Speaker 1: The adventure of the noble bachelor the Lord Saint Simon.
Marriage and its curious termination have long ceased to be
a subject of interest in those exalted circles in which
the unfortunate bridegroom moves. Fresh scandals have eclipsed it, and
their more piquant details have drawn the gossips away from
this four year old drama. As I have reason to believe, however,
that the full facts have never been revealed to the
general public, and as my friend Sherlock Holmes had a
considerable share in clearing the matter up, I feel that
no memoir of him would be complete without some little
sketch of this remarkable episode. It was a few weeks
before my own marriage, during the days when I was
still sharing rooms with homes in Baker Street, that he
came home from an afternoon stroll to find a letter
on the table waiting for him. I had remained indoors
all day, for the weather had taken a sudden turn
to rain with high autumnal winds, and the Jazail bullet,
which I had brought back in one of my limbs
as a relic of my Afghan campaign, throbbed with dull persistence.
With my body in one easy chair and my legs
upon another, I had surrounded myself with a cloud of newspapers,
until at last, saturated with the news of the day,
I tossed them all aside and lay listless, watching the
huge crest and monogram upon the envelope upon the table,
and wondering lazily whom my friend's noble correspondent could be.
Here is a very fashionable epistle, I remarked, as he entered.
Your morning letters, if I remember right, were from a
fishmonger and a tide waiter. Yes, my correspondence has certainly
the charm of variety, he answered, smiling, and the humbler
are usually more interesting. This looks like one of those
unwelcome social summonses which call upon a man either to
be bored or to lie. He broke the seal and
glanced over the contents. Oh, come, it may prove to
be something of interest after all. Not social, then, no,
distinctly professional, and from a noble client, one of the
highest in England. My dear fellow, I congratulate you. I
assure you, Watson, without affectation, that the status of my
client is a matter of less moment to me than
the interest of his case. It is just possible, however,
that that also may not be wanting in this new investigation.
You have been reading the papers diligently of late, have
you not? It looks like it, said I ruefully, pointing
to a huge bundle in the corner. I have had
nothing else to do. It is fortunate for you will
perhaps be able to post me up. I read nothing
except the criminal news and the Agony column. The latter
is always instructive. But if you have followed recent events
so closely, you must have read about Lord Saint Simon
and his wedding. Oh, yes, with the deepest interest. That
is well. The letter would which I hold in my hand,
is from Lord Saint Simon. I will read it to you,
and in return you must turn over these papers and
let me have whatever bears upon the matter. This is
what he says, my dear mister Sherlock Holmes. Lord Backwater
tells me that I may place implicit reliance upon your
judgment and discretion. I have determined therefore to call upon
you and to consult you in reference to the very
painful event which has occurred in connection with my wedding
mister Lestrade of Scotland Yard is acting already in the matter.
But he assures me that he sees no objection to
your co operation, and that he even thinks that it
might be of some assistance. I will call at four
o'clock in the afternoon, and should you have any other
engagement at that time, I hope that you will postpone it,
as this is a matter of paramount importance, yours faithfully,
Saint Simon. It is dated from Grosvenor Mansions, written with
a quill pen, and the noble lord has had the
misfortune to get a smear upon the outer side of
his right little finger, remarked Holmes, as he folded up
the epistle. He says four o'clock. It is three now.
He will be here in an hour. Then I have
just time, with your assistance, to get clear upon the subject.
Turn over those papers and arrange the extracts in their
order of time, while I take a glance as to
who our client is. He picked a red covered volume
from a line of books of reference beside the mantelpiece.
Here he is, said, he sitting down and flattening it
out upon his knee. Lord Robert Bolsingham. The vere Saint Simon,
second son of the Duke of Balmoral, come arms Azure
three cowtrops in chief over a fest Sable. Born in
eighteen forty six, he's forty one years of age, which
is mature for marriage. Was under Secretary for the Colonies
in a late administration the Duke. His father was at
one time Secretary for foreign affairs. They inherit Plantagenet blood
by direct descent and tutor on the distaff side. Ha. Well,
there is nothing very instructive in all this. I think
that I must turn to you, Watson, for something more solid.
I have very little difficulty in finding what I want,
said I, for the facts are quite recent, and the
matter struck me as remarkable. I feared to refer them
to you, however, as I knew that you had an
inquiry on hand, and that you disliked the intrusion of
other matters. Oh, you mean the little problem of the
Grosvenor Square furniture van. That is quite cleared up now,
though indeed it was obvious from the first Pray, give
me the results of your newspaper selections. Here is the
first notice which I can find. It is in the
personal column of the Morning Post and dates. As you
see some weeks back. A marriage has been arranged, it says,
and will, if rumor is correct, very shortly take place
between Lord Robert Saint Simon, second son of the Duke
of Balmoral, and Miss Hattie Duran, the only daughter of
Aloysius Duran, Esquire of San Francisco, California. U s A.
That is all terse and to the point, remarked Holmes,
stretching his long thin legs towards the fire. There was
a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society papers
of the same week. Ah here it is. There will
soon be a call for protection in the marriage market,
for the present free trade principle appears to tell heavily
against our home product. One by one, the management of
the noble houses of Great Britain is passing into the
hands of our fair cousins from across the Atlantic. An
important addition has been made during the last week to
the list of the prizes which have been borne away
by these charming invaders. Lord Saint Simon, who has shown
himself for over twenty years proof against the little God's arrows,
has now definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hattie Duran,
the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss Duran, whose
graceful figure and striking face attracted much attention at the
Westbury House festivities, is an only child and it is
currently reported that her dowry will run to considerably over
the six figures, with expectancies for the future. As it
is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has
been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few years,
and as Lord Saint Simon has no property of his
own save the small estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious
that the Californian heiress is not the only gainer by
an alliance which will enable her to make the easy
and common transition from a Republican lady to a British peeress.
Anything else, asked Holmes, yawning, Oh, yes, plenty. Then there
is another note in the Morning Post to say that
the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it
would be at Saint George's Hanover Square, that only a
half a dozen intimate friends would be invited, and that
the party would return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate,
which has been taken by mister Aloysius Duran. Two days later,
that is, on Wednesday last, there is a curt announcement
that the wedding had taken place and that the honeymoon
would be passed at Lord Backwater's place near Petersfield. Those
are all the notices which appeared before the disappearance of
the bride, before the What asked Holmes with a start,
the vanishing of the lady? When did she vanish? Then
at the wedding breakfast? Indeed, this is more interesting than
it promised to be, quite dramatic. In fact, yes, it
struck me as being a little out of the common.
They often vanish before the ceremony and occasionally during the honeymoon.
But I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt
as this pray. Let me have the details. I warn
you that they are very incomplete. Perhaps we may make
them less. So such as they are, they are set
forth in a single article of a morning paper of yesterday,
which I will read to you. It is headed singular
occurrence at a fashionable wedding. The family of Lord Robert
Saint Simon has been thrown into the greatest consternation by
the strange and painful episodes which have taken place in
connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as shortly announced in
the papers of yesterday, occurred on the previous morning. But
it is only now that it has been possible to
confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently floating about.
In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush
the matter up. So much public attention has now been
drawn to it that no good purpose can be served
by affecting to disregard what is a common subject for conversation.
The ceremony, which was performed at Saint George's Hanover Square,
was a very quiet one, no one being present save
the father of the bride, Mister Aloysius Duran, the Duchess
of Balmoral, Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace, and Lady Clara, Saint Simon,
the younger brother and sister of the bridegroom, and Lady
Alicia Whittington. The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house
of mister Allowish's Duran at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had
been prepared. It appears that some little trouble was caused
by a woman whose name has not been ascertained, who
endeavored to force her way into the house after the
bridal party, alleging that she had some claim upon Lord
Saint Simon. It was only after a painful and prolonged
scene that she was ejected by the butler and the footman.
The bride, who had fortunately entered the house before this
unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast with the rest,
when she complained of a sudden indisposition and retired to
her room, her prolonged absence having caused some comment. Her
father followed her, but learned from her maid that she
had only come up to her chamber for an instant
caught up an ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to
the passage. One of the footmen declared that he had
seen a lady leave the house thus apparelled, but had
refused to credit that it was his mistress, believing her
to be with the company. On ascertaining that his daughter
had disappeared, mister Alowisius Duran, in conjunction with the bridegroom,
instantly put themselves in communication with the police, and very
energetic inquiries are being made which will probably result in
a speedy clearing up of this very singular business. Up
to a late hour last night, however, nothing had transpired
as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There are
rumors of foul play in the matter, and it is
said that the police have caused the arrests of the
woman who had caused the original disturbance, in the belief
that from jealousy or some other motive, she may have
been concerned in the strange disappearance of the bride. And
is that all only one little item in another of
the morning papers, But it is a suggestive one, and
it is that Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had
caused the disturbance, has actually been arrested. It appears that
she was formerly a danseuse at the Allegro, and that
she has known the bridegroom for some years. There are
no further particulars, and the whole case is in your
hands now so far as it has been set forth
in the public press. And an exceedingly interesting case it
appears to be. I would not have missed it for worlds.
But there is a ring at the bell, Watson, and
as the clock makes it a few minutes after four,
I have no doubt that this will prove to be
our noble client. Do not dream of going Watson, for
I very much prefer having a witness, if only as
a check to my own memory. Lord Robert Saint Simon
announced our page boy, throwing open the door. A gentleman entered,
with a pleasant cultured face, high nosed and pale, with
something perhaps of petulance about the mouth, and with the steady,
well opened eye of a man whose pleasant lot it
had ever been to command and to be obeyed. His
manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance gave an
undue impression of age, for he had a slight forward
stoop and a little bend of the knees as he walked.
His hair, too, as he swept off his very curly
brimmed hat, was grizzled round the edges and thin upon
the top. As to his dress, it was careful to
the verge of popping fishness, with high collar, black frock coat,
white waistcoat, yellow gloves, patent leather shoes, and light colored gaiters.
He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from
left to right, and swinging in his right hand the
cord which held his golden eyeglasses. Good day, Lord Saint Simon,
said Holmes, rising and bowing. Pray, take the basket chair.
This is my friend and colleague, doctor Watson. Draw up
a little to the fire, and we will talk this
matter over, A most painful matter to me, as you
can most readily imagine, mister Holmes, I have been cut
to the quick. I understand that you have already managed
several delicate cases of this sort, sir, though I presume
that they were hardly from the same class of society.
No I am descending. I beg pardon. My last client
of the sort was a king. Oh really, I had
no idea, and which king? But the King of Scandinavia.
What had he lost his wife? You can understand, said Holmes, suavely,
that I extend to the affairs of my other clients
the same secrecy which I promised you in yours. Of course,
Very right, very right, I am sure, I beg pardon.
As to my own case, I am ready to give
you any information which may assist you in forming an opinion.
Thank you. I have already learned all that is in
the public prints. Nothing more. I presume that I may
take it as correct. This article, for example, as to
the disappearance of the Bride. Lord Saint Simon glanced over it. Yes,
it is correct as far as it goes, but it
needs a great deal of supplementing before any one could
offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at
my facts most directly by questioning you, pray do so?
When did you first meet miss Hattie Durant in San
Francisco a year ago? You were traveling in the States. Yes,
did you become engaged then? No, but you were on
a friendly footing. I was amu used by her society,
and she could see that I was amused. Her father
is very rich. He is said to be the richest
man on the Pacific Slope. And how did he make
his money in mining? He had nothing a few years
ago that he struck gold, invested it and came up
by leaps and bounds. Now, what is your own impression
as to the young ladies your wife's character. The nobleman
swung his glasses a little faster and stared down into
the fire. You see, mister Holmes said he. My wife
was twenty before her father became a rich man. During
that time she ran free in a mining camp and
wandered through woods or mountains, so that her education has
come from nature rather than from the schoolmaster. She is
what we call in England a tomboy with a strong nature,
wild and free, unfettered by any sort of traditions. She
is impetuous, volcanic. I was about to say, she is
swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying
out her resolutions. On the other hand, I would not
have given her the name which I have the honor
to bear. He gave a little stately cough, had I
not thought her to be at bottom a noble woman.
I believe that she is capable of heroic self sacrifice,
and that anything dishonorable would be repugnant to her. Have
you her photograph? I brought this with me. He opened
a locket and showed us the full face of a
very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an
ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full
effect of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes,
and the exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it.
Then he closed the locket and handed it back to
Lord Saint Simon. The young lady came to London then,
and you renewed your acquaintance. Yes, her father brought her
over for this last London season. I met her several times,
became engaged to her, and have now married her. She
brought I understand a considerable dowry, a fair dowry, not
more than as usual in my family. And this, of
course remains to you, since the marriage is a fee accomplie.
I really have made no inquiries on the subject. Very
naturally not. Did you see mister rand on the day
before the wedding? Yes, was she in good spirits, never better.
She kept talking of what we should do in our
future lives. Indeed, that is very interesting. And on the
morning of the wedding she was as bright as possible,
at least until after the ceremony. And did you observe
any change in her then? Well, to tell the truth,
I saw then the first signs that I had ever
seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident, however,
was too trivial to relate, and can have no possible
bearing upon the case. Pray let us have it for
all that, Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet
as we went towards the vestry. She was asking the
front pew at the time, and it fell over into
the pew. There was a moment's delay, but the gentleman
in the pew handed it up to her again, and
it did not appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet,
when I spoke to her of the matter, she answered
me abruptly, and in the carriage on our way home,
she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause. Indeed, you
say that there was a gentleman in the pew, some
of the general public were present, then, oh, yes, it
is impossible to exclude them when the church is open.
This gentleman was not one of your wife's friends. No, no,
I call him a gentleman by courtesy. But he was
quite a common looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance.
But really, I think that we are wandering rather far
from the point. Lady Saint Simon then returned from the
wedding in a less cheerful frame of mind than she
had gone to it. What did she do on re
entering her father's house? I saw her in conversation with
her maid. And who is her maid? Is her name?
She is an American and came from California with her
a confidential servant, a little too much. So it seemed
to me that her mistress allowed her to take great liberties. Still,
of course, in America they look upon these things in
a different way. How long did she speak to this, Alice? Oh,
a few minutes. I had something else to think of.
You did not overhear what they said. Lady Saint Simon
said something about jumping a claim. She was accustomed to
use slang of that kind. I have no idea what
she meant. American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what
did your wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?
She walked into the breakfast room on your arm. No alone.
She was very independent in little matters like that. Then
after we had sat down for ten minutes or so,
she rose, hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left
the room. She never came back. But this made Alice,
as I understand the poses, that she went to her room,
covered her bride's dress with a long ulster, put on
a bonnet, and went out quite so. And she was
afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in company with Flora Millar,
a woman who is now in custody, and who had
already made a disturbance at mister Durand's house that morning. Ah, yes,
I should like a few particulars as to this young
lady and your relations to her. Lord Saint Simon shrugged
his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. We have been on
her friendly footing for some years, I may say, on
a very friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro.
I have not treated her ungenerously, and she had no
just cause of complaint against me, But you know what
women are, mister Holmes. Flora was a dear little thing,
but exceedingly hot headed and devotedly attached to me. She
wrote me dreadful letters when she heard that I was
about to be married, and to tell the truth, the
reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly was
that I feared lest there might be a scandal in
the church. She came to mister Durand's door just after
we returned, and she endeavored to push her way in,
uttering very abusive expressions towards my wife and even threatening her.
But I had foreseen the possibility of something of the sort,
and I had two police fellows there in private clothes,
who soon pushed her out again. She was quiet when
she saw that there was no good in making a row?
Did your wife hear all this? No, thank goodness, she
did not, and she was seen walking with this very
woman afterwards. Yes, that is what mister Lestrade of Scotland
Yard looks upon as so serious. It is thought that
Flora decoyed my wife out and laid some terrible trap
for her. Well, it is a possible supposition. You think
so too, I did not say a probable one. But
you do not yourself look upon this as likely. I
do not think Flora would her to fly. Still, jealousy
is a strange transformer of characters. Ray, what is your
own theory as to what took place? Well? Really, I
came to seek a theory, not a propound one. I
have given you all the facts since you ask me. However,
I may say that it has occurred to me as
possible that the excitement of this affair, the consciousness that
she had made so immense a social stride, had the
effect of causing some little nervous disturbance in my wife,
In short, that she had become suddenly deranged. Well, really,
when I consider that she has turned her back, I
will not say upon me, but upon so much that
many have aspired you without success. I can hardly explain
it in any other fashion. Well, certainly that is also
a conceivable hypothesis, said Holmes, smiling. And now, Lord Saint Simon,
I think that I have nearly all my data. May
I ask whether you were seated at the breakfast table
so that you could see out of the window. We
could see the other side of the road and the park.
Quite so, then, I do not think that I need
to detain you longer. I shall communicate with you should
you be fortunate enough to solve this problem, said our client, rising,
I have solved it. Eh, What was that? I say
that I have solved it? Where then is my wife?
That is a detail that I shall speedily supply. Lord
Saint Simon shook his head. I am afraid that it
will take wiser heads than yours or mine, he remarked,
and bowing in a stately old fashioned manner, he departed.
It is very good of Lord Saint Simon to honor
my head by putting it on a level with his own,
said Sherlock Holmes, laughing. I think that I shall have
a whisky and soda and a cigar after all this
cross questioning. I had formed my conclusion as to the
case before our client came into the room. My dear Holmes,
I have notes of several similar cases, though none, as
I remarked before, which were quite as prompt. My whole
examination served to turn my conjecture into a certainty. Circumstantial
evidence is occasionally very convincing, as when you find a
trout in the milk, to quote Sir Rose example. But
I have heard all that you have heard, without, however,
the knowledge of pre existing cases, which serves me so well.
There was a parallel instance in Aberdeen some years back,
and something on very much the same lines at Munich
the year after the Franco Prussian War. It is one
of these cases. But hullo, here is lestrade, Good afternoon, Lestrade.
You will find an extra tumbler upon the sideboard, and
there are cigars in the box. The official detective was
attired in a pea jacket in cravat, which gave him
a decidedly nautical appearance, and he carried a black canvas
bag in his hand. With a short greeting, he seated
himself and lit the cigar which had been offered to him.
What's up? Then asked Holmes, with a twinkle in his eye.
You look dissatisfied, and I feel dissatisfied. It is this
infernal Saint Simon marriage case. I can make neither head
nor tail of the business. Really, you surprise me. Who
ever heard of such a mixed affair? Every clue seems
to slip through my fingers. I've been at work upon
it all day, and very wet. It seems to have
made you, said Holmes, laying his hand upon the arm
of the pea jacket. Yes, I've been dragging the serpentine
in Heaven's name, what for in search of the body
of lady Saint Simon Sherlock Holmbs leaned back in his
chair and laughed heartily. Have you dragged the basin of
Trafago's square fountain? He asked? Why? What do you mean?
Because you have just as good a chance of finding
this lady in the one as in the other. Lestrade
shot an angry glance at my companion. I suppose you
know all about it, he snarled, Well, I have only
just heard the facts, but my mind is made up.
Oh indeed, then you think that the serpentine plays no
part in the matter. I think it very unlikely. Then
perhaps you will kindly explain how it is that we
found this in it. He opened his bag as he spoke,
and tumbled onto the floor a wedding dress of watered silk,
a pair of white satin shoes, and a bride's wreath
and veil, all discolored and soaked in water. There, said he,
putting a new wedding ring upon the top of the pile.
There is a little nut for you to crack, Master Holmes. Oh, indeed,
said my friend, blowing blue rings into the air. You
dragged them from the serpentine. No, they were found floating
near the margin by a park keeper. They have been
identified as her clothes, and it seemed to me that
if the clothes were there, the body would not be
far off. By the same brilliant reasoning, every man's body
is to be found in the neighborhood of his wardrobe.
And pray, what did you hope to arrive at through this?
At some evidence implicating Flora Millar in the disappearance. I
am afraid that you will find it difficult, are you? Indeed? Now,
cried Lestrade with some bitterness. I am afraid, Holmes, that
you are not very practical with your deductions and your inferences.
You have made two blunders in as many minutes. This
dress does implicate miss Flora Millar. And how in the
dress is a pocket. In the pocket is a card case.
In the card case is a note. And here is
the very note. He slapped it down upon the table
in front of him. Listen to this. You will see
me when all is ready, come at once. F h M. Now,
my theory all along has been that Lady Saint Simon
was decoyed away by Flora Millar, and that she, with confederates,
no doubt, was responsible for her disappearance. Here, signed with
her initials, is the very note which was no doubt
quietly slipped into her hand at the door, and which
lured her within their reach. Very good, Lestrade, said Holmes, laughing,
you really are very fine. Indeed, let me see it.
He took up the paper in a listless way, but
his attention instantly became riveted, and he gave a little
cry of satisfaction. This is indeed important, said he. Ha,
you find it so extremely so I congratulate you warmly.
Lestrade rose in his triumph and bent his head to
look why he shrieked, you're looking at the wrong side.
On the contrary, this is the right side, the right side.
You're mad. Here is the note written in pencil. Over here,
and over here is what appears to be the fragment
of a hotel bill, which interests me deeply. There's nothing
in it. I looked at it before, said Lestrade. October fourth,
Rooms eight shillings, breakfast two shillings sixpence, cocktail one shilling,
Lunch two shillings sixpence, glass sherry eightpence. I see nothing
in that. Very likely not. It is most important all
the same as to the note. It is important also,
or at least the initials are so. I congratulate you again.
I've wasted time enough, said Lestrade rising. I believe in
hard work and not in sitting by the fire spinning
fine theories. Good day, mister Holmes, and we shall see
which gets to the bottom of the matter. First he
gathered up the garments, thrust them into the bag, and
made for the door. Just one hint to you, Lestrade,
drawled Holmes, before his rival vanished. I will tell you
the true solution of the matter, Lady Saint Simon is
a myth. There is not, and there never has been
any such person. Lestrade looked sadly at my companion. Then
he turned to me, tapped his forehead three times, shook
his head solemnly, and hurried away. He had hardly shut
the door behind him when Holmes rose to put on
his overcoat. There is something in what the fellow says
about outdoor work, he remarked, So I think, Watson, that
I must leave you to your papers for a little.
It was after five o'clock when Sherlock Holmes left me,
but I had no time to be lonely, for within
an hour there arrived a confectioner's man with a very
large flat box. This he unpacked with the help of
a youth whom he had brought with him, and presently,
to my very great astonishment, a quite epicurean little cold
supper began to be laid out upon our humble lodging
house Mahogany. There were a couple of brace of cold woodcock,
a pheasant, a pte defago, a pie, with a group
of ancient and cobwebby bottles. Having laid out all these luxuries,
my two visitors vanished away, like the genie of the
Arabian nights, with no explanation save that the things had
been paid for and were ordered to this address. Just
before nine o'clock, Sherlockombe stepped briskly into the room. His
features were gravely set, but there was a light in
his eye which made me think that he had not
been disappointed in his conclusions. They have laid the supper, then,
he said, rubbing his hands, You seem to expect company.
They have laid for five Yes, I fancy we may
have some company dropping in, said he. I am surprised
that Lord Saint Simon has not already arrived. Ha I
fancy that I hear his step now upon the stairs.
It was indeed, our visitor of the afternoon who came
bustling in, dangling his glasses more vigorously than ever, and
with a very perturbed expression upon him aristocratic features. My
messenger reached you, then asked Holmes. Yes, and I confess
that the content startled me beyond measure. Have you good
authority for what you say? The best possible? Lord Saint
Simon sank into a chair and passed his hand over
his forehead. What will the Duke say? He murmured, When
he hears that one of the family has been subjected
to such humiliation. It is the purest accident. I cannot
allow that there is any humiliation. Ah, you look on
these things from another standpoint. I fail to see that
any one is to blame. I can hardly see how
the lady could have acted otherwise, though her abrupt method
of doing it was undoubtedly to be regretted. Having no mother,
she had no one to advise her at such a crisis.
It was a slight, Sir, a public slight, said Lord
Saint Simon, tapping his fingers upon the table. You must
make allowance for this poor girl placed in so unpresented
that a position. I will make no allowance. I am
very angry, indeed, and I have been shamefully used. I
think that I heard a ring, said Holmes. Yes, there
are steps on the landing. If I cannot persuade you
to take a lenient view of the matter, Lord Saint Simon,
I have brought an advocate here who may be more successful.
He opened the door and ushered in a lady and gentleman.
Lord Saint Simon said, he allow me to introduce you
to mister and missus Francis Hay Moulton, the lady, I
think you have already met at the sight of these newcomers.
Our client sprung from his seat and stood very erect,
with his eyes cast down and his hand thrust into
the breast of his frock coat, a picture of offended dignity.
The lady had taken a quick step forward and held
out her hand to him, but he still refused to
raise his eyes. It was as well for his resolution, perhaps,
for her pleading face was one which it was hard
to resist. You are angry, Robert said she. Well, I
guess you have every cause to be Pray. Make no
apology to me, said Lord Saint Simon bitterly. Oh yes,
I know that I have treated you real bad, and
that I should have spoken to you before I went.
But I was kind of rattled, and from the time
when I saw Frank here again, I just didn't know
what I was doing or saying. I only wonder I
didn't fall down and do a faint right there before
the altar. Perhaps, missus Moulton, you would like my friend
and me to leave the room while you explained this matter,
if I may give an opinion, remarked the strange gentleman,
we've had just a little too much secrecy over this
business already. For my part, I should like all Europe
and America to hear the rights of it. He was
a small, wiry, sunburnt man, clean shaven, with a sharp
face and alert manner. Then I'll tell our story right away,
said the lady. Frank Here and I met in eighty
four in mc guire's camp near the Rockies, where Pile
was working a claim. We were engaged to each other,
Frank and I. But then one day Father struck a
rich pocket and made a pile while or Frank there
had a claim that petered out and came to nothing.
The richer Pa grew, the poorer was Frank. So at
last Paw wouldn't hear of our engagement lasting any longer,
and he took me away to Frisco. Frank wouldn't throw
up his hand, though, so he followed me there and
he saw me without Pa knowing anything about it. It
would have only made him mad to know, so we
just fixed it all up for ourselves. Frank said that
he would go and make his pile too, and never
come back to claim me until he had as much
as Paw so then I promised to wait for him
to the end of time, and pledged myself not to
marry any one else while he lived. Why shouldn't we
be married right away, then said he, And then I
will feel sure of you, and I won't claim to
be your husband till I come back. Well, we talked
it over, and he had fixed it all up so nicely,
with a clergyman already in waiting, that we just did
it right there. And then Frank went off to seek
his fortune, and I went back to PA. The next
I heard of Frank was that he was in Montana,
and then he went prospecting in Ours, and then I
heard of him from New Mexico. After that came a
long newspaper story about how a miner's camp had been
attacked by Apache Indians, and there was my Frank's name
among the killed. I fainted dead away, and I was
very sick for months. After PA thought I had a
decline and took me to have the doctors in Frisco.
Not a word of news came for a year, and
more so that I never doubted that Frank was really dead.
Then Lord Saint Simon came to Frisco and we came
to London and a marriage was arranged, and PA was
very pleased. But I felt all the time that no
man on this earth would ever take the place in
my heart that had been given to my poor Frank. Still,
if I had married Lord Saint Simon, of course i'd
have done my duty by him. We can't command our love,
but we can our actions. I went to the altar
with him with the intention to make him just as
good a wife as it was in me to be.
But you may imagine what I felt when just as
I came to the altar rails, I glanced back and
saw Frank standing and looking at me out of the
first pew. I thought it was his ghost at first,
but when I looked again, there he was still, with
a kind of question in his eyes, as if to
ask me whether I were glad or sorry to see him.
I wonder. I didn't drop. I know that everything was
turning round, and the words of the clergyman were just
like the buzz of a bee in my ear. I
didn't know what to do. Should I stop the service
and make a scene in the church. I glanced at
him again, and he seemed to know what I was thinking.
For he raised his finger to his lips to tell
me to be still. Then I saw him scribble on
a piece of paper, and I knew that he was
writing me a note. As I passed his pew on
the way out, I dropped my bouquet over to him,
and he slipped a note into my hand. When he
returned me the flowers, it was only a line asking
me to join him. When he made the sign to
me to do so. Of course, I never doubted for
a moment that my first duty was now to him,
and I determined to do just whatever he might direct.
When I got back, I told my maid, who had
known him in California and had always been his friend.
I ordered her to say nothing, but to get a
few things packed and my ulster ready. I know I
ought to have spoken to Lord Saint Simon, but it
was dreadful, hard before his mother and all those great people.
I just made up my mind to run away and
explain afterwards. I hadn't been at the table ten minutes
before I saw Frank out of the window at the
other side of the road. He beckoned to me and
then began walking into the park. I slipped out, put
on my things and followed him. Some woman came talking
something or other about Lord Saint Simon to me, seemed
to me from the little I heard, as if he
had a little secret of his own before marriage also.
But I managed to get away from her and soon
overtook Frank. We got into a cab together and away
we drove to some lodgings he had taken in Gordon Square.
And that was my true wedding. After all those years
of waiting. Frank had been a prisoner among the Apaches,
had escaped, come to Fisco, found that I had given
him up for dead, and had gone to England, followed
me there and had come upon me at last on
the very morning of my second wedding. I saw it
in a paper, explained the American. It gave the name
and the church, but not where the lady lived. Then
we had a talk as to what we should do,
and Frank was all for openness, but I was so
ashamed of it all that I felt as if I
should like to vanish away and never see any of
them again, just sending a line to Pa, perhaps to
show him that I was alive. It was awful to
me to think of all those lords and ladies sitting
round that breakfast table and waiting for me to come back.
So Frank took my wedding clothes and things and made
a bundle of them so that I should not be traced,
and dropped them away somewhere where no one could find them.
It is likely that we should have gone on to
Paris tomorrow, only that this good gentleman, mister Holmes came
round to us this evening, though how he found us
is more than I can think. And he showed us
very clearly and kindly that I was wrong, and that
Frank was right, and that we should be put in
ourselves in the wrong if we were so secret. Then
he offered to give us a chance of talking to
Lord Saint Simon alone, and so we came right away
around to his rooms at once. Now, Robert, you have
heard it all, and I am very sorry if I
have given you pain, and I hope that you do
not think very meanly of me. Lord Saint Simon had
by no means relaxed his rigid attitude, but had listened
with a frowning brow and a compressed lip to this
long narrative. Excuse me, he said, but it is not
my custom to discuss my most intimate personal affairs in
this public manner. Then you won't forgive me. You won't
shake hands before I go. Oh, certainly, if it would
give you any pleasure. He put out his hand and
coldly grasped that which she extended to him. I had hoped,
suggested Holmes, that you would have joined us in a
friendly supper. I think that there you ask a little
too much, responded his lordship. I may be forced to
acquiesce in these recent developments, but I can hardly be
expected to make mary over them. I think that, with
your permission, I will now wish you all a very
good night. He included us all in a sweet bow
and stalked out of the room. Then I trust that
you at least will honor me with your company, said
Sherlock Holmes. It is always a joy to meet an American,
mister Moulton, for I am one of those who believe
that the folly of a monarch and the blundering of
a minister in far gone years will not prevent our
children from being some day citizens of the same world
wide country under a flag which shall be a quartering
of the Union. Jack with the stars and stripes. The
case has been an interesting one, remarked Holmes when our
visitors had left us, because it serves to show very
clearly how simple the explanation may be of an affair which,
at first sight seems to be almost inexplicable. Nothing could
be more natural than the sequence of events as narrated
by this lady, and nothing stranger than the result, when viewed,
for instance, by mister Lestrade of Scotland Yard. You were
not yourself at fault at all. Then, From the first
two facts were very obvious to me, the one that
the lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony,
the other that she had repented of it within a
few minutes of returning home. Obviously something had occurred during
the morning, then, to cause her to change her mind.
What could that something be. She could not have spoken
to any one when she was out, for she had
been in the company of the bridegroom. Had she seen
some one, then, if she had, it must be someone
from America, because she had spent so short a time
in this country that she could hardly have allowed any
one to acquire so deep an influence over her that
the mere sight of him would induce her to change
her plans so completely. You see, we have already arrived
by a process of exclusion. Had the idea that she
might have seen an American, then who could this American
be and why should he possess so much influence over her?
It might be a lover, It might be a husband.
Her young womanhood had I knew been spent in rough
scenes and under strange conditions, so far I had got
before I ever heard Lord Saint's Waymond's narrative when he
told us of a man in a pew, of the
change in the bride's manner, of so transparent a device
for obtaining a note as the dropping of a bouquet,
of her resort to her confidential maid, and of her
very significant allusion to claim jumping, which in miners parlance
means taking possession of that which another person has a
prior claim too. The whole situation became absolutely clear. She
had gone off with a man, and the man was
either a lover or was a previous husband, the chances
being in favor of the latter. And how in the
world did you find them? It might have been difficult,
but friend Lestrade held information in his hands, the value
of which he did not himself know. The initials were,
of course of the highest importance. But more valuable still
was it to know that within a week he had
settled his bill at one of the most select London hotels.
How did you deduce the select by the select prices?
Eight shillings for a bed and eightpence for a glass
of sherry point to one of the most expensive hotels.
There are not many in London which charge at that rate.
In the second one, which I visited, in Northumberton Avenue,
I learned by an inspection of the book, that Francis h. Multon,
an American gentleman, had left only the day before, And
on looking over the entries against him, I came upon
the very items which I had seen in the duplicate bill.
His letters were to be forwarded to two twenty six
Gordon Square. So thither I traveled, and being fortunate enough
to find the loving couple at home, I ventured to
give them some parental advice, and to point out to
them that it would be better in every way that
they should make their position a little clearer, both to
the general public and to Lord Saint Simon. In particular,
I invited them to meet him here, and as you see,
I made him keep the appointment, but with no very
good result. I remarked, his conduct was certainly not very gracious.
Ah Watson, said Holmes, smiling. Perhaps you would not be
very gracious either, if, after all the trouble of wooing
and wedding, you found yourself deprived in an instant of
a wife and of fortune. I think that we may
judge Lord Saint Simon very mercifully, and thank our stars
that we are never likely to find ourselves in the
same position. Draw up your chair and hand me my violin.
For the only problem we have still to solve is
how to while away these bleak, automal evenings. End of
Chapter ten, The Adventures of the Noble Bachelor.