The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes
at the door for a few minutes, and now I am quite myself again.’
“All the time that she was telling me this story she never once
looked in my direction, and her voice was quite unlike her usual
tones. It was evident to me that she was saying what was false. I
said nothing in reply, but turned my face to the wall, sick at
heart, with my mind filled with a thousand venomous doubts and
suspicions. What was it that my wife was concealing from me?
Where had she been during that strange expedition? I felt that I
should have no peace until I knew, and yet I shrank from asking
her again after once she had told me what was false. All the rest
of the night I tossed and tumbled, framing theory after theory,
each more unlikely than the last.
“I should have gone to the City that day, but I was too disturbed
in my mind to be able to pay attention to business matters. My
wife seemed to be as upset as myself, and I could see from the
little questioning glances which she kept shooting at me that she
understood that I disbelieved her statement, and that she was at
her wits’ end what to do. We hardly exchanged a word during
breakfast, and immediately afterwards I went out for a walk, that
I might think the matter out in the fresh morning air.
“I went as far as the Crystal Palace, spent an hour in the
grounds, and was back in Norbury by one o’clock. It happened that
my way took me past the cottage, and I stopped for an instant to
look at the windows, and to see if I could catch a glimpse of the
strange face which had looked out at me on the day before. As I
stood there, imagine my surprise, Mr. Holmes, when the door
suddenly opened and my wife walked out.
“I was struck dumb with astonishment at the sight of her; but my
emotions were nothing to those which showed themselves upon her
face when our eyes met. She seemed for an instant to wish to
shrink back inside the house again; and then, seeing how useless
all concealment must be, she came forward, with a very white face
and frightened eyes which belied the smile upon her lips.
“‘Ah, Jack,’ she said, ‘I have just been in to see if I can be of
any assistance to our new neighbours. Why do you look at me like
that, Jack? You are not angry with me?’
“‘So,’ said I, ‘this is where you went during the night.’
“‘What do you mean?’ she cried.
“‘You came here. I am sure of it. Who are these people, that you
should visit them at such an hour?’
“‘I have not been here before.’
“‘How can you tell me what you know is false?’ I cried. ‘Your
very voice changes as you speak. When have I ever had a secret
from you? I shall enter that cottage, and I shall probe the
matter to the bottom.’
“‘No, no, Jack, for God’s sake!’ she gasped, in uncontrollable
emotion. Then, as I approached the door, she seized my sleeve and
pulled me back with convulsive strength.
“‘I implore you not to do this, Jack,’ she cried. ‘I swear that I
will tell you everything some day, but nothing but misery can
come of it if you enter that cottage.’ Then, as I tried to shake
her off, she clung to me in a frenzy of entreaty.
“‘Trust me, Jack!’ she cried. ‘Trust me only this once. You will
never have cause to regret it. You know that I would not have a
secret from you if it were not for your own sake. Our whole lives
are at stake in this. If you come home with me, all will be well.
If you force your way into that cottage, all is over between us.’
“There was such earnestness, such despair, in her manner that her
words arrested me, and I stood irresolute before the door.
“‘I will trust you on one condition, and on one condition only,’
said I at last. ‘It is that this mystery comes to an end from
now. You are at liberty to preserve your secret, but you must
promise me that there shall be no more nightly visits, no more
doings which are kept from my knowledge. I am willing to forget
those which are passed if you will promise that there shall be no
more in the future.’
“‘I was sure that you would trust me,’ she cried, with a great
sigh of relief. ‘It shall be just as you wish. Come away—oh, come
away up to the house.’
“Still pulling at my sleeve, she led me away from the cottage. As
we went I glanced back, and there was that yellow livid face
watching us out of the upper window. What link could there be
between that creature and my wife? Or how could the coarse, rough
woman whom I had seen the day before be connected with her? It
was a strange puzzle, and yet I knew that my mind could never
know ease again until I had solved it.
“For two days after this I stayed at home, and my wife appeared
to abide loyally by our engagement, for, as far as I know, she
never stirred out of the house. On the third day, however, I had
ample evidence that her solemn promise was not enough to hold her
back from this secret influence which drew her away from her
husband and her duty.
“I had gone into town on that day, but I returned by the 2.40
instead of the 3.36, which is my usual train. As I entered the
house the maid ran into the hall with a startled face.
“‘Where is your mistress?’ I asked.
“‘I think that she has gone out for a walk,’ she answered.
“My mind was instantly filled with suspicion. I rushed upstairs
to make sure that she was not in the house. As I did so I
happened to glance out of one of the upper windows, and saw the
maid with whom I had just been speaking running across the field
in the direction of the cottage. Then of course I saw exactly
what it all meant. My wife had gone over there, and had asked the
servant to call her if I should return. Tingling with anger, I
rushed down and hurried across, determined to end the matter once
and forever. I saw my wife and the maid hurrying back along the
lane, but I did not stop to speak with them. In the cottage lay
the secret which was casting a shadow over my life. I vowed that,
come what might, it should be a secret no longer. I did not even
knock when I reached it, but turned the handle and rushed into
the passage.
“It was all still and quiet upon the ground floor. In the kitchen
a kettle was singing on the fire, and a large black cat lay
coiled up in the basket; but there was no sign of the woman whom
I had seen before. I ran into the other room, but it was equally
deserted. Then I rushed up the stairs, only to find two other
rooms empty and deserted at the top. There was no one at all in
the whole house. The furniture and pictures were of the most
common and vulgar description, save in the one chamber at the
window of which I had seen the strange face. That was comfortable
and elegant, and all my suspicions rose into a fierce bitter
flame when I saw that on the mantelpiece stood a copy of a
full-length photograph of my wife, which had been taken at my
request only three months ago.
“I stayed long enough to make certain that the house was
absolutely empty. Then I left it, feeling a weight at my heart
such as I had never had before. My wife came out into the hall as
I entered my house; but I was too hurt and angry to speak with
her, and pushing past her, I made my way into my study. She
followed me, however, before I could close the door.
“‘I am sorry that I broke my promise, Jack,’ said she; ‘but if
you knew all the circumstances I am sure that you would forgive
me.’
“‘Tell me everything, then,’ said I.
“‘I cannot, Jack, I cannot,’ she cried.
“‘Until you tell me who it is that has been living in that
cottage, and who it is to whom you have given that photograph,
there can never be any confidence between us,’ said I, and
breaking away from her, I left the house. That was yesterday, Mr.
Holmes, and I have not seen her since, nor do I know anything
more about this strange business. It is the first shadow that has
come between us, and it has so shaken me that I do not know what
I should do for the best. Suddenly this morning it occurred to me
that you were the man to advise me, so I have hurried to you now,
and I place myself unreservedly in your hands. If there is any
point which I have not made clear, pray question me about it.
But, above all, tell me quickly what I am to do, for this misery
is more than I can bear.”
Holmes and I had listened with the utmost interest to this
extraordinary statement, which had been delivered in the jerky,
broken fashion of a man who is under the influence of extreme
emotions. My companion sat silent for some time, with his chin
upon his hand, lost in thought.
“Tell me,” said he at last, “could you swear that this was a
man’s face which you saw at the window?”
“Each time that I saw it I was some distance away from it, so
that it is impossible for me to say.”
“You appear, however, to have been disagreeably impressed by it.”
“It seemed to be of an unnatural colour, and to have a strange
rigidity about the features. When I approached, it vanished with
a jerk.”
“How long is it since your wife asked you for a hundred pounds?”
“Nearly two months.”
“Have you ever seen a photograph of her first husband?”
“No; there was a great fire at Atlanta very shortly after his
death, and all her papers were destroyed.”
“And yet she had a certificate of death. You say that you saw
it.”
“Yes; she got a duplicate after the fire.”
“Did you ever meet any one who knew her in America?”
“No.”
“Did she ever talk of revisiting the place?”
“No.”
“Or get letters from it?”
“No.”
“Thank you. I should like to think over the matter a little now.
If the cottage is now permanently deserted we may have some
difficulty. If, on the other hand, as I fancy is more likely, the
inmates were warned of your coming, and left before you entered
yesterday, then they may be back now, and we should clear it all
up easily. Let me advise you, then, to return to Norbury, and to
examine the windows of the cottage again. If you have reason to
believe that it is inhabited, do not force your way in, but send
a wire to my friend and me. We shall be with you within an hour
of receiving it, and we shall then very soon get to the bottom of
the business.”
“And if it is still empty?”
“In that case I shall come out to-morrow and talk it over with
you. Good-by; and, above all, do not fret until you know that you
really have a cause for it.”
“I am afraid that this is a bad business, Watson,” said my
companion, as he returned after accompanying Mr. Grant Munro to
the door. “What do you make of it?”
“It had an ugly sound,” I answered.
“Yes. There’s blackmail in it, or I am much mistaken.”
“And who is the blackmailer?”
“Well, it must be the creature who lives in the only comfortable
room in the place, and has her photograph above his fireplace.