The Professor blew a cloud from his lips. "This is most interesting andinstructive," said he. "Have you no more to add? Surely, having tracedthis lady so far, you can also say what has become of her."
"I will endeavour to do so. In the first place she was seized by yoursecretary, and stabbed him in order to escape. This catastrophe I aminclined to regard as an unhappy accident, for I am convinced that thelady had no intention of inflicting so grievous an injury. An assassindoes not come unarmed. Horrified by what she had done she rushed wildlyaway from the scene of the tragedy. Unfortunately for her she had losther glasses in the scuffle, and as she was extremely short-sighted shewas really helpless without them. She ran down a corridor, which sheimagined to be that by which she had come--both were lined with cocoanutmatting--and it was only when it was too late that she understood thatshe had taken the wrong passage and that her retreat was cut off behindher. What was she to do? She could not go back. She could not remainwhere she was. She must go on. She went on. She mounted a stair, pushedopen a door, and found herself in your room."
The old man sat with his mouth open staring wildly at Holmes. Amazementand fear were stamped upon his expressive features. Now, with an effort,he shrugged his shoulders and burst into insincere laughter.
"All very fine, Mr. Holmes," said he. "But there is one little flawin your splendid theory. I was myself in my room, and I never left itduring the day."
"I am aware of that, Professor Coram."
"And you mean to say that I could lie upon that bed and not be awarethat a woman had entered my room?"
"I never said so. You WERE aware of it. You spoke with her. Yourecognised her. You aided her to escape."
Again the Professor burst into high-keyed laughter. He had risen to hisfeet and his eyes glowed like embers.
"You are mad!" he cried. "You are talking insanely. I helped her toescape? Where is she now?"
"She is there," said Holmes, and he pointed to a high bookcase in thecorner of the room.
I saw the old man throw up his arms, a terrible convulsion passed overhis grim face, and he fell back in his chair. At the same instant thebookcase at which Holmes pointed swung round upon a hinge, and a womanrushed out into the room. "You are right!" she cried, in a strangeforeign voice. "You are right! I am here."
She was brown with the dust and draped with the cobwebs which had comefrom the walls of her hiding-place. Her face, too, was streaked withgrime, and at the best she could never have been handsome, for she hadthe exact physical characteristics which Holmes had divined, with, inaddition, a long and obstinate chin. What with her natural blindness,and what with the change from dark to light, she stood as one dazed,blinking about her to see where and who we were. And yet, in spite ofall these disadvantages, there was a certain nobility in the woman'sbearing, a gallantry in the defiant chin and in the upraised head, whichcompelled something of respect and admiration. Stanley Hopkins had laidhis hand upon her arm and claimed her as his prisoner, but she wavedhim aside gently, and yet with an overmastering dignity which compelledobedience. The old man lay back in his chair, with a twitching face, andstared at her with brooding eyes.
"Yes, sir, I am your prisoner," she said. "From where I stood I couldhear everything, and I know that you have learned the truth. I confessit all. It was I who killed the young man. But you are right, you whosay it was an accident. I did not even know that it was a knife whichI held in my hand, for in my despair I snatched anything from the tableand struck at him to make him let me go. It is the truth that I tell."
"Madam," said Holmes, "I am sure that it is the truth. I fear that youare far from well."
She had turned a dreadful colour, the more ghastly under the darkdust-streaks upon her face. She seated herself on the side of the bed;then she resumed.
"I have only a little time here," she said, "but I would have you toknow the whole truth. I am this man's wife. He is not an Englishman. Heis a Russian. His name I will not tell."
For the first time the old man stirred. "God bless you, Anna!" he cried."God bless you!"
She cast a look of the deepest disdain in his direction. "Why should youcling so hard to that wretched life of yours, Sergius?" said she. "Ithas done harm to many and good to none--not even to yourself. However,it is not for me to cause the frail thread to be snapped before God'stime. I have enough already upon my soul since I crossed the thresholdof this cursed house. But I must speak or I shall be too late.
"I have said, gentlemen, that I am this man's wife. He was fifty and Ia foolish girl of twenty when we married. It was in a city of Russia, aUniversity--I will not name the place."
"God bless you, Anna!" murmured the old man again.
"We were reformers--revolutionists--Nihilists, you understand. He and Iand many more. Then there came a time of trouble, a police officer waskilled, many were arrested, evidence was wanted, and in order to savehis own life and to earn a great reward my husband betrayed his own wifeand his companions. Yes, we were all arrested upon his confession. Someof us found our way to the gallows and some to Siberia. I was amongthese last, but my term was not for life. My husband came to Englandwith his ill-gotten gains, and has lived in quiet ever since, knowingwell that if the Brotherhood knew where he was not a week would passbefore justice would be done."
The old man reached out a trembling hand and helped himself to acigarette. "I am in your hands, Anna," said he. "You were always good tome."
"I have not yet told you the height of his villainy," said she. "Amongour comrades of the Order there was one who was the friend of my heart.He was noble, unselfish, loving--all that my husband was not. He hatedviolence. We were all guilty--if that is guilt--but he was not. He wrotefor ever dissuading us from such a course. These letters would havesaved him. So would my diary, in which from day to day I had enteredboth my feelings towards him and the view which each of us had taken. Myhusband found and kept both diary and letters. He hid them, and he triedhard to swear away the young man's life. In this he failed, but Alexiswas sent a convict to Siberia, where now, at this moment, he works ina salt mine. Think of that, you villain, you villain; now, now, at thisvery moment, Alexis, a man whose name you ar
e not worthy to speak, worksand lives like a slave, and yet I have your life in my hands and I letyou go."
"You were always a noble woman, Anna," said the old man, puffing at hiscigarette.
She had risen, but she fell back again with a little cry of pain.
"I must finish," she said. "When my term was over I set myself to getthe diary and letters which, if sent to the Russian Government, wouldprocure my friend's release. I knew that my husband had come to England.After months of searching I discovered where he was. I knew that hestill had the diary, for when I was in Siberia I had a letter from himonce reproaching me and quoting some passages from its pages. Yet I wassure that with his revengeful nature he would never give it to me of hisown free will. I must get it for myself. With this object I engaged anagent from a private detective firm, who entered my husband's house assecretary--it was your second secretary, Sergius, the one who left youso hurriedly. He found that papers were kept in the cupboard, and he gotan impression of the key. He would not go farther. He furnished me witha plan of the house, and he told me that in the forenoon the study wasalways empty, as the secretary was employed up here. So at last I tookmy courage in both hands and I came down to get the papers for myself. Isucceeded, but at what a cost!
"I had just taken the papers and was locking the cupboard when the youngman seized me. I had seen him already that morning. He had met me inthe road and I had asked him to tell me where Professor Coram lived, notknowing that he was in his employ."
"Exactly! exactly!" said Holmes. "The secretary came back and told hisemployer of the woman he had met. Then in his last breath he tried tosend a message that it was she--the she whom he had just discussed withhim."
"You must let me speak," said the woman, in an imperative voice, andher face contracted as if in pain. "When he had fallen I rushed from theroom, chose the wrong door, and found myself in my husband's room. Hespoke of giving me up. I showed him that if he did so his life was in myhands. If he gave me to the law I could give him to the Brotherhood. Itwas not that I wished to live for my own sake, but it was that I desiredto accomplish my purpose. He knew that I would do what I said--thathis own fate was involved in mine. For that reason and for no other heshielded me. He thrust me into that dark hiding-place, a relic of olddays, known only to himself. He took his meals in his own room, and sowas able to give me part of his food. It was agreed that when the policeleft the house I should slip away by night and come back no more. But insome way you have read our plans." She tore from the bosom of her dressa small packet. "These are my last words," said she; "here is the packetwhich will save Alexis. I confide it to your honour and to your love ofjustice. Take it! You will deliver it at the Russian Embassy. Now I havedone my duty, and----"