"Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you thatyour little problem promises to be the most interesting which hascome my way for some months. There is something distinctly novelabout some of the features. If you should find yourself in doubtor in danger--"
"Danger! What danger do you foresee?"
Holmes shook his head gravely. "It would cease to be a danger ifwe could define it," said he. "But at any time, day or night, atelegram would bring me down to your help."
"That is enough." She rose briskly from her chair with theanxiety all swept from her face. "I shall go down to Hampshirequite easy in my mind now. I shall write to Mr. Rucastle at once,sacrifice my poor hair to-night, and start for Winchesterto-morrow." With a few grateful words to Holmes she bade us bothgood-night and bustled off upon her way.
"At least," said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descendingthe stairs, "she seems to be a young lady who is very well ableto take care of herself."
"And she would need to be," said Holmes gravely. "I am muchmistaken 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 thoughtsturning in her direction and wondering what strange side-alley ofhuman experience this lonely woman had strayed into. The unusualsalary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all pointed tosomething abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whetherthe man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyondmy powers to determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he satfrequently for half an hour on end, with knitted brows and anabstracted air, but he swept the matter away with a wave of hishand when I mentioned it. "Data! data! data!" he criedimpatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay." And yet he wouldalways wind up by muttering that no sister of his should everhave accepted such a situation.
The telegram which we eventually received came late one nightjust as I was thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling downto one of those all-night chemical researches which he frequentlyindulged in, when I would leave him stooping over a retort and atest-tube at night and find him in the same position when I camedown 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 backto his chemical studies.
The summons was a brief and urgent one.
"Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at middayto-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 myBradshaw. "It is due at Winchester at 11:30."
"That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone myanalysis of the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in themorning."
By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to theold English capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papersall the way down, but after we had passed the Hampshire border hethrew them down and began to admire the scenery. It was an idealspring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little fleecy whiteclouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shiningvery 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 andgrey roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from amid the lightgreen of the new foliage.
"Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all theenthusiasm 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 ofa mind with a turn like mine that I must look at everything withreference to my own special subject. You look at these scatteredhouses, and you are impressed by their beauty. I look at them,and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of theirisolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committedthere."
"Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with thesedear old homesteads?"
"They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief,Watson, founded upon my experience, that the lowest and vilestalleys in London do not present a more dreadful record of sinthan does the smiling and beautiful countryside."
"You horrify me!"
"But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinioncan do in the town what the law cannot accomplish. There is nolane so vile that the scream of a tortured child, or the thud ofa drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy and indignation amongthe neighbours, and then the whole machinery of justice is everso close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there isbut a step between the crime and the dock. But look at theselonely houses, each in its own fields, filled for the most partwith poor ignorant folk who know little of the law. Think of thedeeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness which may go on,year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had thislady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, Ishould never have had a fear for her. It is the five miles ofcountry which makes the danger. Still, it is clear that she isnot 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 wouldcover the facts as far as we know them. But which of these iscorrect can only be determined by the fresh information which weshall no doubt find waiting for us. Well, there is the tower ofthe cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that Miss Hunter hasto tell."
The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at nodistance from the station, and there we found the young ladywaiting for us. She had engaged a sitting-room, and our lunchawaited us upon the table.