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EDITOR’S NOTE--"The
Adventure of the Copper Beeches," one of the 56 short Sherlock Holmes
stories written by British author Sir Arthur Conan Doyle, is the last of the
12 collected in The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. It was first published
in Strand Magazine in June 1892. A
copper beech is a tree found in the English countryside with rust colored
leaves.
THE COPPER BEECHES
By Sir
Arthur Conan Doyle
From the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes
"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 celebres 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 color 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-colored 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 endeavored 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."
"Really,
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 tomorrow 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 favorably 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 gaunt man with a very smiling face and a large
balding sat at her elbow 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.
"
'You are
looking for a situation, miss?' he asked.
"'Yes,
sir.'
"'As governess?'
"'Yes,
sir.'
"'And
what salary do you ask?'
"'I had
4 pounds a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.'
"'Oh,
tut, 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 —'
"'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 fined 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 pounds 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 such a 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 pounds 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 pounds a
quarter, or 120 pounds 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 humors 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 pounds a year, when they could have their pick for 40
pounds? 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 tomorrow." 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 Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday tomorrow," it said. "Do
come! I am at my wit's end. HUNTER."
"Will
you come with me?" asked Holmes, glancing up.
"Yes."
"Just
look it up, then," Holmes said.
"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."
A homestead in the Hampshire countryside that Watson found beautiful but Holmes insisted was depressing |
By 11 am 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 gray 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 neighbors, 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 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 30, I should think, while he can hardly
be less than 45. 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 20, I can quite imagine that her position must have been
uncomfortable with her father's young wife.
"Mrs.
Rucastle seemed to me to be colorless in mind as well as in feature. She
impressed me neither favorably 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 gray 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 humor, 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
repertoire, 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 gray 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 2 am. 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 bonom 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 3 pm, 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 7 pm, 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 color 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 fiance—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 endeavoring 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's 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 labor 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.
The End.
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