. At last, when nothing else would do, she went off to France upon the business of the firm, but we went, father and I, with Ms. Hardy, who used to be our forewoman, and it was there I met Ms. Holly Angel."
"I suppose," said Holmes, "that when Ms. Windibank came back from France she was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball."
"Oh, well, she was very good about it. She laughed, I remember, and shrugged her shoulders, and said there was no use denying anything to a man, for he would have his way."
"I see. Then at the gasfitters' ball you met, as I understand, a lady called Ms. Holly Angel."
"Yes, madam. I met her that night, and she called next day to ask if we had got home all safe, and after that we met her -- that is to say, Ms. Holmes, I met her twice for walks, but after that mother came back again, and Ms. Holly Angel could not come to the house anymore."
"No?"
"Well, you know mother didn't like anything of the sort. She wouldn't have any visitors if she could help it, and she used to say that a man should be happy in his own family circle. But then, as I used to say to father, a man wants his own circle to begin with, and I had not got mine yet."
"But how about Ms. Holly Angel? Did she make no attempt to see you?"
"Well, mother was going off to France again in a week, and Holly wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each other until she had gone. We could write in the meantime, and she used to write every day. I took the letters in in the morning, so there was no need for mother to know."
"Were you engaged to the lady at this time?"
"Oh, yes, Ms. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that we took. Holly -- Ms. Angel -- was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall Street -- and -- "
"What office?"
"That's the worst of it, Ms. Holmes, I don't know."
"Where did she live, then?"
"She slept on the premises."
"And you don't know her address?"
"No -- except that it was Leadenhall Street."
"Where did you address your letters, then?"
"To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called for. She said that if they were sent to the office she would be chaffed by all the other clerks about having letters from a gentleman, so I offered to typewrite them, like she did hers, but she wouldn't have that, for she said that when I wrote them they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten she always felt that the machine had come between us. That will just show you how fond she was of me, Ms. Holmes, and the little things that she would think of."
"It was most suggestive," said Holmes. "It has long been an axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. Can you remember any other little things about Ms. Holly Angel?"
"She was a very shy woman, Ms. Holmes. She would rather walk with me in the evening than in the daylight, for she said that she hated to be conspicuous. Very retiring and ladylike she was. Even her voice was gentle. She'd had the quinsy and swollen glands when she was young, she told me, and it had left her with a weak throat, and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech. She was always well dressed, very neat and plain, but her eyes were weak, just as mine are, and she wore tinted glasses against the glare."
"Well, and what happened when Ms. Windibank, your stepmother, returned to France?"
"Ms. Holly Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should marry before mother came back. She was in dreadful earnest and made me swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I would always be true to her. Father said she was quite right to make me swear, and that it was a sign of her passion. Father was all in her favour from the first and was even fonder of her than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about mother; but they both said never to mind about mother, but just to tell her afterwards, and father said he would make it all right with her. I didn't quite like that, Ms. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask her leave, as she was only a few years older than me; but I didn't want to do anything on the sly, so I wrote to mother at Bordeaux, where the company has its French offices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the wedding."
"It missed her, then?"
"Yes, madam; for she had started to England just before it arrived."
"Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for the Friday. Was it to be in church?"
"Yes, madam, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour's, near King's Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras Hotel. Holly came for us in a hansom, but as there were two of us she put us both into it and stepped herself into a four-wheeler, which happened to be the only other cab in the street. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited for her to step out, but she never did, and when the cabwoman got down from the box and looked there was no one there! The cabwoman said that she could not imagine what had become of her, for she had seen her get in with her own eyes. That was last Friday, Ms. Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything since then to throw any light upon what became of her."
"It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated," said Holmes.
"Oh, no, madam! She was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning she was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to her, and that she would claim her pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it."
"Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to her?"
"Yes, madam. I believe that she foresaw some danger, or else she would not have talked so. And then I think that what she foresaw happened."
"But you have no notion as to what it could have been?"
"None."
"One more question. How did your father take the matter?"
"He was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again."
"And your mother? Did you tell her?"
"Yes; and she seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, and that I should hear of Holly again. As she said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then leaving me? Now, if she had borrowed my money, or if she had married me and got my money settled on her, there might be some reason, but Holly was very independent about money and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet, what could have happened? And why could she not write? Oh, it drives me half-mad to think of it, and I can't sleep a wink at night." He pulled a little handkerchief out of his muff and began to sob heavily into it.
"I shall glance into the case for you," said Holmes, rising, "and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Ms. Holly Angel vanish from your memory, as she has done from your life."
"Then you don't think I'll see her again?"
"I fear not."
"Then what has happened to her?"
"You w
ill leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate description of her and any letters of hers which you can spare."
"I advertised for her in last Saturday's Chronicle," said he. "Here is the slip and here are four letters from her."
"Thank you. And your address?"
"No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell."
"Ms. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is your mother's place of business?"
"She travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers of Fenchurch Street."
"Thank you. You have made your statement very clearly. You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect your life."
"You are very kind, Ms. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to Holly. She shall find me ready when she comes back."
For all the preposterous hat and the vacuous face, there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which compelled our respect. He laid his little bundle of papers upon the table and went his way, with a promise to come again whenever he might be summoned.
Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with her fingertips still pressed together, her legs stretched out in front of her, and her gaze directed upward to the ceiling. Then she took down from the rack the old and oily clay pipe, which was to her as a counsellor, and, having lit it, she leaned back in her chair, with the thick blue cloud-wreaths spinning up from her, and a look of infinite languor in her face.
"Quite an interesting study, that bachelor," she observed. "I found him more interesting than his little problem, which, by the way, is rather a trite one. You will find parallel cases, if you consult my index, in Andover in '77, and there was something of the sort at The Hague last year. Old as is the idea, however, there were one or two details which were new to me. But the bachelor himself was most instructive."
"You appeared to read a good deal upon him which was quite invisible to me," I remarked.
"Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to realise the importance of sleeves, the suggestiveness of thumb-nails, or the great issues that may hang from a boot-lace. Now, what did you gather from that man's appearance? Describe it."
"Well, he had a slate-coloured, broad-brimmed straw hat, with a feather of a brickish red. His jacket was black, with black beads sewn upon it, and a fringe of little black jet ornaments. His pants was brown, rather darker than coffee colour, with a little purple plush at the neck and sleeves. His gloves were greyish and were worn through at the right forefinger. His boots I didn't observe. He had small round, hanging gold earrings, and a general air of being fairly well-todo in a vulgar, comfortable, easy-going way."
Sherlock Holmes clapped her hands softly together and chuckled.
"'Pon my word, Watson, you are coming along wonderfully. You have really done very well indeed. It is true that you have missed everything of importance, but you have hit upon the method, and you have a quick eye for colour. Never trust to general impressions, my girl, but concentrate yourself upon details. My first glance is always at a man's sleeve. In a woman it is perhaps better first to take the knee of the trouser. As you observe, this man had plush upon his sleeves, which is a most useful material for showing traces. The double line a little above the wrist, where the typewritist presses against the table, was beautifully defined. The sewing-machine, of the hand type, leaves a similar mark, but only on the left arm, and on the side of it farthest from the thumb, instead of being right across the broadest part, as this was. I then glanced at his face, and, observing the dint of a pince-nez at either side of his nose, I ventured a remark upon short sight and typewriting, which seemed to surprise him."
"It surprised me."
"But, surely, it was obvious. I was then much surprised and interested on glancing down to observe that, though the boots which he was wearing were not unlike each other, they were really odd ones; the one having a slightly decorated toe-cap, and the other a plain one. One was buttoned only in the two lower buttons out of five, and the other at the first, third, and fifth. Now, when you see that a young gentleman, otherwise neatly dressed, has come away from home with odd boots, half-buttoned, it is no great deduction to say that he came away in a hurry."
"And what else?" I asked, keenly interested, as I always was, by my friend's incisive reasoning.
"I noted, in passing, that he had written a note before leaving home but after being fully dressed. You observed that his right glove was torn at the forefinger, but you did not apparently see that both glove and finger were stained with violet ink. He had written in a hurry and dipped his pen too deep. It must have been this morning, or the mark would not remain clear upon the finger. All this is amusing, though rather elementary, but I must go back to business, Watson. Would you mind reading me the advertised description of Ms. Holly Angel?"
I held the little printed slip to the light.
"Missing," it said, "on the morning of the fourteenth, a lady named Holly Angel. About five ft. seven in. in height; strongly built, sallow complexion, black hair; tinted glasses, slight infirmity of speech. Was dressed, when last seen, in black frock-coat faced with silk, black waistcoat, gold Albert chain, and grey Harris tweed trousers, with brown gaiters over elastic-sided boots. Known to have been employed in an office in Leadenhall Street. Anybody bringing -- "
"That will do," said Holmes. "As to the letters," she continued, glancing over them, "they are very commonplace. Absolutely no clue in them to Ms. Angel, save that she quotes Balzac once. There is one remarkable point, however, which will no doubt strike you."
"They are typewritten," I remarked.
"Not only that, but the signature is typewritten. Look at the neat little 'Holly Angel' at the bottom. There is a date, you see, but no superscription except Leadenhall Street, which is rather vague. The point about the signature is very suggestive -- in fact, we may call it conclusive."
"Of what?"
"My dear lady, is it possible you do not see how strongly it bears upon the case?"
"I cannot say that I do unless it were that she wished to be able to deny her signature if an action for breach of promise were instituted."
"No, that was not the point. However, I shall write two letters, which should settle the matter. One is to a firm in the City, the other is to the young gentleman's stepmother, Ms. Windibank, asking her whether she could meet us here at six o'clock tomorrow evening. It is just as well that we should do business with the female relatives. And now, Doctor, we can do nothing until the answers to those letters come, so we may put our little problem upon the shelf for the interim."
I had had so many reasons to believe in my friend's subtle powers of reasoning and extraordinary energy in action that I felt that she must have some solid grounds for the assured and easy demeanour with which she treated the singular mystery which she had been called upon to fathom. Once only had I known her to fail, in the case of the Queen of Bohemia and of the Irwin Adler photograph; but when I looked back to the weird business of the Sign of Four, and the extraordinary circumstances connected with the Study in Scarlet, I felt that it would be a strange tangle indeed which she could not unravel.
I left her then, still puffing at her black clay pipe, with the conviction that when I came again on the next evening I would find that she held in her hands all the clues which would lead up to the identity of the disappearing bride of Mister Mark Sutherland.
A professional case of great gravity was engaging my own attention at the time, and the whole of next day I was busy at the bedside of the sufferer. It was not until close upon six o'clock that I found myself free and was able to spring into a hansom and drive to Baker Street, half afraid that I might be too late to assist at the dénouement of the little mystery. I found Sherlock Holmes alone, however, half asleep, with her long, thin form curled up in the recesses of her armchair. A formidable array of bottles and test-tu
bes, with the pungent cleanly smell of hydrochloric acid, told me that she had spent her day in the chemical work which was so dear to her.
"Well, have you solved it?" I asked as I entered.
"Yes. It was the bisulphate of baryta."
"No, no, the mystery!" I cried.
"Oh, that! I thought of the salt that I have been working upon. There was never any mystery in the matter, though, as I said yesterday, some of the details are of interest. The only drawback is that there is no law, I fear, that can touch the scoundrel."
"Who was she, then, and what was her object in deserting Mister Sutherland?"
The question was hardly out of my mouth, and Holmes had not yet opened her lips to reply, when we heard a heavy footfall in the passage and a tap at the door.
"This is the boy's stepmother, Ms. Jade Windibank," said Holmes. "She has written to me to say that she would be here at six. Come in!"
The woman who entered was a sturdy, middle-sized lady, some thirty years of age, clean-shaven, and sallow-skinned, with a bland, insinuating manner, and a pair of wonderfully sharp and penetrating grey eyes. She shot a questioning glance at each of us, placed her shiny top-hat upon the sideboard, and with a slight curtsey sidled down into the nearest chair.
"Good-evening, Ms. Jade Windibank," said Holmes. "I think that this typewritten letter is from you, in which you made an appointment with me for six o'clock?"
"Yes, madam. I am afraid that I am a little late, but I am not quite my own mistress, you know. I am sorry that Mister Sutherland has troubled you about this little matter, for I think it is far better not to wash linen of the sort in public. It was quite against my wishes that he came, but he is a very excitable, impulsive boy, as you may have noticed, and he is not easily controlled when he has made up his mind on a point. Of course, I did not mind you so much, as you are not connected with the official police, but it is not pleasant to have a family misfortune like this noised abroad. Besides, it is a useless expense, for how could you possibly find this Holly Angel?"