                       THE ADVENTURE OF THE COPPER BEECHES

     "To the man who loves art for its own sake," remarked Sherlock
     Holmes, tossing aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily Telegraph,
     "it is frequently in its least important and lowliest manifestations
     that the keenest pleasure is to be derived. It is pleasant to me to
     observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped this truth that in
     these little records of our cases which you have been good enough to
     draw up, and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have
     given prominence not so much to the many causes célèbres and
     sensational trials in which I have figured but rather to those
     incidents which may have been trivial in themselves, but which have
     given room for those faculties of deduction and of logical synthesis
     which I have made my special province."

     "And yet," said I, smiling, "I cannot quite hold myself absolved from
     the charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my
     records."

     "You have erred, perhaps," he observed, taking up a glowing cinder
     with the tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which
     was wont to replace his clay when he was in a disputatious rather
     than a meditative mood--"you have erred perhaps in attempting to put
     colour and life into each of your statements instead of confining
     yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe reasoning
     from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about
     the thing."

     "It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter," I
     remarked with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which
     I had more than once observed to be a strong factor in my friend's
     singular character.

     "No, it is not selfishness or conceit," said he, answering, as was
     his wont, my thoughts rather than my words. "If I claim full justice
     for my art, it is because it is an impersonal thing--a thing beyond
     myself. Crime is common. Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the
     logic rather than upon the crime that you should dwell. You have
     degraded what should have been a course of lectures into a series of
     tales."

     It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast
     on either side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A
     thick fog rolled down between the lines of dun-coloured houses, and
     the opposing windows loomed like dark, shapeless blurs through the
     heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and shone on the white cloth
     and glimmer of china and metal, for the table had not been cleared
     yet. Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping
     continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers
     until at last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged
     in no very sweet temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings.

     "At the same time," he remarked after a pause, during which he had
     sat puffing at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, "you can
     hardly be open to a charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases
     which you have been so kind as to interest yourself in, a fair
     proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal sense, at all. The
     small matter in which I endeavoured to help the King of Bohemia, the
     singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the problem connected
     with the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble
     bachelor, were all matters which are outside the pale of the law. But
     in avoiding the sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the
     trivial."

     "The end may have been so," I answered, "but the methods I hold to
     have been novel and of interest."

     "Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant
     public, who could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor
     by his left thumb, care about the finer shades of analysis and
     deduction! But, indeed, if you are trivial, I cannot blame you, for
     the days of the great cases are past. Man, or at least criminal man,
     has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own little
     practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering
     lost lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from
     boarding-schools. I think that I have touched bottom at last,
     however. This note I had this morning marks my zero-point, I fancy.
     Read it!" He tossed a crumpled letter across to me.

     It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran
     thus:

     Dear Mr. Holmes:
     I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or should not
     accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I shall
     call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not inconvenience you.
     Yours faithfully,
     Violet Hunter.

     "Do you know the young lady?" I asked.

     "Not I."

     "It is half-past ten now."

     "Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring."

     "It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember
     that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere
     whim at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so
     in this case, also."

     "Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for
     here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question."

     As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She
     was plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled
     like a plover's egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had
     her own way to make in the world.

     "You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure," said she, as my
     companion rose to greet her, "but I have had a very strange
     experience, and as I have no parents or relations of any sort from
     whom I could ask advice, I thought that perhaps you would be kind
     enough to tell me what I should do."

     "Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that
     I can to serve you."

     I could see that Holmes was favourably impressed by the manner and
     speech of his new client. He looked her over in his searching
     fashion, and then composed himself, with his lids drooping and his
     finger-tips together, to listen to her story.

     "I have been a governess for five years," said she, "in the family of
     Colonel Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an
     appointment at Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his children over to
     America with him, so that I found myself without a situation. I
     advertised, and I answered advertisements, but without success. At
     last the little money which I had saved began to run short, and I was
     at my wit's end as to what I should do.

     "There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called
     Westaway's, and there I used to call about once a week in order to
     see whether anything had turned up which might suit me. Westaway was
     the name of the founder of the business, but it is really managed by
     Miss Stoper. She sits in her own little office, and the ladies who
     are seeking employment wait in an anteroom, and are then shown in one
     by one, when she consults her ledgers and sees whether she has
     anything which would suit them.

     "Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office as
     usual, but I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A prodigiously
     stout man with a very smiling face and a great heavy chin which
     rolled down in fold upon fold over his throat sat at her elbow with a
     pair of glasses on his nose, looking very earnestly at the ladies who
     entered. As I came in he gave quite a jump in his chair and turned
     quickly to Miss Stoper.

     "'That will do,' said he; 'I could not ask for anything better.
     Capital! capital!' He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his hands
     together in the most genial fashion. He was such a
     comfortable-looking man that it was quite a pleasure to look at him.

     "'You are looking for a situation, miss?' he asked.

     "'Yes, sir.'

     "'As governess?'

     "'Yes, sir.'

     "'And what salary do you ask?'

     "'I had £4 a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.'

     "'Oh, tut, tut! sweating--rank sweating!' he cried, throwing his fat
     hands out into the air like a man who is in a boiling passion. 'How
     could anyone offer so pitiful a sum to a lady with such attractions
     and accomplishments?'

     "'My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,' said I. 'A
     little French, a little German, music, and drawing--'

     "'Tut, tut!' he cried. 'This is all quite beside the question. The
     point is, have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a
     lady? There it is in a nutshell. If you have not, you are not fitted
     for the rearing of a child who may some day play a considerable part
     in the history of the country. But if you have why, then, how could
     any gentleman ask you to condescend to accept anything under the
     three figures? Your salary with me, madam, would commence at £100 a
     year.'

     "You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, such an
     offer seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, however,
     seeing perhaps the look of incredulity upon my face, opened a
     pocket-book and took out a note.

     "'It is also my custom,' said he, smiling in the most pleasant
     fashion until his eyes were just two little shining slits amid the
     white creases of his face, 'to advance to my young ladies half their
     salary beforehand, so that they may meet any little expenses of their
     journey and their wardrobe.'

     "It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so
     thoughtful a man. As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the
     advance was a great convenience, and yet there was something
     unnatural about the whole transaction which made me wish to know a
     little more before I quite committed myself.

     "'May I ask where you live, sir?' said I.

     "'Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles on
     the far side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dear
     young lady, and the dearest old country-house.'

     "'And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.'

     "'One child--one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if you
     could see him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! smack!
     smack! Three gone before you could wink!' He leaned back in his chair
     and laughed his eyes into his head again.

     "I was a little startled at the nature of the child's amusement, but
     the father's laughter made me think that perhaps he was joking.

     "'My sole duties, then,' I asked, 'are to take charge of a single
     child?'

     "'No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,' he cried.
     'Your duty would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to
     obey any little commands my wife might give, provided always that
     they were such commands as a lady might with propriety obey. You see
     no difficulty, heh?'

     "'I should be happy to make myself useful.'

     "'Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you
     know--faddy but kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress
     which we might give you, you would not object to our little whim.
     Heh?'

     "'No,' said I, considerably astonished at his words.

     "'Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?'

     "'Oh, no.'

     "'Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?'

     "I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, my
     hair is somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of
     chestnut. It has been considered artistic. I could not dream of
     sacrificing it in this offhand fashion.

     "'I am afraid that that is quite impossible,' said I. He had been
     watching me eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a shadow
     pass over his face as I spoke.

     "'I am afraid that it is quite essential,' said he. 'It is a little
     fancy of my wife's, and ladies' fancies, you know, madam, ladies'
     fancies must be consulted. And so you won't cut your hair?'

     "'No, sir, I really could not,' I answered firmly.

     "'Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a pity,
     because in other respects you would really have done very nicely. In
     that case, Miss Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young
     ladies.'

     "The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers without a
     word to either of us, but she glanced at me now with so much
     annoyance upon her face that I could not help suspecting that she had
     lost a handsome commission through my refusal.

     "'Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?' she asked.

     "'If you please, Miss Stoper.'

     "'Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the most
     excellent offers in this fashion,' said she sharply. 'You can hardly
     expect us to exert ourselves to find another such opening for you.
     Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.' She struck a gong upon the table, and
     I was shown out by the page.

     "Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found little
     enough in the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the table. I
     began to ask myself whether I had not done a very foolish thing.
     After all, if these people had strange fads and expected obedience on
     the most extraordinary matters, they were at least ready to pay for
     their eccentricity. Very few governesses in England are getting £100
     a year. Besides, what use was my hair to me? Many people are improved
     by wearing it short and perhaps I should be among the number. Next
     day I was inclined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the day
     after I was sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to
     go back to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open
     when I received this letter from the gentleman himself. I have it
     here and I will read it to you:

     "'The Copper Beeches, near Winchester.
     "'Dear Miss Hunter:
     "'Miss Stoper has very kindly given me your address, and I write from
     here to ask you whether you have reconsidered your decision. My wife
     is very anxious that you should come, for she has been much attracted
     by my description of you. We are willing to give £30 a quarter, or
     £120 a year, so as to recompense you for any little inconvenience
     which our fads may cause you. They are not very exacting, after all.
     My wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would like
     you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning. You need not,
     however, go to the expense of purchasing one, as we have one
     belonging to my dear daughter Alice (now in Philadelphia), which
     would, I should think, fit you very well. Then, as to sitting here or
     there, or amusing yourself in any manner indicated, that need cause
     you no inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no doubt a pity,
     especially as I could not help remarking its beauty during our short
     interview, but I am afraid that I must remain firm upon this point,
     and I only hope that the increased salary may recompense you for the
     loss. Your duties, as far as the child is concerned, are very light.
     Now do try to come, and I shall meet you with the dog-cart at
     Winchester. Let me know your train.
     "'Yours faithfully,
     "'Jephro Rucastle.'

     "That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and my
     mind is made up that I will accept it. I thought, however, that
     before taking the final step I should like to submit the whole matter
     to your consideration."

     "Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the
     question," said Holmes, smiling.

     "But you would not advise me to refuse?"

     "I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a
     sister of mine apply for."

     "What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?"

     "Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed
     some opinion?"

     "Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr.
     Rucastle seemed to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not
     possible that his wife is a lunatic, that he desires to keep the
     matter quiet for fear she should be taken to an asylum, and that he
     humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent an outbreak?"

     "That is a possible solution--in fact, as matters stand, it is the
     most probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nice
     household for a young lady."

     "But the money, Mr. Holmes, the money!"

     "Well, yes, of course the pay is good--too good. That is what makes
     me uneasy. Why should they give you £120 a year, when they could have
     their pick for £40? There must be some strong reason behind."

     "I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand
     afterwards if I wanted your help. I should feel so much stronger if I
     felt that you were at the back of me."

     "Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that your
     little problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my
     way for some months. There is something distinctly novel about some
     of the features. If you should find yourself in doubt or in danger--"

     "Danger! What danger do you foresee?"

     Holmes shook his head gravely. "It would cease to be a danger if we
     could define it," said he. "But at any time, day or night, a telegram
     would bring me down to your help."

     "That is enough." She rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety
     all swept from her face. "I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in
     my mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor
     hair to-night, and start for Winchester to-morrow." With a few
     grateful words to Holmes she bade us both good-night and bustled off
     upon her way.

     "At least," said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending the
     stairs, "she seems to be a young lady who is very well able to take
     care of herself."

     "And she would need to be," said Holmes gravely. "I am much mistaken
     if we do not hear from her before many days are past."

     It was not very long before my friend's prediction was fulfilled. A
     fortnight went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts
     turning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley of
     human experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusual
     salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed to
     something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the
     man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers
     to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat frequently for
     half an hour on end, with knitted brows and an abstracted air, but he
     swept the matter away with a wave of his hand when I mentioned it.
     "Data! data! data!" he cried impatiently. "I can't make bricks
     without clay." And yet he would always wind up by muttering that no
     sister of his should ever have accepted such a situation.

     The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as
     I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of
     those all-night chemical researches which he frequently indulged in,
     when I would leave him stooping over a retort and a test-tube at
     night and find him in the same position when I came down to breakfast
     in the morning. He opened the yellow envelope, and then, glancing at
     the message, threw it across to me.

     "Just look up the trains in Bradshaw," said he, and turned back to
     his chemical studies.

     The summons was a brief and urgent one.

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

     "Will you come with me?" asked Holmes, glancing up.

     "I should wish to."

     "Just look it up, then."

     "There is a train at half-past nine," said I, glancing over my
     Bradshaw. "It is due at Winchester at 11.30."

     "That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my
     analysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the
     morning."

     By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old
     English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the
     way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them
     down and began to admire the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a
     light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy white clouds drifting
     across from west to east. The sun was shining very brightly, and yet
     there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge to a
     man's energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills
     around Aldershot, the little red and grey roofs of the farm-steadings
     peeped out from amid the light green of the new foliage.

     "Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all the enthusiasm
     of a man fresh from the fogs of Baker Street.

     But Holmes shook his head gravely.

     "Do you know, Watson," said he, "that it is one of the curses of a
     mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything with
     reference to my own special subject. You look at these scattered
     houses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them, and
     the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of their isolation
     and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there."

     "Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with these dear
     old homesteads?"

     "They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson,
     founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in
     London do not present a more dreadful record of sin than does the
     smiling and beautiful countryside."

     "You horrify me!"

     "But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can
     do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so
     vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's
     blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation among the neighbours,
     and then the whole machinery of justice is ever so close that a word
     of complaint can set it going, and there is but a step between the
     crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in its own
     fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know
     little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden
     wickedness which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and
     none the wiser. Had this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live
     in Winchester, I should never have had a fear for her. It is the five
     miles of country which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she
     is not personally threatened."

     "No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away."

     "Quite so. She has her freedom."

     "What can be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?"

     "I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would
     cover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct
     can only be determined by the fresh information which we shall no
     doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral,
     and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter has to tell."

     The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance
     from the station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us.
     She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the
     table.

     "I am so delighted that you have come," she said earnestly. "It is so
     very kind of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do.
     Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me."

     "Pray tell us what has happened to you."

     "I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. Rucastle
     to be back before three. I got his leave to come into town this
     morning, though he little knew for what purpose."

     "Let us have everything in its due order." Holmes thrust his long
     thin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen.

     "In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no
     actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fair to
     them to say that. But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in
     my mind about them."

     "What can you not understand?"

     "Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just as
     it occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and drove me
     in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully
     situated, but it is not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square
     block of a house, whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp
     and bad weather. There are grounds round it, woods on three sides,
     and on the fourth a field which slopes down to the Southampton
     highroad, which curves past about a hundred yards from the front
     door. This ground in front belongs to the house, but the woods all
     round are part of Lord Southerton's preserves. A clump of copper
     beeches immediately in front of the hall door has given its name to
     the place.

     "I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and
     was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. There
     was no truth, Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be
     probable in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I
     found her to be a silent, pale-faced woman, much younger than her
     husband, not more than thirty, I should think, while he can hardly be
     less than forty-five. From their conversation I have gathered that
     they have been married about seven years, that he was a widower, and
     that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has gone
     to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why
     she had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her
     stepmother. As the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I
     can quite imagine that her position must have been uncomfortable with
     her father's young wife.

     "Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well as in
     feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse. She was
     a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionately devoted
     both to her husband and to her little son. Her light grey eyes
     wandered continually from one to the other, noting every little want
     and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her also in his
     bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a happy
     couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would
     often be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face.
     More than once I have surprised her in tears. I have thought
     sometimes that it was the disposition of her child which weighed upon
     her mind, for I have never met so utterly spoiled and so ill-natured
     a little creature. He is small for his age, with a head which is
     quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to be spent in
     an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals of
     sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be
     his one idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in
     planning the capture of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would
     rather not talk about the creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has
     little to do with my story."

     "I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem to
     you to be relevant or not."

     "I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant
     thing about the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance
     and conduct of the servants. There are only two, a man and his wife.
     Toller, for that is his name, is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled
     hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell of drink. Twice since I have
     been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed
     to take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong woman
     with a sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable.
     They are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my
     time in the nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in
     one corner of the building.

     "For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very
     quiet; on the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and
     whispered something to her husband.

     "'Oh, yes,' said he, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you,
     Miss Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your
     hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from
     your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-blue dress will
     become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed in your room, and
     if you would be so good as to put it on we should both be extremely
     obliged.'

     "The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of
     blue. It was of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore
     unmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not have been
     a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs.
     Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of it, which seemed quite
     exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for me in the
     drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching along the entire
     front of the house, with three long windows reaching down to the
     floor. A chair had been placed close to the central window, with its
     back turned towards it. In this I was asked to sit, and then Mr.
     Rucastle, walking up and down on the other side of the room, began to
     tell me a series of the funniest stories that I have ever listened
     to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I laughed until I was
     quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of
     humour, never so much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap,
     and a sad, anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr.
     Rucastle suddenly remarked that it was time to commence the duties of
     the day, and that I might change my dress and go to little Edward in
     the nursery.

     "Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly
     similar circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the
     window, and again I laughed very heartily at the funny stories of
     which my employer had an immense répertoire, and which he told
     inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed novel, and moving my
     chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall upon the
     page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten
     minutes, beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in
     the middle of a sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my
     dress.

     "You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what
     the meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They
     were always very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the
     window, so that I became consumed with the desire to see what was
     going on behind my back. At first it seemed to be impossible, but I
     soon devised a means. My hand-mirror had been broken, so a happy
     thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the glass in my
     handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I
     put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able with a little
     management to see all that there was behind me. I confess that I was
     disappointed. There was nothing. At least that was my first
     impression. At the second glance, however, I perceived that there was
     a man standing in the Southampton Road, a small bearded man in a grey
     suit, who seemed to be looking in my direction. The road is an
     important highway, and there are usually people there. This man,
     however, was leaning against the railings which bordered our field
     and was looking earnestly up. I lowered my handkerchief and glanced
     at Mrs. Rucastle to find her eyes fixed upon me with a most searching
     gaze. She said nothing, but I am convinced that she had divined that
     I had a mirror in my hand and had seen what was behind me. She rose
     at once.

     "'Jephro,' said she, 'there is an impertinent fellow upon the road
     there who stares up at Miss Hunter.'

     "'No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?' he asked.

     "'No, I know no one in these parts.'

     "'Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to him
     to go away.'

     "'Surely it would be better to take no notice.'

     "'No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn round
     and wave him away like that.'

     "I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew down
     the blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat
     again in the window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man
     in the road."

     "Pray continue," said Holmes. "Your narrative promises to be a most
     interesting one."

     "You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to
     be little relation between the different incidents of which I speak.
     On the very first day that I was at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle
     took me to a small outhouse which stands near the kitchen door. As we
     approached it I heard the sharp rattling of a chain, and the sound as
     of a large animal moving about.

     "'Look in here!' said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two
     planks. 'Is he not a beauty?'

     "I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a
     vague figure huddled up in the darkness.

     "'Don't be frightened,' said my employer, laughing at the start which
     I had given. 'It's only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but
     really old Toller, my groom, is the only man who can do anything with
     him. We feed him once a day, and not too much then, so that he is
     always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him loose every night, and God
     help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For goodness' sake
     don't you ever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold at
     night, for it's as much as your life is worth.'

     "The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look
     out of my bedroom window about two o'clock in the morning. It was a
     beautiful moonlight night, and the lawn in front of the house was
     silvered over and almost as bright as day. I was standing, rapt in
     the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I was aware that something was
     moving under the shadow of the copper beeches. As it emerged into the
     moonshine I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large as a calf,
     tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting
     bones. It walked slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow
     upon the other side. That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart
     which I do not think that any burglar could have done.

     "And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as you
     know, cut off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great coil
     at the bottom of my trunk. One evening, after the child was in bed, I
     began to amuse myself by examining the furniture of my room and by
     rearranging my own little things. There was an old chest of drawers
     in the room, the two upper ones empty and open, the lower one locked.
     I had filled the first two with my linen, and as I had still much to
     pack away I was naturally annoyed at not having the use of the third
     drawer. It struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere
     oversight, so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The
     very first key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open.
     There was only one thing in it, but I am sure that you would never
     guess what it was. It was my coil of hair.

     "I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, and
     the same thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing obtruded
     itself upon me. How could my hair have been locked in the drawer?
     With trembling hands I undid my trunk, turned out the contents, and
     drew from the bottom my own hair. I laid the two tresses together,
     and I assure you that they were identical. Was it not extraordinary?
     Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant. I
     returned the strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the
     matter to the Rucastles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong
     by opening a drawer which they had locked.

     "I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, and
     I soon had a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. There
     was one wing, however, which appeared not to be inhabited at all. A
     door which faced that which led into the quarters of the Tollers
     opened into this suite, but it was invariably locked. One day,
     however, as I ascended the stair, I met Mr. Rucastle coming out
     through this door, his keys in his hand, and a look on his face which
     made him a very different person to the round, jovial man to whom I
     was accustomed. His cheeks were red, his brow was all crinkled with
     anger, and the veins stood out at his temples with passion. He locked
     the door and hurried past me without a word or a look.

     "This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the
     grounds with my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I
     could see the windows of this part of the house. There were four of
     them in a row, three of which were simply dirty, while the fourth was
     shuttered up. They were evidently all deserted. As I strolled up and
     down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr. Rucastle came out to me,
     looking as merry and jovial as ever.

     "'Ah!' said he, 'you must not think me rude if I passed you without a
     word, my dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters.'

     "I assured him that I was not offended. 'By the way,' said I, 'you
     seem to have quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them
     has the shutters up.'

     "He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my
     remark.

     "'Photography is one of my hobbies,' said he. 'I have made my dark
     room up there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we have
     come upon. Who would have believed it? Who would have ever believed
     it?' He spoke in a jesting tone, but there was no jest in his eyes as
     he looked at me. I read suspicion there and annoyance, but no jest.

     "Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there was
     something about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, I was
     all on fire to go over them. It was not mere curiosity, though I have
     my share of that. It was more a feeling of duty--a feeling that some
     good might come from my penetrating to this place. They talk of
     woman's instinct; perhaps it was woman's instinct which gave me that
     feeling. At any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the lookout
     for any chance to pass the forbidden door.

     "It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that,
     besides Mr. Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to do
     in these deserted rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large black
     linen bag with him through the door. Recently he has been drinking
     hard, and yesterday evening he was very drunk; and when I came
     upstairs there was the key in the door. I have no doubt at all that
     he had left it there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both downstairs, and
     the child was with them, so that I had an admirable opportunity. I
     turned the key gently in the lock, opened the door, and slipped
     through.

     "There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted,
     which turned at a right angle at the farther end. Round this corner
     were three doors in a line, the first and third of which were open.
     They each led into an empty room, dusty and cheerless, with two
     windows in the one and one in the other, so thick with dirt that the
     evening light glimmered dimly through them. The centre door was
     closed, and across the outside of it had been fastened one of the
     broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a ring in the
     wall, and fastened at the other with stout cord. The door itself was
     locked as well, and the key was not there. This barricaded door
     corresponded clearly with the shuttered window outside, and yet I
     could see by the glimmer from beneath it that the room was not in
     darkness. Evidently there was a skylight which let in light from
     above. As I stood in the passage gazing at the sinister door and
     wondering what secret it might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of
     steps within the room and saw a shadow pass backward and forward
     against the little slit of dim light which shone out from under the
     door. A mad, unreasoning terror rose up in me at the sight, Mr.
     Holmes. My overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and I turned and
     ran--ran as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at the
     skirt of my dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, and
     straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting outside.

     "'So,' said he, smiling, 'it was you, then. I thought that it must be
     when I saw the door open.'

     "'Oh, I am so frightened!' I panted.

     "'My dear young lady! my dear young lady!'--you cannot think how
     caressing and soothing his manner was--'and what has frightened you,
     my dear young lady?'

     "But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was
     keenly on my guard against him.

     "'I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,' I answered. 'But
     it is so lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and
     ran out again. Oh, it is so dreadfully still in there!'

     "'Only that?' said he, looking at me keenly.

     "'Why, what did you think?' I asked.

     "'Why do you think that I lock this door?'

     "'I am sure that I do not know.'

     "'It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you see?'
     He was still smiling in the most amiable manner.

     "'I am sure if I had known--'

     "'Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that
     threshold again'--here in an instant the smile hardened into a grin
     of rage, and he glared down at me with the face of a demon--'I'll
     throw you to the mastiff.'

     "I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that I
     must have rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing until I
     found myself lying on my bed trembling all over. Then I thought of
     you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live there longer without some advice. I
     was frightened of the house, of the man, of the woman, of the
     servants, even of the child. They were all horrible to me. If I could
     only bring you down all would be well. Of course I might have fled
     from the house, but my curiosity was almost as strong as my fears. My
     mind was soon made up. I would send you a wire. I put on my hat and
     cloak, went down to the office, which is about half a mile from the
     house, and then returned, feeling very much easier. A horrible doubt
     came into my mind as I approached the door lest the dog might be
     loose, but I remembered that Toller had drunk himself into a state of
     insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one in
     the household who had any influence with the savage creature, or who
     would venture to set him free. I slipped in in safety and lay awake
     half the night in my joy at the thought of seeing you. I had no
     difficulty in getting leave to come into Winchester this morning, but
     I must be back before three o'clock, for Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are
     going on a visit, and will be away all the evening, so that I must
     look after the child. Now I have told you all my adventures, Mr.
     Holmes, and I should be very glad if you could tell me what it all
     means, and, above all, what I should do."

     Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. My
     friend rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in his
     pockets, and an expression of the most profound gravity upon his
     face.

     "Is Toller still drunk?" he asked.

     "Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do nothing
     with him."

     "That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?"

     "Yes."

     "Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?"

     "Yes, the wine-cellar."

     "You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very
     brave and sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could
     perform one more feat? I should not ask it of you if I did not think
     you a quite exceptional woman."

     "I will try. What is it?"

     "We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o'clock, my friend and I.
     The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be
     incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm.
     If you could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn
     the key upon her, you would facilitate matters immensely."

     "I will do it."

     "Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of course
     there is only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there
     to personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this
     chamber. That is obvious. As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt
     that it is the daughter, Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right,
     who was said to have gone to America. You were chosen, doubtless, as
     resembling her in height, figure, and the colour of your hair. Hers
     had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she has
     passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a
     curious chance you came upon her tresses. The man in the road was
     undoubtedly some friend of hers--possibly her fiancé--and no doubt,
     as you wore the girl's dress and were so like her, he was convinced
     from your laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your
     gesture, that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no
     longer desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to
     prevent him from endeavouring to communicate with her. So much is
     fairly clear. The most serious point in the case is the disposition
     of the child."

     "What on earth has that to do with it?" I ejaculated.

     "My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light
     as to the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don't
     you see that the converse is equally valid. I have frequently gained
     my first real insight into the character of parents by studying their
     children. This child's disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for
     cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this from his smiling father,
     as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil for the poor
     girl who is in their power."

     "I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes," cried our client. "A
     thousand things come back to me which make me certain that you have
     hit it. Oh, let us lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor
     creature."

     "We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning man.
     We can do nothing until seven o'clock. At that hour we shall be with
     you, and it will not be long before we solve the mystery."

     We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached
     the Copper Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside public-house.
     The group of trees, with their dark leaves shining like burnished
     metal in the light of the setting sun, were sufficient to mark the
     house even had Miss Hunter not been standing smiling on the
     door-step.

     "Have you managed it?" asked Holmes.

     A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. "That is Mrs.
     Toller in the cellar," said she. "Her husband lies snoring on the
     kitchen rug. Here are his keys, which are the duplicates of Mr.
     Rucastle's."

     "You have done well indeed!" cried Holmes with enthusiasm. "Now lead
     the way, and we shall soon see the end of this black business."

     We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a
     passage, and found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss
     Hunter had described. Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse
     bar. Then he tried the various keys in the lock, but without success.
     No sound came from within, and at the silence Holmes' face clouded
     over.

     "I trust that we are not too late," said he. "I think, Miss Hunter,
     that we had better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder
     to it, and we shall see whether we cannot make our way in."

     It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united
     strength. Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There was
     no furniture save a little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful
     of linen. The skylight above was open, and the prisoner gone.

     "There has been some villainy here," said Holmes; "this beauty has
     guessed Miss Hunter's intentions and has carried his victim off."

     "But how?"

     "Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it." He swung
     himself up onto the roof. "Ah, yes," he cried, "here's the end of a
     long light ladder against the eaves. That is how he did it."

     "But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not there
     when the Rucastles went away."

     "He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and
     dangerous man. I should not be very much surprised if this were he
     whose step I hear now upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would
     be as well for you to have your pistol ready."

     The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the
     door of the room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stick in his
     hand. Miss Hunter screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight
     of him, but Sherlock Holmes sprang forward and confronted him.

     "You villain!" said he, "where's your daughter?"

     The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open skylight.

     "It is for me to ask you that," he shrieked, "you thieves! Spies and
     thieves! I have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I'll serve
     you!" He turned and clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go.

     "He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter.

     "I have my revolver," said I.

     "Better close the front door," cried Holmes, and we all rushed down
     the stairs together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the
     baying of a hound, and then a scream of agony, with a horrible
     worrying sound which it was dreadful to listen to. An elderly man
     with a red face and shaking limbs came staggering out at a side door.

     "My God!" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed
     for two days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"

     Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller
     hurrying behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black
     muzzle buried in Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed
     upon the ground. Running up, I blew its brains out, and it fell over
     with its keen white teeth still meeting in the great creases of his
     neck. With much labour we separated them and carried him, living but
     horribly mangled, into the house. We laid him upon the drawing-room
     sofa, and having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to
     his wife, I did what I could to relieve his pain. We were all
     assembled round him when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt woman
     entered the room.

     "Mrs. Toller!" cried Miss Hunter.

     "Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went
     up to you. Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you
     were planning, for I would have told you that your pains were
     wasted."

     "Ha!" said Holmes, looking keenly at her. "It is clear that Mrs.
     Toller knows more about this matter than anyone else."

     "Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know."

     "Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several
     points on which I must confess that I am still in the dark."

     "I will soon make it clear to you," said she; "and I'd have done so
     before now if I could ha' got out from the cellar. If there's
     police-court business over this, you'll remember that I was the one
     that stood your friend, and that I was Miss Alice's friend too.

     "She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn't, from the time that
     her father married again. She was slighted like and had no say in
     anything, but it never really became bad for her until after she met
     Mr. Fowler at a friend's house. As well as I could learn, Miss Alice
     had rights of her own by will, but she was so quiet and patient, she
     was, that she never said a word about them but just left everything
     in Mr. Rucastle's hands. He knew he was safe with her; but when there
     was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that
     the law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop
     on it. He wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or
     not, he could use her money. When she wouldn't do it, he kept on
     worrying her until she got brain-fever, and for six weeks was at
     death's door. Then she got better at last, all worn to a shadow, and
     with her beautiful hair cut off; but that didn't make no change in
     her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man could be."

     "Ah," said Holmes, "I think that what you have been good enough to
     tell us makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that
     remains. Mr. Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of
     imprisonment?"

     "Yes, sir."

     "And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the
     disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler."

     "That was it, sir."

     "But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be,
     blockaded the house, and having met you succeeded by certain
     arguments, metallic or otherwise, in convincing you that your
     interests were the same as his."

     "Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman," said Mrs.
     Toller serenely.

     "And in this way he managed that your good man should have no want of
     drink, and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your
     master had gone out."

     "You have it, sir, just as it happened."

     "I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller," said Holmes, "for you
     have certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And here comes
     the country surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think, Watson, that we
     had best escort Miss Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me
     that our locus standi now is rather a questionable one."

     And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper
     beeches in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a
     broken man, kept alive solely through the care of his devoted wife.
     They still live with their old servants, who probably know so much of
     Rucastle's past life that he finds it difficult to part from them.
     Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by special license, in
     Southampton the day after their flight, and he is now the holder of a
     government appointment in the island of Mauritius. As to Miss Violet
     Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no
     further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of
     one of his problems, and she is now the head of a private school at
     Walsall, where I believe that she has met with considerable success.
