“She did not think so. But at least you cannot say the same ofmine. I can hardly imagine anything more strange, more utterlyinexplicable, than the situation in which I find myself.”
Holmes rubbed his hands, and his eyes glistened. He leanedforward in his chair with an expression of extraordinary concentrationupon his clear-cut, hawklike features.
“State your case,” said he in brisk business tones.
I felt that my position was an embarrassing one.
“You will, I am sure, excuse me,” I said, rising from my chair.
To my surprise, the young lady held up her gloved hand todetain me.
“If your friend,” she said, “would be good enough to stop, hemight be of inestimable service to me.”
I relapsed into my chair.
“Briefly,” she continued, “the facts are these. My father was anofficer in an Indian regiment, who sent me home when I was quitea child. My mother was dead, and I had no relative in England.
I was placed, however, in a comfortable boarding establishmentat Edinburgh, and there I remained until I was seventeen yearsof age. In the year 1878 my father, who was senior captain of hisregiment, obtained twelve months’ leave and came home. Hetelegraphed to me from London that he had arrived all safe anddirected me to come down at once, giving the Langham Hotelas his address. His message, as I remember, was full of kindnessand love. On reaching London I drove to the Langham and wasinformed that Captain Morstan was staying there, but that he hadgone out the night before and had not returned. I waited all daywithout news of him. That night, on the advice of the managerof the hotel, I communicated with the police, and next morningwe advertised in all the papers. Our inquiries led to no result;and from that day to this no word has ever been heard of myunfortunate father. He came home with his heart full of hope tofind some peace, some comfort, and instead—”
She put her hand to her throat, and a choking sob cut short thesentence.
“The date?” asked Holmes, opening his notebook.
“He disappeared upon the 3d of December, 1878—nearly tenyears ago.”
“His luggage?”
“Remained at the hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest aclue—some clothes, some books, and a considerable number ofcuriosities from the Andaman Islands. He had been one of theofficers in charge of the convict-guard there.”
“Had he any friends in town?”
“Only one that we know of—Major Sholto, of his own regiment, the34th Bombay Infantry. The major had retired some little time beforeand lived at Upper Norwood. We communicated with him, of course,but he did not even know that his brother officer was in England.”
“A singular case,” remarked Holmes.
“I have not yet described to you the most singular part.
About six years ago—to be exact, upon the 4th of May, 1882—anadvertisement appeared in the Times asking for the address ofMiss Mary Morstan and stating that it would be to her advantageto come forward. There was no name or address appended. I hadat that time just entered the family of Mrs. Cecil Forrester in thecapacity of governess. By her advice I published my address inthe advertisement column. The same day there arrived throughthe post a small cardboard box addressed to me, which I foundto contain a very large and lustrous pearl. No word of writing wasenclosed. Since then every year upon the same date there has alwaysappeared a similar box, containing a similar pearl, without any clueas to the sender. They have been pronounced by an expert to be of arare variety and of considerable value. You can see for yourself thatthey are very handsome.
She opened a flat box as she spoke and showed me six of thefinest pearls that I had ever seen.
“Your statement is most interesting,” said Sherlock Holmes.
Has anything else occurred to you?
Yes, and no later than to-day. That is why I have come to you.
This morning I received this letter, which you will perhaps readfor yourself.
“Thank you,” said Holmes. “The envelope, too, please. Postmark,London, S.W. Date, July 7. Hum! Man’s thumb-mark on corner—probably postman. Best quality paper. Envelopes at sixpence apacket. Particular man in his stationery. No address.
‘Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Lyceum Theatre tonightat seven o’clock. If you are distrustful bring two friends. Youare a wronged woman and shall have justice. Do not bring police. Ifyou do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.
Well, really, this is a very pretty little mystery! What do you intendto do, Miss Morstan?
“That is exactly what I want to ask you.”
“Then we shall most certainly go—you and I and—yes, why Dr.Watson is the very man. Your correspondent says two friends. Heand I have worked together before.”
“But would he come?” she asked with something appealing inher voice and expression.
“I should be proud and happy,” said I fervently, “if I can be ofany service.”
“You are both very kind,” she answered. “I have led a retired lifeand have no friends whom I could appeal to. If I am here at six itwill do, I suppose?”
“You must not be later,” said Holmes. “There is one other point,however. Is this handwriting the same as that upon the pearl-boxaddresses?”
“I have them here,” she answered, producing half a dozen piecesof paper.
“You are certainly a model client. You have the correct intuition.
Let us see, now.” He spread out the papers upon the table andgave little darting glances from one to the other. “They aredisguised hands, except the letter,” he said presently; “but therecan be no question as to the authorship. See how the irrepressibleGreek e will break out, and see the twirl of the final s. They areundoubtedly by the same person. I should not like to suggest falsehopes, Miss Morstan, but is there any resemblance between thishand and that of your father?”
“Nothing could be more unlike.”
“I expected to hear you say so. We shall look out for you, then,at six. Pray allow me to keep the papers. I may look into thematter before then. It is only half-past three. Au revoir, then.”
