                                 THE YELLOW FACE

     [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 reputations--for, indeed, it
     was when he was at his wits' 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 of which "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 when 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 five-fold 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 fore-finger, 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, self-contained 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 thought 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 half way 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 neighborly kind of things. 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 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 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 forwards 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 were that of a man or a woman. It had been too far from me for
     that. But its color 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 neighbor 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 things, 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 would 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 wits' 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 neighbors. 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 passed 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
     emotions. My companion sat silent 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 unnatural color, 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 any one 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 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 that 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 endeavors to buy them off. They come in
     spite of it, and when the husband mentions casually to the wife that
     there are new-comers 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 endeavor 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 neighbors 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 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. When 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
     had 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 high road 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 some one 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 lamp-light. 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, an 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
     neighbor, 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
     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 neighborhood. 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 over-confident 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."

