The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax

By

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

"But why Turkish?" asked Mr. Sherlock Holmes, gazing fixedly at myboots. I was reclining in a cane-backed chair at the moment, and myprotruded feet had attracted his ever-active attention. 

"English, " I answered in some surprise. "I got them at Latimer's, inOxford Street. "

Holmes smiled with an expression of weary patience. 

"The bath!" he said; "the bath! Why the relaxing and expensive Turkishrather than the invigorating home-made article?"

"Because for the last few days I have been feeling rheumatic and old. ATurkish bath is what we call an alterative in medicine--a freshstarting-point, a cleanser of the system. 

"By the way, Holmes, " I added, "I have no doubt the connection betweenmy boots and a Turkish bath is a perfectly self-evident one to alogical mind, and yet I should be obliged to you if you would indicateit. "

"The train of reasoning is not very obscure, Watson, " said Holmes witha mischievous twinkle. "It belongs to the same elementary class ofdeduction which I should illustrate if I were to ask you who sharedyour cab in your drive this morning. "

"I don't admit that a fresh illustration is an explanation, " said Iwith some asperity. 

"Bravo, Watson! A very dignified and logical remonstrance. Let mesee, what were the points? Take the last one first--the cab. Youobserve that you have some splashes on the left sleeve and shoulder ofyour coat. Had you sat in the centre of a hansom you would probablyhave had no splashes, and if you had they would certainly have beensymmetrical. Therefore it is clear that you sat at the side. Therefore it is equally clear that you had a companion. "

"That is very evident. "

"Absurdly commonplace, is it not?"

"But the boots and the bath?"

"Equally childish. You are in the habit of doing up your boots in acertain way. I see them on this occasion fastened with an elaboratedouble bow, which is not your usual method of tying them. You have, therefore, had them off. Who has tied them? A bootmaker--or the boyat the bath. It is unlikely that it is the bootmaker, since your bootsare nearly new. Well, what remains? The bath. Absurd, is it not?But, for all that, the Turkish bath has served a purpose. "

"What is that?"

"You say that you have had it because you need a change. Let mesuggest that you take one. How would Lausanne do, my dearWatson--first-class tickets and all expenses paid on a princely scale?"

"Splendid! But why?"

Holmes leaned back in his armchair and took his notebook from hispocket. 

"One of the most dangerous classes in the world, " said he, "is thedrifting and friendless woman. She is the most harmless and often themost useful of mortals, but she is the inevitable inciter of crime inothers. She is helpless. She is migratory. She has sufficient meansto take her from country to country and from hotel to hotel. She islost, as often as not, in a maze of obscure pensions andboardinghouses. She is a stray chicken in a world of foxes. When sheis gobbled up she is hardly missed. I much fear that some evil has cometo the Lady Frances Carfax. "

I was relieved at this sudden descent from the general to theparticular. Holmes consulted his notes. 

"Lady Frances, " he continued, "is the sole survivor of the directfamily of the late Earl of Rufton. The estates went, as you mayremember, in the male line. She was left with limited means, but withsome very remarkable old Spanish jewellery of silver and curiously cutdiamonds to which she was fondly attached--too attached, for sherefused to leave them with her banker and always carried them aboutwith her. A rather pathetic figure, the Lady Frances, a beautifulwoman, still in fresh middle age, and yet, by a strange change, thelast derelict of what only twenty years ago was a goodly fleet. "

"What has happened to her, then?"

"Ah, what has happened to the Lady Frances? Is she alive or dead?There is our problem. She is a lady of precise habits, and for fouryears it has been her invariable custom to write every second week toMiss Dobney, her old governess, who has long retired and lives inCamberwell. It is this Miss Dobney who has consulted me. Nearly fiveweeks have passed without a word. The last letter was from the HotelNational at Lausanne. Lady Frances seems to have left there and givenno address. The family are anxious, and as they are exceedinglywealthy no sum will be spared if we can clear the matter up. "

"Is Miss Dobney the only source of information? Surely she had othercorrespondents?"

"There is one correspondent who is a sure draw, Watson. That is thebank. Single ladies must live, and their passbooks are compresseddiaries. She banks at Silvester's. I have glanced over her account. The last check but one paid her bill at Lausanne, but it was a largeone and probably left her with cash in hand. Only one check has beendrawn since. "

"To whom, and where?"

"To Miss Marie Devine. There is nothing to show where the check wasdrawn. It was cashed at the Credit Lyonnais at Montpellier less thanthree weeks ago. The sum was fifty pounds. "

"And who is Miss Marie Devine?"

"That also I have been able to discover. Miss Marie Devine was themaid of Lady Frances Carfax. Why she should have paid her this checkwe have not yet determined. I have no doubt, however, that yourresearches will soon clear the matter up. "

"MY researches!"

"Hence the health-giving expedition to Lausanne. You know that Icannot possibly leave London while old Abrahams is in such mortalterror of his life. Besides, on general principles it is best that Ishould not leave the country. Scotland Yard feels lonely without me, and it causes an unhealthy excitement among the criminal classes. Go, then, my dear Watson, and if my humble counsel can ever be valued at soextravagant a rate as two pence a word, it waits your disposal nightand day at the end of the Continental wire. "

Two days later found me at the Hotel National at Lausanne, where Ireceived every courtesy at the hands of M. Moser, the well-knownmanager. Lady Frances, as he informed me, had stayed there for severalweeks. She had been much liked by all who met her. Her age was notmore than forty. She was still handsome and bore every sign of havingin her youth been a very lovely woman. M. Moser knew nothing of anyvaluable jewellery, but it had been remarked by the servants that theheavy trunk in the lady's bedroom was always scrupulously locked. Marie Devine, the maid, was as popular as her mistress. She wasactually engaged to one of the head waiters in the hotel, and there wasno difficulty in getting her address. It was 11 Rue de Trajan, Montpellier. All this I jotted down and felt that Holmes himself couldnot have been more adroit in collecting his facts. 

Only one corner still remained in the shadow. No light which Ipossessed could clear up the cause for the lady's sudden departure. She was very happy at Lausanne. There was every reason to believe thatshe intended to remain for the season in her luxurious roomsoverlooking the lake. And yet she had left at a single day's notice, which involved her in the useless payment of a week's rent. Only JulesVibart, the lover of the maid, had any suggestion to offer. Heconnected the sudden departure with the visit to the hotel a day or twobefore of a tall, dark, bearded man. "Un sauvage--un veritablesauvage!" cried Jules Vibart. The man had rooms somewhere in the town. He had been seen talking earnestly to Madame on the promenade by thelake. Then he had called. She had refused to see him. He wasEnglish, but of his name there was no record. Madame had left theplace immediately afterwards. Jules Vibart, and, what was of moreimportance, Jules Vibart's sweetheart, thought that this call and thedeparture were cause and effect. Only one thing Jules would notdiscuss. That was the reason why Marie had left her mistress. Of thathe could or would say nothing. If I wished to know, I must go toMontpellier and ask her. 

So ended the first chapter of my inquiry. The second was devoted tothe place which Lady Frances Carfax had sought when she left Lausanne. Concerning this there had been some secrecy, which confirmed the ideathat she had gone with the intention of throwing someone off her track. Otherwise why should not her luggage have been openly labelled forBaden? Both she and it reached the Rhenish spa by some circuitousroute. This much I gathered from the manager of Cook's local office. So to Baden I went, after dispatching to Holmes an account of all myproceedings and receiving in reply a telegram of half-humorouscommendation. 

At Baden the track was not difficult to follow. Lady Frances hadstayed at the Englischer Hof for a fortnight. While there she had madethe acquaintance of a Dr. Shlessinger and his wife, a missionary fromSouth America. Like most lonely ladies, Lady Frances found her comfortand occupation in religion. Dr. Shlessinger's remarkable personality, his whole hearted devotion, and the fact that he was recovering from adisease contracted in the exercise of his apostolic duties affected herdeeply. She had helped Mrs. Shlessinger in the nursing of theconvalescent saint. He spent his day, as the manager described it tome, upon a lounge-chair on the veranda, with an attendant lady uponeither side of him. He was preparing a map of the Holy Land, withspecial reference to the kingdom of the Midianites, upon which he waswriting a monograph. Finally, having improved much in health, he andhis wife had returned to London, and Lady Frances had started thitherin their company. This was just three weeks before, and the managerhad heard nothing since. As to the maid, Marie, she had gone off somedays beforehand in floods of tears, after informing the other maidsthat she was leaving service forever. Dr. Shlessinger had paid thebill of the whole party before his departure. 

"By the way, " said the landlord in conclusion, "you are not the onlyfriend of Lady Frances Carfax who is inquiring after her just now. Only a week or so ago we had a man here upon the same errand. "

"Did he give a name?" I asked. 

"None; but he was an Englishman, though of an unusual type. "

"A savage?" said I, linking my facts after the fashion of myillustrious friend. 

"Exactly. That describes him very well. He is a bulky, bearded, sunburned fellow, who looks as if he would be more at home in afarmers' inn than in a fashionable hotel. A hard, fierce man, I shouldthink, and one whom I should be sorry to offend. "

Already the mystery began to define itself, as figures grow clearerwith the lifting of a fog. Here was this good and pious lady pursuedfrom place to place by a sinister and unrelenting figure. She fearedhim, or she would not have fled from Lausanne. He had still followed. Sooner or later he would overtake her. Had he already overtaken her?Was THAT the secret of her continued silence? Could the good peoplewho were her companions not screen her from his violence or hisblackmail? What horrible purpose, what deep design, lay behind thislong pursuit? There was the problem which I had to solve. 

To Holmes I wrote showing how rapidly and surely I had got down to theroots of the matter. In reply I had a telegram asking for adescription of Dr. Shlessinger's left ear. Holmes's ideas of humourare strange and occasionally offensive, so I took no notice of hisill-timed jest--indeed, I had already reached Montpellier in my pursuitof the maid, Marie, before his message came. 

I had no difficulty in finding the ex-servant and in learning all thatshe could tell me. She was a devoted creature, who had only left hermistress because she was sure that she was in good hands, and becauseher own approaching marriage made a separation inevitable in any case. Her mistress had, as she confessed with distress, shown someirritability of temper towards her during their stay in Baden, and hadeven questioned her once as if she had suspicions of her honesty, andthis had made the parting easier than it would otherwise have been. Lady Frances had given her fifty pounds as a wedding-present. Like me, Marie viewed with deep distrust the stranger who had driven hermistress from Lausanne. With her own eyes she had seen him seize thelady's wrist with great violence on the public promenade by the lake. He was a fierce and terrible man. She believed that it was out ofdread of him that Lady Frances had accepted the escort of theShlessingers to London. She had never spoken to Marie about it, butmany little signs had convinced the maid that her mistress lived in astate of continual nervous apprehension. So far she had got in hernarrative, when suddenly she sprang from her chair and her face wasconvulsed with surprise and fear. "See!" she cried. "The miscreantfollows still! There is the very man of whom I speak. "

Through the open sitting-room window I saw a huge, swarthy man with abristling black beard walking slowly down the centre of the street andstaring eagerly at he numbers of the houses. It was clear that, likemyself, he was on the track of the maid. Acting upon the impulse of themoment, I rushed out and accosted him. 

"You are an Englishman, " I said. 

"What if I am?" he asked with a most villainous scowl. 

"May I ask what your name is?"

"No, you may not, " said he with decision. 

The situation was awkward, but the most direct way is often the best. 

"Where is the Lady Frances Carfax?" I asked. 

He stared at me with amazement. 

"What have you done with her? Why have you pursued her? I insist uponan answer!" said I. 

The fellow gave a below of anger and sprang upon me like a tiger. Ihave held my own in many a struggle, but the man had a grip of iron andthe fury of a fiend. His hand was on my throat and my senses werenearly gone before an unshaven French ouvrier in a blue blouse dartedout from a cabaret opposite, with a cudgel in his hand, and struck myassailant a sharp crack over the forearm, which made him leave go hishold. He stood for an instant fuming with rage and uncertain whetherhe should not renew his attack. Then, with a snarl of anger, he left meand entered the cottage from which I had just come. I turned to thankmy preserver, who stood beside me in the roadway. 

"Well, Watson, " said he, "a very pretty hash you have made of it! Irather think you had better come back with me to London by the nightexpress. "

An hour afterwards, Sherlock Holmes, in his usual garb and style, wasseated in my private room at the hotel. His explanation of his suddenand opportune appearance was simplicity itself, for, finding that hecould get away from London, he determined to head me off at the nextobvious point of my travels. In the disguise of a workingman he hadsat in the cabaret waiting for my appearance. 

"And a singularly consistent investigation you have made, my dearWatson, " said he. "I cannot at the moment recall any possible blunderwhich you have omitted. The total effect of your proceeding has beento give the alarm everywhere and yet to discover nothing. "

"Perhaps you would have done no better, " I answered bitterly. 

"There is no 'perhaps' about it. I HAVE done better. Here is the Hon. Philip Green, who is a fellow-lodger with you in this hotel, and we mayfind him the starting-point for a more successful investigation. "

A card had come up on a salver, and it was followed by the same beardedruffian who had attacked me in the street. He started when he saw me. 

"What is this, Mr. Holmes?" he asked. "I had your note and I havecome. But what has this man to do with the matter?"

"This is my old friend and associate, Dr. Watson, who is helping us inthis affair. "

The stranger held out a huge, sunburned hand, with a few words ofapology. 

"I hope I didn't harm you. When you accused me of hurting her I lostmy grip of myself. Indeed, I'm not responsible in these days. Mynerves are like live wires. But this situation is beyond me. What Iwant to know, in the first place, Mr. Holmes, is, how in the world youcame to hear of my existence at all. "

"I am in touch with Miss Dobney, Lady Frances's governess. "

"Old Susan Dobney with the mob cap! I remember her well. "

"And she remembers you. It was in the days before--before you found itbetter to go to South Africa. "

"Ah, I see you know my whole story. I need hide nothing from you. Iswear to you, Mr. Holmes, that there never was in this world a man wholoved a woman with a more wholehearted love than I had for Frances. Iwas a wild youngster, I know--not worse than others of my class. Buther mind was pure as snow. She could not bear a shadow of coarseness. So, when she came to hear of things that I had done, she would have nomore to say to me. And yet she loved me--that is the wonder ofit!--loved me well enough to remain single all her sainted days justfor my sake alone. When the years had passed and I had made my moneyat Barberton I thought perhaps I could seek her out and soften her. Ihad heard that she was still unmarried, I found her at Lausanne andtried all I knew. She weakened, I think, but her will was strong, andwhen next I called she had left the town. I traced her to Baden, andthen after a time heard that her maid was here. I'm a rough fellow, fresh from a rough life, and when Dr. Watson spoke to me as he did Ilost hold of myself for a moment. But for God's sake tell me what hasbecome of the Lady Frances. "

"That is for us to find out, " said Sherlock Holmes with peculiargravity. "What is your London address, Mr. Green?"

"The Langham Hotel will find me. "

"Then may I recommend that you return there and be on hand in case Ishould want you? I have no desire to encourage false hopes, but youmay rest assured that all that can be done will be done for the safetyof Lady Frances. I can say no more for the instant. I will leave youthis card so that you may be able to keep in touch with us. Now, Watson, if you will pack your bag I will cable to Mrs. Hudson to makeone of her best efforts for two hungry travellers at 7:30 to-morrow. "

A telegram was awaiting us when we reached our Baker Street rooms, which Holmes read with an exclamation of interest and threw across tome. "Jagged or torn, " was the message, and the place of origin, Baden. 

"What is this?" I asked. 

"It is everything, " Holmes answered. "You may remember my seeminglyirrelevant question as to this clerical gentleman's left ear. You didnot answer it. "

"I had left Baden and could not inquire. "

"Exactly. For this reason I sent a duplicate to the manager of theEnglischer Hof, whose answer lies here. "

"What does it show?"

"It shows, my dear Watson, that we are dealing with an exceptionallyastute and dangerous man. The Rev. Dr. Shlessinger, missionary fromSouth America, is none other than Holy Peters, one of the mostunscrupulous rascals that Australia has ever evolved--and for a youngcountry it has turned out some very finished types. His particularspecialty is the beguiling of lonely ladies by playing upon theirreligious feelings, and his so-called wife, an Englishwoman namedFraser, is a worthy helpmate. The nature of his tactics suggested hisidentity to me, and this physical peculiarity--he was badly bitten in asaloon-fight at Adelaide in '89--confirmed my suspicion. This poorlady is in the hands of a most infernal couple, who will stick atnothing, Watson. That she is already dead is a very likelysupposition. If not, she is undoubtedly in some sort of confinementand unable to write to Miss Dobney or her other friends. It is alwayspossible that she never reached London, or that she has passed throughit, but the former is improbable, as, with their system ofregistration, it is not easy for foreigners to play tricks with theContinental police; and the latter is also unlikely, as these rougescould not hope to find any other place where it would be as easy tokeep a person under restraint. All my instincts tell me that she is inLondon, but as we have at present no possible means of telling where, we can only take the obvious steps, eat our dinner, and possess oursouls in patience. Later in the evening I will stroll down and have aword with friend Lestrade at Scotland Yard. "

But neither the official police nor Holmes's own small but veryefficient organization sufficed to clear away the mystery. Amid thecrowded millions of London the three persons we sought were ascompletely obliterated as if they had never lived. Advertisements weretried, and failed. Clues were followed, and led to nothing. Everycriminal resort which Shlessinger might frequent was drawn in vain. His old associates were watched, but they kept clear of him. And thensuddenly, after a week of helpless suspense there came a flash oflight. A silver-and-brilliant pendant of old Spanish design had beenpawned at Bovington's, in Westminster Road. The pawner was a large, clean-shaven man of clerical appearance. His name and address weredemonstrably false. The ear had escaped notice, but the descriptionwas surely that of Shlessinger. 

Three times had our bearded friend from the Langham called fornews--the third time within an hour of this fresh development. Hisclothes were getting looser on his great body. He seemed to be wiltingaway in his anxiety. "If you will only give me something to do!" washis constant wail. At last Holmes could oblige him. 

"He has begun to pawn the jewels. We should get him now. "

"But does this mean that any harm has befallen the Lady Frances?"

Holmes shook his head very gravely. 

"Supposing that they have held her prisoner up to now, it is clear thatthey cannot let her loose without their own destruction. We mustprepare for the worst. "

"What can I do?"

"These people do not know you by sight?"

"No. "

"It is possible that he will go to some other pawnbroker in the future. In that case, we must begin again. On the other hand, he has had afair price and no questions asked, so if he is in need of ready-moneyhe will probably come back to Bovington's. I will give you a note tothem, and they will let you wait in the shop. If the fellow comes youwill follow him home. But no indiscretion, and, above all, noviolence. I put you on your honour that you will take no step withoutmy knowledge and consent. "

For two days the Hon. Philip Green (he was, I may mention, the son ofthe famous admiral of that name who commanded the Sea of Azof fleet inthe Crimean War) brought us no news. On the evening of the third herushed into our sitting-room, pale, trembling, with every muscle of hispowerful frame quivering with excitement. 

"We have him! We have him!" he cried. 

He was incoherent in his agitation. Holmes soothed him with a fewwords and thrust him into an armchair. 

"Come, now, give us the order of events, " said he. 

"She came only an hour ago. It was the wife, this time, but thependant she brought was the fellow of the other. She is a tall, palewoman, with ferret eyes. "

"That is the lady, " said Holmes. 

"She left the office and I followed her. She walked up the KenningtonRoad, and I kept behind her. Presently she went into a shop. Mr. Holmes, it was an undertaker's. "

My companion started. "Well?" he asked in that vibrant voice whichtold of the fiery soul behind the cold gray face. 

"She was talking to the woman behind the counter. I entered as well. 'It is late, ' I heard her say, or words to that effect. The woman wasexcusing herself. 'It should be there before now, ' she answered. 'Ittook longer, being out of the ordinary. ' They both stopped and lookedat me, so I asked some questions and then left the shop. "

"You did excellently well. What happened next?"

"The woman came out, but I had hid myself in a doorway. Her suspicionshad been aroused, I think, for she looked round her. Then she called acab and got in. I was lucky enough to get another and so to followher. She got down at last at No. 36, Poultney Square, Brixton. Idrove past, left my cab at the corner of the square, and watched thehouse. "

"Did you see anyone?"

"The windows were all in darkness save one on the lower floor. Theblind was down, and I could not see in. I was standing there, wondering what I should do next, when a covered van drove up with twomen in it. They descended, took something out of the van, and carriedit up the steps to the hall door. Mr. Holmes, it was a coffin. "

"Ah!"

"For an instant I was on the point of rushing in. The door had beenopened to admit the men and their burden. It was the woman who hadopened it. But as I stood there she caught a glimpse of me, and Ithink that she recognized me. I saw her start, and she hastily closedthe door. I remembered my promise to you, and here I am. "

"You have done excellent work, " said Holmes, scribbling a few wordsupon a half-sheet of paper. "We can do nothing legal without awarrant, and you can serve the cause best by taking this note down tothe authorities and getting one. There may be some difficulty, but Ishould think that the sale of the jewellery should be sufficient. Lestrade will see to all details. "

"But they may murder her in the meanwhile. What could the coffin mean, and for whom could it be but for her?"

"We will do all that can be done, Mr. Green. Not a moment will belost. Leave it in our hands. Now Watson, " he added as our clienthurried away, "he will set the regular forces on the move. We are, asusual, the irregulars, and we must take our own line of action. Thesituation strikes me as so desperate that the most extreme measures arejustified. Not a moment is to be lost in getting to Poultney Square. 

"Let us try to reconstruct the situation, " said he as we drove swiftlypast the Houses of Parliament and over Westminster Bridge. "Thesevillains have coaxed this unhappy lady to London, after firstalienating her from her faithful maid. If she has written any lettersthey have been intercepted. Through some confederate they have engageda furnished house. Once inside it, they have made her a prisoner, andthey have become possessed of the valuable jewellery which has beentheir object from the first. Already they have begun to sell part ofit, which seems safe enough to them, since they have no reason to thinkthat anyone is interested in the lady's fate. When she is released shewill, of course, denounce them. Therefore, she must not be released. But they cannot keep her under lock and key forever. So murder is theironly solution. "

"That seems very clear. "

"Now we will take another line of reasoning. When you follow twoseparate chains of thought, Watson, you will find some point ofintersection which should approximate to the truth. We will start now, not from the lady but from the coffin and argue backward. Thatincident proves, I fear, beyond all doubt that the lady is dead. Itpoints also to an orthodox burial with proper accompaniment of medicalcertificate and official sanction. Had the lady been obviouslymurdered, they would have buried her in a hole in the back garden. Buthere all is open and regular. What does this mean? Surely that theyhave done her to death in some way which has deceived the doctor andsimulated a natural end--poisoning, perhaps. And yet how strange thatthey should ever let a doctor approach her unless he were aconfederate, which is hardly a credible proposition. "

"Could they have forged a medical certificate?"

"Dangerous, Watson, very dangerous. No, I hardly see them doing that. Pull up, cabby! This is evidently the undertaker's, for we have justpassed the pawnbroker's. Would you go in, Watson? Your appearanceinspires confidence. Ask what hour the Poultney Square funeral takesplace to-morrow. "

The woman in the shop answered me without hesitation that it was to beat eight o'clock in the morning. "You see, Watson, no mystery;everything above-board! In some way the legal forms have undoubtedlybeen complied with, and they think that they have little to fear. Well, there's nothing for it now but a direct frontal attack. Are youarmed?"

"My stick!"

"Well, well, we shall be strong enough. 'Thrice is he armed who hathhis quarrel just. ' We simply can't afford to wait for the police or tokeep within the four corners of the law. You can drive off, cabby. Now, Watson, we'll just take our luck together, as we have occasionallyin the past. "

He had rung loudly at the door of a great dark house in the centre ofPoultney Square. It was opened immediately, and the figure of a tallwoman was outlined against the dim-lit hall. 

"Well, what do you want?" she asked sharply, peering at us through thedarkness. 

"I want to speak to Dr. Shlessinger, " said Holmes. 

"There is no such person here, " she answered, and tried to close thedoor, but Holmes had jammed it with his foot. 

"Well, I want to see the man who lives here, whatever he may callhimself, " said Holmes firmly. 

She hesitated. Then she threw open the door. "Well, come in!" saidshe. "My husband is not afraid to face any man in the world. " Sheclosed the door behind us and showed us into a sitting-room on theright side of the hall, turning up the gas as she left us. "Mr. Peterswill be with you in an instant, " she said. 

Her words were literally true, for we had hardly time to look aroundthe dusty and moth-eaten apartment in which we found ourselves beforethe door opened and a big, clean-shaven bald-headed man stepped lightlyinto the room. He had a large red face, with pendulous cheeks, and ageneral air of superficial benevolence which was marred by a cruel, vicious mouth. 

"There is surely some mistake here, gentlemen, " he said in an unctuous, make-everything-easy voice. "I fancy that you have been misdirected. Possibly if you tried farther down the street--"

"That will do; we have no time to waste, " said my companion firmly. "You are Henry Peters, of Adelaide, late the Rev. Dr. Shlessinger, ofBaden and South America. I am as sure of that as that my own name isSherlock Holmes. "

Peters, as I will now call him, started and stared hard at hisformidable pursuer. "I guess your name does not frighten me, Mr. Holmes, " said he coolly. "When a man's conscience is easy you can'trattle him. What is your business in my house?"

"I want to know what you have done with the Lady Frances Carfax, whomyou brought away with you from Baden. "

"I'd be very glad if you could tell me where that lady may be, " Petersanswered coolly. "I've a bill against her for a nearly a hundredpounds, and nothing to show for it but a couple of trumpery pendantsthat the dealer would hardly look at. She attached herself to Mrs. Peters and me at Baden--it is a fact that I was using another name atthe time--and she stuck on to us until we came to London. I paid herbill and her ticket. Once in London, she gave us the slip, and, as Isay, left these out-of-date jewels to pay her bills. You find her, Mr. Holmes, and I'm your debtor. "

"I MEAN to find her, " said Sherlock Holmes. "I'm going through thishouse till I do find her. "

"Where is your warrant?"

Holmes half drew a revolver from his pocket. "This will have to servetill a better one comes. "

"Why, you're a common burglar. "

"So you might describe me, " said Holmes cheerfully. "My companion isalso a dangerous ruffian. And together we are going through yourhouse. "

Our opponent opened the door. 

"Fetch a policeman, Annie!" said he. There was a whisk of feminineskirts down the passage, and the hall door was opened and shut. 

"Our time is limited, Watson, " said Holmes. "If you try to stop us, Peters, you will most certainly get hurt. Where is that coffin whichwas brought into your house?"

"What do you want with the coffin? It is in use. There is a body init. "

"I must see the body. "

"Never with my consent. "

"Then without it. " With a quick movement Holmes pushed the fellow toone side and passed into the hall. A door half opened stoodimmediately before us. We entered. It was the dining-room. On thetable, under a half-lit chandelier, the coffin was lying. Holmesturned up the gas and raised the lid. Deep down in the recesses of thecoffin lay an emaciated figure. The glare from the lights above beatdown upon an aged and withered face. By no possible process of cruelty, starvation, or disease could this wornout wreck be the still beautifulLady Frances. Holmes's face showed his amazement, and also his relief. 

"Thank God!" he muttered. "It's someone else. "

"Ah, you've blundered badly for once, Mr. Sherlock Holmes, " saidPeters, who had followed us into the room. 

"Who is the dead woman?"

"Well, if you really must know, she is an old nurse of my wife's, RoseSpender by name, whom we found in the Brixton Workhouse Infirmary. Webrought her round here, called in Dr. Horsom, of 13 FirbankVillas--mind you take the address, Mr. Holmes--and had her carefullytended, as Christian folk should. On the third day shedied--certificate says senile decay--but that's only the doctor'sopinion, and of course you know better. We ordered her funeral to becarried out by Stimson and Co. , of the Kennington Road, who will buryher at eight o'clock to-morrow morning. Can you pick any hole in that, Mr. Holmes? You've made a silly blunder, and you may as well own up toit. I'd give something for a photograph of your gaping, staring facewhen you pulled aside that lid expecting to see the Lady Frances Carfaxand only found a poor old woman of ninety. "

Holmes's expression was as impassive as ever under the jeers of hisantagonist, but his clenched hands betrayed his acute annoyance. 

"I am going through your house, " said he. 

"Are you, though!" cried Peters as a woman's voice and heavy stepssounded in the passage. "We'll soon see about that. This way, officers, if you please. These men have forced their way into myhouse, and I cannot get rid of them. Help me to put them out. "

A sergeant and a constable stood in the doorway. Holmes drew his cardfrom his case. 

"This is my name and address. This is my friend, Dr. Watson. "

"Bless you, sir, we know you very well, " said the sergeant, "but youcan't stay here without a warrant. "

"Of course not. I quite understand that. "

"Arrest him!" cried Peters. 

"We know where to lay our hands on this gentleman if he is wanted, "said the sergeant majestically, "but you'll have to go, Mr. Holmes. "

"Yes, Watson, we shall have to go. "

A minute later we were in the street once more. Holmes was as cool asever, but I was hot with anger and humiliation. The sergeant hadfollowed us. 

"Sorry, Mr. Holmes, but that's the law. "

"Exactly, Sergeant, you could not do otherwise. "

"I expect there was good reason for your presence there. If there isanything I can do--"

"It's a missing lady, Sergeant, and we think she is in that house. Iexpect a warrant presently. "

"Then I'll keep my eye on the parties, Mr. Holmes. If anything comesalong, I will surely let you know. "

It was only nine o'clock, and we were off full cry upon the trail atonce. First we drove to Brixton Workhoused Infirmary, where we foundthat it was indeed the truth that a charitable couple had called somedays before, that they had claimed an imbecile old woman as a formerservant, and that they had obtained permission to take her away withthem. No surprise was expressed at the news that she had since died. 

The doctor was our next goal. He had been called in, had found thewoman dying of pure senility, had actually seen her pass away, and hadsigned the certificate in due form. "I assure you that everything wasperfectly normal and there was no room for foul play in the matter, "said he. Nothing in the house had struck him as suspicious save thatfor people of their class it was remarkable that they should have noservant. So far and no further went the doctor. 

Finally we found our way to Scotland Yard. There had been difficultiesof procedure in regard to the warrant. Some delay was inevitable. Themagistrate's signature might not be obtained until next morning. IfHolmes would call about nine he could go down with Lestrade and see itacted upon. So ended the day, save that near midnight our friend, thesergeant, called to say that he had seen flickering lights here andthere in the windows of the great dark house, but that no one had leftit and none had entered. We could but pray for patience and wait forthe morrow. 

Sherlock Holmes was too irritable for conversation and too restless forsleep. I left him smoking hard, with his heavy, dark brows knottedtogether, and his long, nervous fingers tapping upon the arms of hischair, as he turned over in his mind every possible solution of themystery. Several times in the course of the night I heard him prowlingabout the house. Finally, just after I had been called in the morning, he rushed into my room. He was in his dressing-gown, but his pale, hollow-eyed face told me that his night had been a sleepless one. 

"What time was the funeral? Eight, was it not?" he asked eagerly. "Well, it is 7:20 now. Good heavens, Watson, what has become of anybrains that God has given me? Quick, man, quick! It's life or death--ahundred chances on death to one on life. I'll never forgive myself, never, if we are too late!"

Five minutes had not passed before we were flying in a hansom downBaker Street. But even so it was twenty-five to eight as we passed BigBen, and eight struck as we tore down the Brixton Road. But otherswere late as well as we. Ten minutes after the hour the hearse wasstill standing at the door of the house, and even as our foaming horsecame to a halt the coffin, supported by three men, appeared on thethreshold. Holmes darted forward and barred their way. 

"Take it back!" he cried, laying his hand on the breast of theforemost. "Take it back this instant!"

"What the devil do you mean? Once again I ask you, where is yourwarrant?" shouted the furious Peters, his big red face glaring over thefarther end of the coffin. 

"The warrant is on its way. The coffin shall remain in the house untilit comes. "

The authority in Holmes's voice had its effect upon the bearers. Petershad suddenly vanished into the house, and they obeyed these new orders. "Quick, Watson, quick! Here is a screw-driver!" he shouted as thecoffin was replaced upon the table. "Here's one for you, my man! Asovereign if the lid comes off in a minute! Ask no questions--workaway! That's good! Another! And another! Now pull all together!It's giving! It's giving! Ah, that does it at last. "

With a united effort we tore off the coffin-lid. As we did so therecame from the inside a stupefying and overpowering smell of chloroform. A body lay within, its head all wreathed in cotton-wool, which had beensoaked in the narcotic. Holmes plucked it off and disclosed thestatuesque face of a handsome and spiritual woman of middle age. In aninstant he had passed his arm round the figure and raised her to asitting position. 

"Is she gone, Watson? Is there a spark left? Surely we are not toolate!"

For half an hour it seemed that we were. What with actual suffocation, and what with the poisonous fumes of the chloroform, the Lady Francesseemed to have passed the last point of recall. And then, at last, withartificial respiration, with injected ether, and with every device thatscience could suggest, some flutter of life, some quiver of theeyelids, some dimming of a mirror, spoke of the slowly returning life. A cab had driven up, and Holmes, parting the blind, looked out at it. "Here is Lestrade with his warrant, " said he. "He will find that hisbirds have flown. And here, " he added as a heavy step hurried alongthe passage, "is someone who has a better right to nurse this lady thanwe have. Good morning, Mr. Green; I think that the sooner we can movethe Lady Frances the better. Meanwhile, the funeral may proceed, andthe poor old woman who still lies in that coffin may go to her lastresting-place alone. "

"Should you care to add the case to your annals, my dear Watson, " saidHolmes that evening, "it can only be as an example of that temporaryeclipse to which even the best-balanced mind may be exposed. Suchslips are common to all mortals, and the greatest is he who canrecognize and repair them. To this modified credit I may, perhaps, make some claim. My night was haunted by the thought that somewhere aclue, a strange sentence, a curious observation, had come under mynotice and had been too easily dismissed. Then, suddenly, in the grayof the morning, the words came back to me. It was the remark of theundertaker's wife, as reported by Philip Green. She had said, 'Itshould be there before now. It took longer, being out of theordinary. ' It was the coffin of which she spoke. It had been out ofthe ordinary. That could only mean that it had been made to somespecial measurement. But why? Why? Then in an instant I rememberedthe deep sides, and the little wasted figure at the bottom. Why solarge a coffin for so small a body? To leave room for another body. Both would be buried under the one certificate. It had all been soclear, if only my own sight had not been dimmed. At eight the LadyFrances would be buried. Our one chance was to stop the coffin beforeit left the house. 

"It was a desperate chance that we might find her alive, but it WAS achance, as the result showed. These people had never, to my knowledge, done a murder. They might shrink from actual violence at the last. The could bury her with no sign of how she met her end, and even if shewere exhumed there was a chance for them. I hoped that suchconsiderations might prevail with them. You can reconstruct the scenewell enough. You saw the horrible den upstairs, where the poor ladyhad been kept so long. They rushed in and overpowered her with theirchloroform, carried her down, poured more into the coffin to insureagainst her waking, and then screwed down the lid. A clever device, Watson. It is new to me in the annals of crime. If our ex-missionaryfriends escape the clutches of Lestrade, I shall expect to hear of somebrilliant incidents in their future career. "