“Well, I was trying to express it as delicately as I could, but ifyou insist upon the word I will not contradict you.”
I sprang to my feet, for the expression upon the millionaire’sface was fiendish in its intensity, and he had raised his greatknotted fist. Holmes smiled languidly and reached his hand outfor his pipe.
“Don’t be noisy, Mr. Gibson. I find that after breakfast eventhe smallest argument is unsettling. I suggest that a stroll inthe morning air and a little quiet thought will be greatly to youradvantage.”
With an effort the Gold King mastered his fury. I could not butadmire him, for by a supreme self-command he had turned in aminute from a hot flame of anger to a frigid and contemptuousindifference.
“Well, it’s your choice. I guess you know how to run your ownbusiness. I can’t make you touch the case against your will. You’vedone yourself no good this morning, Mr. Holmes, for I havebroken stronger men than you. No man ever crossed me and wasthe better for it.”
“So many have said so, and yet here I am,” said Holmes, smiling.
“Well, good-morning, Mr. Gibson. You have a good deal yet tolearn.”
Our visitor made a noisy exit, but Holmes smoked inimperturbable silence with dreamy eyes fixed upon the ceiling.
“Any views, Watson?” he asked at last.
“Well, Holmes, I must confess that when I consider that this isa man who would certainly brush any obstacle from his path, andwhen I remember that his wife may have been an obstacle andan object of dislike, as that man Bates plainly told us, it seems tome——”
“Exactly. And to me also.”
“But what were his relations with the governess, and how didyou discover them?”
“Bluff, Watson, bluff ! When I considered the passionate,unconventional, unbusinesslike tone of his letter and contrastedit with his self-contained manner and appearance, it was prettyclear that there was some deep emotion which centred uponthe accused woman rather than upon the victim. We’ve got tounderstand the exact relations of those three people if we are toreach the truth. You saw the frontal attack which I made uponhim, and how imperturbably he received it. Then I bluffed him bygiving him the impression that I was absolutely certain, when inreality I was only extremely suspicious.”
“Perhaps he will come back?”
“He is sure to come back. He must come back. He can’t leaveit where it is. Ha! isn’t that a ring? Yes, there is his footstep.
Well, Mr. Gibson, I was just saying to Dr. Watson that you weresomewhat overdue.”
The Gold King had reentered the room in a more chastenedmood than he had left it. His wounded pride still showed in hisresentful eyes, but his common sense had shown him that he mustyield if he would attain his end.
“I’ve been thinking it over, Mr. Holmes, and I feel that I havebeen hasty in taking your remarks amiss. You are justified ingetting down to the facts, whatever they may be, and I think themore of you for it. I can assure you, however, that the relationsbetween Miss Dunbar and me don’t really touch this case.”
“That is for me to decide, is it not?”
“Yes, I guess that is so. You’re like a surgeon who wants everysymptom before he can give his diagnosis.”
“Exactly. That expresses it. And it is only a patient who has anobject in deceiving his surgeon who would conceal the facts of hiscase.”
“That may be so, but you will admit, Mr. Holmes, that mostmen would shy off a bit when they are asked point-blank whattheir relations with a woman may be—if there is really someserious feeling in the case. I guess most men have a little privatereserve of their own in some corner of their souls where they don’twelcome intruders. And you burst suddenly into it. But the objectexcuses you, since it was to try and save her. Well, the stakes aredown and the reserve open, and you can explore where you will.
What is it you want?”
“The truth.”
The Gold King paused for a moment as one who marshals histhoughts. His grim, deep-lined face had become even sadder andmore grave.
“I can give it to you in a very few words, Mr. Holmes,” said heat last. “There are some things that are painful as well as difficultto say, so I won’t go deeper than is needful. I met my wife whenI was gold-hunting in Brazil. Maria Pinto was the daughter of agovernment official at Manaos, and she was very beautiful. I wasyoung and ardent in those days, but even now, as I look backwith colder blood and a more critical eye, I can see that she wasrare and wonderful in her beauty. It was a deep rich nature, too,passionate, whole-hearted, tropical, ill-balanced, very differentfrom the American women whom I had known. Well, to make along story short, I loved her and I married her. It was only whenthe romance had passed—and it lingered for years—that I realizedthat we had nothing—absolutely nothing—in common. My lovefaded. If hers had faded also it might have been easier. But youknow the wonderful way of women! Do what I might, nothingcould turn her from me. If I have been harsh to her, even brutal assome have said, it has been because I knew that if I could kill herlove, or if it turned to hate, it would be easier for both of us. Butnothing changed her. She adored me in those English woods as shehad adored me twenty years ago on the banks of the Amazon. Dowhat I might, she was as devoted as ever.
“Then came Miss Grace Dunbar. She answered our advertisementand became governess to our two children. Perhaps you have seenher portrait in the papers. The whole world has proclaimed thatshe also is a very beautiful woman. Now, I make no pretence tobe more moral than my neighbours, and I will admit to you that Icould not live under the same roof with such a woman and in dailycontact with her without feeling a passionate regard for her. Doyou blame me, Mr. Holmes?”
“I do not blame you for feeling it. I should blame you if youexpressed it, since this young lady was in a sense under yourprotection.”
