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ElapticAI-512

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is no human eye which could have seen the deed. What would he do then?
It would of course instantly strike him that he must get rid of the
tell-tale garments. He would seize the coat, then, and be in the act of
throwing it out, when it would occur to him that it would swim and not
sink. He has little time, for he has heard the scuffle downstairs when
the wife tried to force her way up, and perhaps he has already heard
from his Lascar confederate that the police are hurrying up the street.
There is not an instant to be lost. He rushes to some secret hoard,
where he has accumulated the fruits of his beggary, and he stuffs all
the coins upon which he can lay his hands into the pockets to make sure
of the coat’s sinking. He throws it out, and would have done the same
with the other garments had not he heard the rush of steps below, and
only just had time to close the window when the police appeared.
“It certainly sounds feasible.
“Well, we will take it as a working hypothesis for want of a better.
Boone, as I have told you, was arrested and taken to the station, but
it could not be shown that there had ever before been anything against
him. He had for years been known as a professional beggar, but his life
appeared to have been a very quiet and innocent one. There the matter
stands at present, and the questions which have to be solved—what
Neville St. Clair was doing in the opium den, what happened to him when
there, where is he now, and what Hugh Boone had to do with his
disappearance—are all as far from a solution as ever. I confess that I
cannot recall any case within my experience which looked at the first
glance so simple and yet which presented such difficulties.
While Sherlock Holmes had been detailing this singular series of
events, we had been whirling through the outskirts of the great town
until the last straggling houses had been left behind, and we rattled
along with a country hedge upon either side of us. Just as he finished,
however, we drove through two scattered villages, where a few lights
still glimmered in the windows.
“We are on the outskirts of Lee, said my companion. “We have touched
on three English counties in our short drive, starting in Middlesex,
passing over an angle of Surrey, and ending in Kent. See that light
among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside that lamp sits a woman
whose anxious ears have already, I have little doubt, caught the clink
of our horse’s feet.
“But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street? I asked.
“Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. Mrs. St.
Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and you may rest
assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for my friend and
colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have no news of her
husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!
We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own
grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse’s head, and springing
down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding gravel-drive which led to
the house. As we approached, the door flew open, and a little blonde
woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort of light mousseline de
soie, with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She
stood with her figure outlined against the flood of light, one hand
upon the door, one half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly
bent, her head and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a
standing question.
“Well? she cried, “well? And then, seeing that there were two of us,
she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw that my
companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
“No good news?
“None.
“No bad?
“No.
“Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have had a
long day.
“This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to me in
several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it possible for me to
bring him out and associate him with this investigation.
“I am delighted to see you, said she, pressing my hand warmly. “You
will, I am sure, forgive anything that may be wanting in our
arrangements, when you consider the blow which has come so suddenly
upon us.
“My dear madam, said I, “I am an old campaigner, and if I were not I
can very well see that no apology is needed. If I can be of any
assistance, either to you or to my friend here, I shall be indeed
happy.
“Now, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, said the lady as we entered a well-lit
dining-room, upon the table of which a cold supper had been laid out,
“I should very much like to ask you one or two plain questions, to
which I beg that you will give a plain answer.
“Certainly, madam.
“Do not trouble about my feelings. I am not hysterical, nor given to
fainting. I simply wish to hear your real, real opinion.