“Well, it might be so. Or—well, there is an alternative. Nowto continue our review of the situation from the time that thequarrel, if there is a quarrel, began. The lady keeps her room, altersher habits, is not seen save when she drives out with her maid,refuses to stop at the stables to greet her favourite horse andapparently takes to drink. That covers the case, does it not?”
“Save for the business in the crypt.”
“That is another line of thought. There are two, and I beg youwill not tangle them. Line A, which concerns Lady Beatrice, has avaguely sinister flavour, has it not?”
“I can make nothing of it.”
“Well, now, let us take up line B, which concerns Sir Robert. Heis mad keen upon winning the Derby. He is in the hands of theJews, and may at any moment be sold up and his racing stablesseized by his creditors. He is a daring and desperate man. Hederives his income from his sister. His sister’s maid is his willingtool. So far we seem to be on fairly safe ground, do we not?”
“But the crypt?”
“Ah, yes, the crypt! Let us suppose, Watson—it is merely ascandalous supposition, a hypothesis put forward for argument’ssake—that Sir Robert has done away with his sister.”
“My dear Holmes, it is out of the question.”
“Very possibly, Watson. Sir Robert is a man of an honourablestock. But you do occasionally find a carrion crow among theeagles. Let us for a moment argue upon this supposition. Hecould not fly the country until he had realized his fortune, andthat fortune could only be realized by bringing off this coup withShoscombe Prince. Therefore, he has still to stand his ground. Todo this he would have to dispose of the body of his victim, and hewould also have to find a substitute who would impersonate her.
With the maid as his confidante that would not be impossible.
The woman’s body might be conveyed to the crypt, which is aplace so seldom visited, and it might be secretly destroyed at nightin the furnace, leaving behind it such evidence as we have alreadyseen. What say you to that, Watson?”
“Well, it is all possible if you grant the original monstroussupposition.”
“I think that there is a small experiment which we may try to-morrow, Watson, in order to throw some light on the matter.
Meanwhile, if we mean to keep up our characters, I suggest thatwe have our host in for a glass of his own wine and hold some highconverse upon eels and dace, which seems to be the straight roadto his affections. We may chance to come upon some useful localgossip in the process.”
In the morning Holmes discovered that we had come withoutour spoon-bait for jack, which absolved us from fishing for the day.
About eleven o’clock we started for a walk, and he obtained leaveto take the black spaniel with us.
“This is the place,” said he as we came to two high park gateswith heraldic griffins towering above them. “About midday, MrBarnes informs me, the old lady takes a drive, and the carriagemust slow down while the gates are opened. When it comesthrough, and before it gathers speed, I want you, Watson, to stopthe coachman with some question. Never mind me. I shall standbehind this holly-bush and see what I can see.”
It was not a long vigil. Within a quarter of an hour we saw thebig open yellow barouche coming down the long avenue, with twosplendid, high-stepping gray carriage horses in the shafts. Holmescrouched behind his bush with the dog. I stood unconcernedlyswinging a cane in the roadway. A keeper ran out and the gatesswung open.
The carriage had slowed to a walk, and I was able to get a goodlook at the occupants. A highly coloured young woman with flaxenhair and impudent eyes sat on the left. At her right was an elderlyperson with rounded back and a huddle of shawls about her faceand shoulders which proclaimed the invalid. When the horsesreached the highroad I held up my hand with an authoritativegesture, and as the coachman pulled up I inquired if Sir Robertwas at Shoscombe Old Place.
At the same moment Holmes stepped out and released thespaniel. With a joyous cry it dashed forward to the carriageand sprang upon the step. Then in a moment its eager greetingchanged to furious rage, and it snapped at the black skirt above it.
“Drive on! Drive on!” shrieked a harsh voice. The coachmanlashed the horses, and we were left standing in the roadway.
“Well, Watson, that’s done it,” said Holmes as he fastenedthe lead to the neck of the excited spaniel. “He thought it washis mistress, and he found it was a stranger. Dogs don’t makemistakes.”
“But it was the voice of a man!” I cried.
“Exactly! We have added one card to our hand, Watson, but itneeds careful playing, all the same.”
My companion seemed to have no further plans for the day, andwe did actually use our fishing tackle in the mill-stream with theresult that we had a dish of trout for our supper. It was only afterthat meal that Holmes showed signs of renewed activity. Oncemore we found ourselves upon the same road as in the morning,which led us to the park gates. A tall, dark figure was awaitingus there, who proved to be our London acquaintance, Mr. JohnMason, the trainer.
“Good-evening, gentlemen,” said he. “I got your note, Mr. Holmes. Sir Robert has not returned yet, but I hear that he isexpected to-night.”
“How far is this crypt from the house?” asked Holmes.
“A good quarter of a mile.”
“Then I think we can disregard him altogether.”
“I can’t afford to do that, Mr. Holmes. The moment he arriveshe will want to see me to get the last news of Shoscombe Prince.”
“I see! In that case we must work without you, Mr. Mason. Youcan show us the crypt and then leave us.”
