“My father is dead, Mr. Holmes. He was James Smith, whoconducted the orchestra at the old Imperial Theatre. My motherand I were left without a relation in the world except one uncle,Ralph Smith, who went to Africa twenty-five years ago, and wehave never had a word from him since. When father died, wewere left very poor, but one day we were told that there was anadvertisement in the TIMES, inquiring for our whereabouts. Youcan imagine how excited we were, for we thought that someone hadleft us a fortune. We went at once to the lawyer whose name wasgiven in the paper. There we, met two gentlemen, Mr. Carruthersand Mr. Woodley, who were home on a visit from South Africa.
They said that my uncle was a friend of theirs, that he had diedsome months before in great poverty in Johannesburg, and that hehad asked them with his last breath to hunt up his relations, and seethat they were in no want. It seemed strange to us that Uncle Ralph,who took no notice of us when he was alive, should be so carefulto look after us when he was dead, but Mr. Carruthers explainedthat the reason was that my uncle had just heard of the death of hisbrother, and so felt responsible for our fate.”
“Excuse me,” said Holmes. “When was this interview?”
“Last December—four months ago.”
“Pray proceed.”
“Mr. Woodley seemed to me to be a most odious person. He wasfor ever making eyes at me—a coarse, puffy-faced, red-moustachedyoung man, with his hair plastered down on each side of hisforehead. I thought that he was perfectly hateful—and I was surethat Cyril would not wish me to know such a person.”
“Oh, Cyril is his name!” said Holmes, smiling.
The young lady blushed and laughed.
“Yes, Mr. Holmes, Cyril Morton, an electrical engineer, andwe hope to be married at the end of the summer. Dear me, howDID I get talking about him? What I wished to say was that Mr.
Woodley was perfectly odious, but that Mr. Carruthers, who was amuch older man, was more agreeable. He was a dark, sallow, cleanshaven,silent person, but he had polite manners and a pleasantsmile. He inquired how we were left, and on finding that we werevery poor, he suggested that I should come and teach music tohis only daughter, aged ten. I said that I did not like to leave mymother, on which he suggested that I should go home to her everyweek-end, and he offered me a hundred a year, which was certainlysplendid pay. So it ended by my accepting, and I went down toChiltern Grange, about six miles from Farnham. Mr. Carruthers wasa widower, but he had engaged a lady housekeeper, a very respectable,elderly person, called Mrs. Dixon, to look after his establishment.
The child was a dear, and everything promised well. Mr. Carrutherswas very kind and very musical, and we had most pleasant eveningstogether. Every week-end I went home to my mother in town.
“The first flaw in my happiness was the arrival of the redmoustachedMr. Woodley. He came for a visit of a week, and oh!
it seemed three months to me. He was a dreadful person—a bullyto everyone else, but to me something infinitely worse. He madeodious love to me, boasted of his wealth, said that if I married himI could have the finest diamonds in London, and finally, when Iwould have nothing to do with him, he seized me in his arms oneday after dinner—he was hideously strong—and swore that hewould not let me go until I had kissed him. Mr. Carruthers camein and tore him from me, on which he turned upon his own host,knocking him down and cutting his face open. That was the endof his visit, as you can imagine. Mr. Carruthers apologized to menext day, and assured me that I should never be exposed to suchan insult again. I have not seen Mr. Woodley since.
“And now, Mr. Holmes, I come at last to the special thingwhich has caused me to ask your advice to-day. You must knowthat every Saturday forenoon I ride on my bicycle to FarnhamStation, in order to get the 12:22 to town. The road from ChilternGrange is a lonely one, and at one spot it is particularly so, for itlies for over a mile between Charlington Heath upon one side andthe woods which lie round Charlington Hall upon the other. Youcould not find a more lonely tract of road anywhere, and it is quiterare to meet so much as a cart, or a peasant, until you reach thehigh road near Crooksbury Hill. Two weeks ago I was passing thisplace, when I chanced to look back over my shoulder, and abouttwo hundred yards behind me I saw a man, also on a bicycle. Heseemed to be a middle-aged man, with a short, dark beard. I lookedback before I reached Farnham, but the man was gone, so I thoughtno more about it. But you can imagine how surprised I was, Mr.
Holmes, when, on my return on the Monday, I saw the same man onthe same stretch of road. My astonishment was increased when theincident occurred again, exactly as before, on the following Saturdayand Monday. He always kept his distance and did not molest me inany way, but still it certainly was very odd. I mentioned it to Mr.
Carruthers, who seemed interested in what I said, and told me thathe had ordered a horse and trap, so that in future I should not passover these lonely roads without some companion.
