ADVENTURE XII. THE ADVENTURE OF THE COPPER BEECHES


"To the man who loves art for its own sake," remarked Sherlock Holmes, tossing
aside the advertisement sheet of the Daily Telegraph, "it is frequently in its
least important and lowliest manifestations that the keenest pleasure is to be
derived. It is pleasant to me to observe, Watson, that you have so far grasped
this truth that in these little records of our cases which you have been good
enough to draw up, and, I am bound to say, occasionally to embellish, you have
given prominence not so much to the many causes celebres and sensational trials
in which I have figured but rather to those incidents which may have been
trivial in themselves, but which have given room for those faculties of
deduction and of logical synthesis which I have made my special province."

"And yet," said I, smiling, "I cannot quite hold myself absolved from the
charge of sensationalism which has been urged against my records."

"You have erred, perhaps," he observed, taking up a glowing cinder with the
tongs and lighting with it the long cherry-wood pipe which was wont to replace
his clay when he was in a disputatious rather than a meditative mood--"you have
erred perhaps in attempting to put color and life into each of your statements
instead of confining yourself to the task of placing upon record that severe
reasoning from cause to effect which is really the only notable feature about
the thing."

"It seems to me that I have done you full justice in the matter," I remarked
with some coldness, for I was repelled by the egotism which I had more than
once observed to be a strong factor in my friend's singular character.

"No, it is not selfishness or conceit," said he, answering, as was his wont, my
thoughts rather than my words. "If I claim full justice for my art, it is
because it is an impersonal thing--a thing beyond myself. Crime is common.
Logic is rare. Therefore it is upon the logic rather than upon the crime that
you should dwell. You have degraded what should have been a course of lectures
into a series of tales."

It was a cold morning of the early spring, and we sat after breakfast on either
side of a cheery fire in the old room at Baker Street. A thick fog rolled down
between the lines of dun-colored houses, and the opposing windows loomed like
dark, shapeless blurs through the heavy yellow wreaths. Our gas was lit and
shone on the white cloth and glimmer of china and metal, for the table had not
been cleared yet. Sherlock Holmes had been silent all the morning, dipping
continuously into the advertisement columns of a succession of papers until at
last, having apparently given up his search, he had emerged in no very sweet
temper to lecture me upon my literary shortcomings.

"At the same time," he remarked after a pause, during which he had sat puffing
at his long pipe and gazing down into the fire, "you can hardly be open to a
charge of sensationalism, for out of these cases which you have been so kind as
to interest yourself in, a fair proportion do not treat of crime, in its legal
sense, at all. The small matter in which I endeavored to help the King of
Bohemia, the singular experience of Miss Mary Sutherland, the problem connected
with the man with the twisted lip, and the incident of the noble bachelor, were
all matters which are outside the pale of the law. But in avoiding the
sensational, I fear that you may have bordered on the trivial."

"The end may have been so," I answered, "but the methods I hold to have been
novel and of interest."

"Pshaw, my dear fellow, what do the public, the great unobservant public, who
could hardly tell a weaver by his tooth or a compositor by his left thumb, care
about the finer shades of analysis and deduction! But, indeed, if you are
trivial. I cannot blame you, for the days of the great cases are past. Man, or
at least criminal man, has lost all enterprise and originality. As to my own
little practice, it seems to be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost
lead pencils and giving advice to young ladies from boarding-schools. I think
that I have touched bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning marks
my zero-point, I fancy. Read it!" He tossed a crumpled letter across to me.

It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran thus:

"DEAR MR. HOLMES:--I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I should or
should not accept a situation which has been offered to me as governess. I
shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do not inconvenience you.

Yours faithfully, VIOLET HUNTER."

"Do you know the young lady?" I asked.

"Not I."

"It is half-past ten now."

"Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring."

"It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember that the
affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere whim at first,
developed into a serious investigation. It may be so in this case, also."

"Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for here,
unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question."

As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She was plainly
but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a plover's egg,
and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had her own way to make in the
world.

"You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure," said she, as my companion rose
to greet her, "but I have had a very strange experience, and as I have no
parents or relations of any sort from whom I could ask advice, I thought that
perhaps you would be kind enough to tell me what I should do."

"Pray take a seat, Miss Hunter. I shall be happy to do anything that I can to
serve you."

I could see that Holmes was favorably impressed by the manner and speech of his
new client. He looked her over in his searching fashion, and then composed
himself, with his lids drooping and his finger-tips together, to listen to her
story.

"I have been a governess for five years," said she, "in the family of Colonel
Spence Munro, but two months ago the colonel received an appointment at
Halifax, in Nova Scotia, and took his children over to America with him, so
that I found myself without a situation. I advertised, and I answered
advertisements, but without success. At last the little money which I had saved
began to run short, and I was at my wit's end as to what I should do.

"There is a well-known agency for governesses in the West End called
Westaway's, and there I used to call about once a week in order to see whether
anything had turned up which might suit me. Westaway was the name of the
founder of the business, but it is really managed by Miss Stoper. She sits in
her own little office, and the ladies who are seeking employment wait in an
anteroom, and are then shown in one by one, when she consults her ledgers and
sees whether she has anything which would suit them.

"Well, when I called last week I was shown into the little office as usual, but
I found that Miss Stoper was not alone. A prodigiously stout man with a very
smiling face and a great heavy chin which rolled down in fold upon fold over
his throat sat at her elbow with a pair of glasses on his nose, looking very
earnestly at the ladies who entered. As I came in he gave quite a jump in his
chair and turned quickly to Miss Stoper.

"'That will do,' said he; 'I could not ask for anything better. Capital!
capital!' He seemed quite enthusiastic and rubbed his hands together in the
most genial fashion. He was such a comfortable-looking man that it was quite a
pleasure to look at him.

"'You are looking for a situation, miss?' he asked.

"'Yes, sir.'

"'As governess?'

"'Yes, sir.'

"'And what salary do you ask?'

"'I had 4 pounds a month in my last place with Colonel Spence Munro.'

"'Oh, tut, tut! sweating--rank sweating!' he cried, throwing his fat hands out
into the air like a man who is in a boiling passion. 'How could anyone offer so
pitiful a sum to a lady with such attractions and accomplishments?'

"'My accomplishments, sir, may be less than you imagine,' said I. 'A little
French, a little German, music, and drawing --'

"'Tut, tut!' he cried. 'This is all quite beside the question. The point is,
have you or have you not the bearing and deportment of a lady? There it is in a
nutshell. If you have not, you are not fined for the rearing of a child who may
some day play a considerable part in the history of the country. But if you
have why, then, how could any gentleman ask you to condescend to accept
anything under the three figures? Your salary with me, madam, would commence at
100 pounds a year.'

"You may imagine, Mr. Holmes, that to me, destitute as I was, such an offer
seemed almost too good to be true. The gentleman, however, seeing perhaps the
look of incredulity upon my face, opened a pocket-book and took out a note.

"'It is also my custom,' said he, smiling in the most pleasant fashion until
his eyes were just two little shining slits amid the white creases of his face,
'to advance to my young ladies half their salary beforehand, so that they may
meet any little expenses of their journey and their wardrobe.'

"It seemed to me that I had never met so fascinating and so thoughtful a man.
As I was already in debt to my tradesmen, the advance was a great convenience,
and yet there was something unnatural about the whole transaction which made me
wish to know a little more before I quite committed myself.

"'May I ask where you live, sir?' said I.

"'Hampshire. Charming rural place. The Copper Beeches, five miles on the far
side of Winchester. It is the most lovely country, my dear young lady, and the
dearest old country-house.'

"'And my duties, sir? I should be glad to know what they would be.'

"'One child--one dear little romper just six years old. Oh, if you could see
him killing cockroaches with a slipper! Smack! smack! smack! Three gone before
you could wink!' He leaned back in his chair and laughed his eyes into his head
again.

"I was a little startled at the nature of the child's amusement, but the
father's laughter made me think that perhaps he was joking.

"'My sole duties, then,' I asked, 'are to take charge of a single child?'

"'No, no, not the sole, not the sole, my dear young lady,' he cried. 'Your duty
would be, as I am sure your good sense would suggest, to obey any little
commands my wife might give, provided always that they were such commands as a
lady might with propriety obey. You see no difficulty, heh?'

"'I should be happy to make myself useful.'

"'Quite so. In dress now, for example. We are faddy people, you know--faddy but
kind-hearted. If you were asked to wear any dress which we might give you, you
would not object to our little whim. Heh?'

"'No,' said I, considerably astonished at his words.

"'Or to sit here, or sit there, that would not be offensive to you?'

"'Oh, no.'

"'Or to cut your hair quite short before you come to us?'

"I could hardly believe my ears. As you may observe, Mr. Holmes, my hair is
somewhat luxuriant, and of a rather peculiar tint of chestnut. It has been
considered artistic. I could not dream of sacrificing it in this offhand
fashion.

"'I am afraid that that is quite impossible,' said I. He had been watching me
eagerly out of his small eyes, and I could see a shadow pass over his face as I
spoke.

"'I am afraid that it is quite essential,' said he. 'It is a little fancy of my
wife's, and ladies' fancies, you know, madam, ladies' fancies must be
consulted. And so you won't cut your hair?'

"'No, sir, I really could not,' I answered firmly.

"'Ah, very well; then that quite settles the matter. It is a pity, because in
other respects you would really have done very nicely. In that case, Miss
Stoper, I had best inspect a few more of your young ladies.'

"The manageress had sat all this while busy with her papers without a word to
either of us, but she glanced at me now with so much annoyance upon her face
that I could not help suspecting that she had lost a handsome commission
through my refusal.

"'Do you desire your name to be kept upon the books?' she asked.

"'If you please, Miss Stoper.'

"'Well, really, it seems rather useless, since you refuse the most excellent
offers in this fashion,' said she sharply. 'You can hardly expect us to exert
ourselves to find another such opening for you. Good-day to you, Miss Hunter.'
She struck a gong upon the table, and I was shown out by the page.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, when I got back to my lodgings and found little enough in
the cupboard, and two or three bills upon the table. I began to ask myself
whether I had not done a very foolish thing. After all, if these people had
strange fads and expected obedience on the most extraordinary matters, they
were at least ready to pay for their eccentricity. Very few governesses in
England are getting 100 pounds a year. Besides, what use was my hair to me?
Many people are improved by wearing it short and perhaps I should be among the
number. Next day I was inciined to think that I had made a mistake, and by the
day after I was sure of it. I had almost overcome my pride so far as to go back
to the agency and inquire whether the place was still open when I received this
letter from the gentleman himself. I have it here and I will read it to you:

"'The Copper Beeches, near Winchester. "'DEAR MISS HUNTER:--"Miss Stoper has
very kindly given me your address, and I write from here to ask you whether you
have reconsidered your decision. My wife is very anxious that you should come,
for she has been much attracted by my description of you. We are willing to
give 30 pounds a quarter, or 120 pounds a year, so as to recompense you for any
little inconvenience which our fads may cause you. They are not very exacting,
after all. My wife is fond of a particular shade of electric blue and would
like you to wear such a dress indoors in the morning. You need not, however, go
to the expense of purchasing one, as we have one belonging to my dear daughter
Alice (now in Philadelphia), which would, I should think, fit you very well.
Then, as to sitting here or there,or amusing yourself in any manner indicated,
that need cause you no inconvenience. As regards your hair, it is no doubt a
pity, especially as I could not help remarking its beauty during our short
interview, but I am afraid that I must remain firm upon this point, and I only
hope that the increased salary may recompense you for the loss. Your duties, as
far as the child is concerned, are very light. Now do try to come, and I shall
meet you with the dog-cart at Winchester. Let me know your train. "Yours
faithfully, JEPHRO RUCASTLE.'

"That is the letter which I have just received, Mr. Holmes, and my mind is made
up that I will accept it. I thought, however, that before taking the final step
I should like to submit the whole matter to your consideration."

"Well, Miss Hunter, if your mind is made up, that settles the question," said
Holmes, smiling.

"But you would not advise me to refuse?"

"I confess that it is not the situation which I should like to see a sister of
mine apply for."

"What is the meaning of it all, Mr. Holmes?"

"Ah, I have no data. I cannot tell. Perhaps you have yourself formed some
opinion?"

"Well, there seems to me to be only one possible solution. Mr. Rucastle seemed
to be a very kind, good-natured man. Is it not possible that his wife is a
lunatic, that he desires to keep the matter quiet for fear she should be taken
to an asylum, and that he humours her fancies in every way in order to prevent
an outbreak?"

"That is a possible solution--in fact, as matters stand, it is the most
probable one. But in any case it does not seem to be a nice household for a
young lady."

"But the money, Mr. Holmes the money!"

"Well, yes, of course the pay is good--too good. That is what makes me uneasy.
Why should they give you 120 pounds a year, when they could have their pick for
40 pounds? There must be some strong reason behind."

"I thought that if I told you the circumstances you would understand afterwards
if I wanted your help. I should feel so much stronger if I felt that you were
at the back of me."

"Oh, you may carry that feeling away with you. I assure you that your little
problem promises to be the most interesting which has come my way for some
months. There is something distinctly novel about some of the features. If you
should find yourself in doubt or in danger--"

"Danger! What danger do you foresee?"

Holmes shook his head gravely. "It would cease to be a danger if we could
define it," said he. "But at any time, day or night, a telegram would bring me
down to your help."

"That is enough." She rose briskly from her chair with the anxiety all swept
from her face. "I shall go down to Hampshire quite easy in my mind now. I shall
write to Mr. Rucastle at once, sacrifice my poor hair to-night, and start for
Winchester to-morrow." With a few grateful words to Holmes she bade us both
good-night and bustled off upon her way.

"At least," said I as we heard her quick, firm steps descending the stairs,
"she seems to be a young lady who is very well able to take care of herself."

"And she would need to be," said Holmes gravely. "I am much mistaken if we do
not hear from her before many days are past."

It was not very long before my friend's prediction was fulfilled. A fortnight
went by, during which I frequently found my thoughts turning in her direction
and wondering what strange side-alley of human experience this lonely woman had
strayed into. The unusual salary, the curious conditions, the light duties, all
pointed to something abnormal, though whether a fad or a plot, or whether the
man were a philanthropist or a villain, it was quite beyond my powers to
determine. As to Holmes, I observed that he sat frequently for half an hour on
end, with knitted brows and an abstracted air, but he swept the matter away
with a wave of his hand when I mentioned it. "Data! data! data!" he cried
impatiently. "I can't make bricks without clay." And yet he would always wind
up by muttering that no sister of his should ever have accepted such a
situation.

The telegram which we eventually received came late one night just as I was
thinking of turning in and Holmes was settling down to one of those all-night
chemical researches which he frequently indulged in, when I would leave him
stooping over a retort and a test-tube at night and find him in the same
position when I came down to breakfast in the morning. He opened the yellow
envelope, and then, glancing at the message, threw it across to me.

"Just look up the trains in Bradshaw," said he, and turned back to his chemical
studies.

The summons was a brief and urgent one.

"Please be at the Black Swan Hotel at Winchester at midday to-morrow," it
said."Do come! I am at my wit's end. HUNTER."

"Will you come with me?" asked Holmes, glancing up.

"I should wish to."

"Just look it up, then."

"There is a train at half-past nine," said I, glancing over my Bradshaw. "It is
due at Winchester at 11:30."

"That will do very nicely. Then perhaps I had better postpone my analysis of
the acetones, as we may need to be at our best in the morning."

By eleven o'clock the next day we were well upon our way to the old English
capital. Holmes had been buried in the morning papers all the way down, but
after we had passed the Hampshire border he threw them down and began to admire
the scenery. It was an ideal spring day, a light blue sky, flecked with little
fleecy white clouds drifting across from west to east. The sun was shining very
brightly, and yet there was an exhilarating nip in the air, which set an edge
to a man's energy. All over the countryside, away to the rolling hills around
Aldershot, the little red and gray roofs of the farm-steadings peeped out from
amid the light green of the new foliage.

"Are they not fresh and beautiful?" I cried with all the enthusiasm of a man
fresh from the fogs of Baker Street.

But Holmes shook his head gravely.

"Do you know, Watson," said he, "that it is one of the curses of a mind with a
turn like mine that I must look at everything with reference to my own special
subject. You look at these scattered houses, and you are impressed by their
beauty. I look at them, and the only thought which comes to me is a feeling of
their isolation and of the impunity with which crime may be committed there."

"Good heavens!" I cried. "Who would associate crime with these dear old
homesteads?"

"They always fill me with a certain horror. It is my belief, Watson, founded
upon my experience, that the lowest and vilest alleys in London do not present
a more dreadful record of sin than does the smiling and beautiful countryside."

"You horrify me!"

"But the reason is very obvious. The pressure of public opinion can do in the
town what the law cannot accomplish. There is no lane so vile that the scream
of a tortured child, or the thud of a drunkard's blow, does not beget sympathy
and indignation among the neighbors, and then the whole machinery of justice is
ever so close that a word of complaint can set it going, and there is but a
step between the crime and the dock. But look at these lonely houses, each in
its own fields, filled for the most part with poor ignorant folk who know
little of the law. Think of the deeds of hellish cruelty, the hidden wickedness
which may go on, year in, year out, in such places, and none the wiser. Had
this lady who appeals to us for help gone to live in Winchester, I should never
have had a fear for her. It is the five miles of country which makes the
danger. Still, it is clear that she is not personally threatened."

"No. If she can come to Winchester to meet us she can get away."

"Quite so. She has her freedom."

"What CAN be the matter, then? Can you suggest no explanation?"

"I have devised seven separate explanations, each of which would cover the
facts as far as we know them. But which of these is correct can only be
determined by the fresh information which we shall no doubt find waiting for
us. Well, there is the tower of the cathedral, and we shall soon learn all that
Miss Hunter has to tell."

The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street, at no distance from the
station, and there we found the young lady waiting for us. She had engaged a
sitting-room, and our lunch awaited us upon the table.

"I am so delighted that you have come," she said earnestly. "It is so very kind
of you both; but indeed I do not know what I should do. Your advice will be
altogether invaluable to me."

"Pray tell us what has happened to you."

"I will do so, and I must be quick, for I have promised Mr. Rucastle to be back
before three. I got his leave to come into town this morning, though he little
knew for what purpose."

"Let us have everything in its due order." Holmes thrust his long thin legs out
towards the fire and composed himself to listen.

"In the first place, I may say that I have met, on the whole, with no actual
ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fair to them to say that.
But I cannot understand them, and I am not easy in my mind about them."

"What can you not understand?"

"Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just as it
occurred. When I came down, Mr. Rucastle met me here and drove me in his
dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is, as he said, beautifully situated, but it
is not beautiful in itself, for it is a large square block of a house,
whitewashed, but all stained and streaked with damp and bad weather. There are
grounds round it, woods on three sides, and on the fourth a field which slopes
down to the Southampton highroad, which curves past about a hundred yards from
the front door. This ground in front belongs to the house, but the woods all
round are part of Lord Southerton's preserves. A clump of copper beeches
immediately in front of the hall door has given its name to the place.

"I was driven over by my employer, who was as amiable as ever, and was
introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child. There was no truth,
Mr. Holmes, in the conjecture which seemed to us to be probable in your rooms
at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastle is not mad. I found her to be a silent,
pale-faced woman, much younger than her husband, not more than thirty, I should
think, while he can hardly be less than forty-five. From their conversation I
have gathered that they have been married about seven years, that he was a
widower, and that his only child by the first wife was the daughter who has
gone to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle told me in private that the reason why she
had left them was that she had an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother. As
the daughter could not have been less than twenty, I can quite imagine that her
position must have been uncomfortable with her father's young wife.

"Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colorless in mind as well as in feature. She
impressed me neither favorably nor the reverse. She was a nonentity. It was
easy to see that she was passionately devoted both to her husband and to her
little son. Her light gray eyes wandered continually from one to the other,
noting every little want and forestalling it if possible. He was kind to her
also in his bluff, boisterous fashion, and on the whole they seemed to be a
happy couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow, this woman. She would often
be lost in deep thought, with the saddest look upon her face. More than once I
have surprised her in tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the
disposition of her child which weighed upon her mind, for I have never met so
utterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small for his age,
with a head which is quite disproportionately large. His whole life appears to
be spent in an alternation between savage fits of passion and gloomy intervals
of sulking. Giving pain to any creature weaker than himself seems to be his one
idea of amusement, and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning the capture
of mice, little birds, and insects. But I would rather not talk about the
creature, Mr. Holmes, and, indeed, he has little to do with my story."

"I am glad of all details," remarked my friend, "whether they seem to you to be
relevant or not."

"I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The one unpleasant thing about
the house, which struck me at once, was the appearance and conduct of the
servants. There are only two, a man and his wife. Toller, for that is his name,
is a rough, uncouth man, with grizzled hair and whiskers, and a perpetual smell
of drink. Twice since I have been with them he has been quite drunk, and yet
Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no notice of it. His wife is a very tall and strong
woman with a sour face, as silent as Mrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They
are a most unpleasant couple, but fortunately I spend most of my time in the
nursery and my own room, which are next to each other in one corner of the
building.

"For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my life was very quiet; on
the third, Mrs. Rucastle came down just after breakfast and whispered something
to her husband.

"'Oh, yes,' said he, turning to me, 'we are very much obliged to you, Miss
Hunter, for falling in with our whims so far as to cut your hair. I assure you
that it has not detracted in the tiniest iota from your appearance. We shall
now see how the electric-blue dress will become you. You will find it laid out
upon the bed in your room, and if you would be so good as to put it on we
should both be extremely obliged.'

"The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shade of blue. It was
of excellent material, a sort of beige, but it bore unmistakable signs of
having been worn before. It could not have been a better fit if I had been
measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle expressed a delight at the look of
it, which seemed quite exaggerated in its vehemence. They were waiting for me
in the drawing-room, which is a very large room, stretching along the entire
front of the house, with three long windows reaching down to the floor. A chair
had been placed close to the central window, with its back turned towards it.
In this I was asked to sit, and then Mr. Rucastle, walking up and down on the
other side of the room, began to tell me a series of the funniest stories that
I have ever listened to. You cannot imagine how comical he was, and I laughed
until I was quite weary. Mrs. Rucastle, however, who has evidently no sense of
humour, never so much as smiled, but sat with her hands in her lap, and a sad,
anxious look upon her face. After an hour or so, Mr. Rucastle suddenly remarked
that it was time to commence the duties of the day, and that I might change my
dress and go to little Edward in the nursery.

"Two days later this same performance was gone through under exactly similar
circumstances. Again I changed my dress, again I sat in the window, and again I
laughed very heartily at the funny stories of which my employer had an immense
repertoire, and which he told inimitably. Then he handed me a yellow-backed
novel, and moving my chair a little sideways, that my own shadow might not fall
upon the page, he begged me to read aloud to him. I read for about ten minutes,
beginning in the heart of a chapter, and then suddenly, in the middle of a
sentence, he ordered me to cease and to change my dress.

"You can easily imagine, Mr. Holmes, how curious I became as to what the
meaning of this extraordinary performance could possibly be. They were always
very careful, I observed, to turn my face away from the window, so that I
became consumed with the desire to see what was going on behind my back. At
first it seemed to be impossible, but I soon devised a means. My hand-mirror
had been broken, so a happy thought seized me, and I concealed a piece of the
glass in my handkerchief. On the next occasion, in the midst of my laughter, I
put my handkerchief up to my eyes, and was able with a little management to see
all that there was behind me. I confess that I was disappointed. There was
nothing. At least that was my first impression. At the second glance, however,
I perceived that there was a man standing in the Southampton Road, a small
bearded man in a gray suit, who seemed to be looking in my direction. The road
is an important highway, and there are usually people there. This man, however,
was leaning against the railings which bordered our field and was looking
earnestly up. I lowered my handkerchief and glanced at Mrs. Rucastle to find
her eyes fixed upon me with a most searching gaze. She said nothing, but I am
convinced that she had divined that I had a mirror in my hand and had seen what
was behind me. She rose at once.

"'Jephro,' said she, 'there is an impertinent fellow upon the road there who
stares up at Miss Hunter.'

"'No friend of yours, Miss Hunter?' he asked.

"'No, I know no one in these parts.'

"'Dear me! How very impertinent! Kindly turn round and motion to him to go
away.'

"'Surely it would be better to take no notice.'

"'No, no, we should have him loitering here always. Kindly turn round and wave
him away like that.'

"I did as I was told, and at the same instant Mrs. Rucastle drew down the
blind. That was a week ago, and from that time I have not sat again in the
window, nor have I worn the blue dress, nor seen the man in the road."

"Pray continue," said Holmes. "Your narrative promises to be a most interesting
one."

"You will find it rather disconnected, I fear, and there may prove to be little
relation between the different incidents of which I speak. On the very first
day that I was at the Copper Beeches, Mr. Rucastle took me to a small outhouse
which stands near the kitchen door. As we approached it I heard the sharp
rattling of a chain, and the sound as of a large animal moving about.

"'Look in here!' said Mr. Rucastle, showing me a slit between two planks. 'Is
he not a beauty?'

"I looked through and was conscious of two glowing eyes, and of a vague figure
huddled up in the darkness.

"'Don't be frightened,' said my employer, laughing at the start which I had
given. 'It's only Carlo, my mastiff. I call him mine, but really old Toller, my
groom, is the only man who can do anything with him. We feed him once a day,
and not too much then, so that he is always as keen as mustard. Toller lets him
loose every night, and God help the trespasser whom he lays his fangs upon. For
goodness' sake don't you ever on any pretext set your foot over the threshold
at night, for it's as much as your life is worth.'

"The warning was no idle one, for two nights later I happened to look out of my
bedroom window about two o'clock in the morning. It was a beautiful moonlight
night, and the lawn in front of the house was silvered over and almost as
bright as day. I was standing, rapt in the peaceful beauty of the scene, when I
was aware that something was moving under the shadow of the copper beeches. As
it emerged into the moonshine I saw what it was. It was a giant dog, as large
as a calf, tawny tinted, with hanging jowl, black muzzle, and huge projecting
bones. It walked slowly across the lawn and vanished into the shadow upon the
other side. That dreadful sentinel sent a chill to my heart which I do not
think that any burglar could have done.

"And now I have a very strange experience to tell you. I had, as you know, cut
off my hair in London, and I had placed it in a great coil at the bottom of my
trunk. One evening, after the child was in bed, I began to amuse myself by
examining the furniture of my room and by rearranging my own little things.
There was an old chest of drawers in the room, the two upper ones empty and
open, the lower one locked. I had filled the first two with my linen. and as I
had still much to pack away I was naturally annoyed at not having the use of
the third drawer. It struck me that it might have been fastened by a mere
oversight, so I took out my bunch of keys and tried to open it. The very first
key fitted to perfection, and I drew the drawer open. There was only one thing
in it, but I am sure that you would never guess what it was. It was my coil of
hair.

"I took it up and examined it. It was of the same peculiar tint, and the same
thickness. But then the impossibility of the thing obtruded itself upon me. How
could my hair have been locked in the drawer? With trembling hands I undid my
trunk, turned out the contents, and drew from the bonom my own hair. I laid the
two tresses together, and I assure you that they were identical. Was it not
extraordinary? Puzzle as I would, I could make nothing at all of what it meant.
I returned the strange hair to the drawer, and I said nothing of the matter to
the Rucastles as I felt that I had put myself in the wrong by opening a drawer
which they had locked.

"I am naturally observant, as you may have remarked, Mr. Holmes, and I soon had
a pretty good plan of the whole house in my head. There was one wing, however,
which appeared not to be inhabited at all. A door which faced that which led
into the quarters of the Tollers opened into this suite, but it was invariably
locked. One day, however, as I ascended the stair, I met Mr. Rucastle coming
out through this door, his keys in his hand, and a look on his face which made
him a very different person to the round, jovial man to whom I was accustomed.
His cheeks were red, his brow was all crinkled with anger, and the veins stood
out at his temples with passion. He locked the door and hurried past me without
a word or a look.

"This aroused my curiosity, so when I went out for a walk in the grounds with
my charge, I strolled round to the side from which I could see the windows of
this part of the house. There were four of them in a row, three of which were
simply dirty, while the fourth was shuttered up. They were evidently all
deserted. As I strolled up and down, glancing at them occasionally, Mr.
Rucastle came out to me, looking as merry and jovial as ever.

"'Ah!' said he, 'you must not think me rude if I passed you without a word, my
dear young lady. I was preoccupied with business matters.'

"I assured him that I was not offended. 'By the way,' said I, 'you seem to have
quite a suite of spare rooms up there, and one of them has the shutters up.'

"He looked surprised and, as it seemed to me, a little startled at my remark.

"'Photography is one of my hobbies,' said he. 'I have made my dark room up
there. But, dear me! what an observant young lady we have come upon. Who would
have believed it? Who would have ever believed it?' He spoke in a jesting tone,
but there was no jest in his eyes as he looked at me. I read suspicion there
and annoyance, but no jest.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, from the moment that I understood that there was something
about that suite of rooms which I was not to know, I was all on fire to go over
them. It was not mere curiosity, though I have my share of that. It was more a
feeling of duty--a feeling that some good might come from my penetrating to
this place. They talk of woman's instinct; perhaps it was woman's instinct
which gave me that feeling. At any rate, it was there, and I was keenly on the
lookout for any chance to pass the forbidden door.

"It was only yesterday that the chance came. I may tell you that, besides Mr.
Rucastle, both Toller and his wife find something to do in these deserted
rooms, and I once saw him carrying a large black linen bag with him through the
door. Recently he has been drinking hard, and yesterday evening he was very
drunk; and when I came upstairs there was the key in the door. I have no doubt
at all that he had left it there. Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle were both downstairs,
and the child was with them, so that I had an admirable opportunity. I turned
the key gently in the lock, opened the door, and slipped through.

"There was a little passage in front of me, unpapered and uncarpeted, which
turned at a right angle at the farther end. Round this corner were three doors
in a line, the first and third of which were open. They each led into an empty
room, dusty and cheerless, with two windows in the one and one in the other, so
thick with dirt that the evening light glimmered dimly through them. The centre
door was closed, and across the outside of it had been fastened one of the
broad bars of an iron bed, padlocked at one end to a ring in the wall, and
fastened at the other with stout cord. The door itself was locked as well, and
the key was not there. This barricaded door corresponded clearly with the
shuttered window outside, and yet I could see by the glimmer from beneath it
that the room was not in darkness. Evidently there was a skylight which let in
light from above. As I stood in the passage gazing at the sinister door and
wondering what secret it might veil, I suddenly heard the sound of steps within
the room and saw a shadow pass backward and forward against the little slit of
dim light which shone out from under the door. A mad, unreasoning terror rose
up in me at the sight, Mr. Holmes. My overstrung nerves failed me suddenly, and
I turned and ran--ran as though some dreadful hand were behind me clutching at
the skirt of my dress. I rushed down the passage, through the door, and
straight into the arms of Mr. Rucastle, who was waiting outside.

"'So,' said he, smiling, 'it was you, then. I thought that it must be when I
saw the door open.'

"'Oh, I am so frightened!' I panted.

"'My dear young lady! my dear young lady!'--you cannot think how caressing and
soothing his manner was--'and what has frightened you, my dear young lady?'

"But his voice was just a little too coaxing. He overdid it. I was keenly on my
guard against him.

"'I was foolish enough to go into the empty wing,' I answered. 'But it is so
lonely and eerie in this dim light that I was frightened and ran out again. Oh,
it is so dreadfully still in there!'

"'Only that?' said he, looking at me keenly.

"'Why, what did you think?' I asked.

"'Why do you think that I lock this door?'

"'I am sure that I do not know.'

"'It is to keep people out who have no business there. Do you see?' He was
still smiling in the most amiable manner.

"'I am sure if I had known--'

"'Well, then, you know now. And if you ever put your foot over that threshold
again'--here in an instant the smile hardened into a grin of rage, and he
glared down at me with the face of a demon--'I'll throw you to the mastiff.'

"I was so terrified that I do not know what I did. I suppose that I must have
rushed past him into my room. I remember nothing until I found myself lying on
my bed trembling all over. Then I thought of you, Mr. Holmes. I could not live
there longer without some advice. I was frightened of the house, of the man of
the woman, of the servants, even of the child. They were all horrible to me. If
I could only bring you down all would be well. Of course I might have fled from
the house, but my curiosity was almost as strong as my fears. My mind was soon
made up. I would send you a wire. I put on my hat and cloak, went down to the
office, which is about half a mile from the house, and then returned, feeling
very much easier. A horrible doubt came into my mind as I approached the door
lest the dog might be loose, but I remembered that Toller had drunk himself
into a state of insensibility that evening, and I knew that he was the only one
in the household who had any influence with the savage creature, or who would
venture to set him free. I slipped in in safety and lay awake half the night in
my joy at the thought of seeing you. I had no difficulty in getting leave to
come into Winchester this morning, but I must be back before three o'clock, for
Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle are going on a visit, and will be away all the evening,
so that I must look after the child. Now I have told you all my adventures, Mr.
Holmes, and I should be very glad if you could tell me what it all means, and,
above all, what I should do."

Holmes and I had listened spellbound to this extraordinary story. My friend
rose now and paced up and down the room, his hands in his pockets, and an
expression of the most profound gravity upon his face.

"Is Toller still drunk?" he asked.

"Yes. I heard his wife tell Mrs. Rucastle that she could do nothing with him."

"That is well. And the Rucastles go out to-night?"

"Yes."

"Is there a cellar with a good strong lock?"

"Yes, the wine-cellar."

"You seem to me to have acted all through this matter like a very brave and
sensible girl, Miss Hunter. Do you think that you could perform one more feat?
I should not ask it of you if I did not think you a quite exceptional woman."

"I will try. What is it?"

"We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o'clock, my friend and I. The
Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be incapable.
There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm. If you could send her
into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her, you would
facilitate matters immensely."

"I will do it."

"Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of course there is
only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there to personate
someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber. That is obvious. As
to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter, Miss Alice
Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America. You were
chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the color of your
hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through which she
has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a curious
chance you came upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly some
friend of hers--possibly her fiance--and no doubt, as you wore the girl's dress
and were so like her, he was convinced from your laughter, whenever he saw you,
and afterwards from your gesture, that Miss Rucastle was perfectly happy, and
that she no longer desired his attentions. The dog is let loose at night to
prevent him from endeavoring to communicate with her. So much is fairly clear.
The most serious point in the case is the disposition of the child."

"What on earth has that to do with it?" I ejaculated.

"My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as to the
tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don't you see that the
converse is equally valid. I have frequently gained my first real insight into
the character of parents by studying their children. This child's disposition
is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty's sake, and whether he derives this
from his smiling father, as I should suspect, or from his mother, it bodes evil
for the poor girl who is in their power."

"I am sure that you are right, Mr. Holmes," cried our client. "A thousand
things come back to me which make me certain that you have hit it. Oh, let us
lose not an instant in bringing help to this poor creature."

"We must be circumspect, for we are dealing with a very cunning man. We can do
nothing until seven o'clock. At that hour we shall be with you, and it will not
be long before we solve the mystery."

We were as good as our word, for it was just seven when we reached the Copper
Beeches, having put up our trap at a wayside public-house. The group of trees,
with their dark leaves shining like burnished metal in the light of the setting
sun, were sufficient to mark the house even had Miss Hunter not been standing
smiling on the door-step.

"Have you managed it?" asked Holmes.

A loud thudding noise came from somewhere downstairs. "That is Mrs. Toller in
the cellar," said she. "Her husband lies snoring on the kitchen rug. Here are
his keys, which are the duplicates of Mr. Rucastle's."

"You have done well indeed!" cried Holmes with enthusiasm. "Now lead the way,
and we shall soon see the end of this black business."

We passed up the stair, unlocked the door, followed on down a passage, and
found ourselves in front of the barricade which Miss Hunter had described.
Holmes cut the cord and removed the transverse bar. Then he tried the various
keys in the lock, but without success. No sound came from within, and at the
silence Holmes's face clouded over.

"I trust that we are not too late," said he. "I think, Miss Hunter, that we had
better go in without you. Now, Watson, put your shoulder to it, and we shall
see whether we cannot make our way in."

It was an old rickety door and gave at once before our united strength.
Together we rushed into the room. It was empty. There was no furniture save a
little pallet bed, a small table, and a basketful of linen. The skylight above
was open, and the prisoner gone.

"There has been some villainy here," said Holmes; "this beauty has guessed Miss
Hunter's intentions and has carried his victim off."

"But how?"

"Through the skylight. We shall soon see how he managed it." He swung himself
up onto the roof. "Ah, yes," he cried, "here's the end of a long light ladder
against the eaves. That is how he did it."

"But it is impossible," said Miss Hunter; "the ladder was not there when the
Rucastles went away."

"He has come back and done it. I tell you that he is a clever and dangerous
man. I should not be very much surprised if this were he whose step I hear now
upon the stair. I think, Watson, that it would be as well for you to have your
pistol ready."

The words were hardly out of his mouth before a man appeared at the door of the
room, a very fat and burly man, with a heavy stick in his hand. Miss Hunter
screamed and shrunk against the wall at the sight of him, but Sherlock Holmes
sprang forward and confronted him.

"You villain!" said he, "where's your daughter?"

The fat man cast his eyes round, and then up at the open skylight.

"It is for me to ask you that," he shrieked, "you thieves! Spies and thieves! I
have caught you, have I? You are in my power. I'll serve you!" He turned and
clattered down the stairs as hard as he could go.

"He's gone for the dog!" cried Miss Hunter.

"I have my revolver," said I.

"Better close the front door," cried Holmes, and we all rushed down the stairs
together. We had hardly reached the hall when we heard the baying of a hound,
and then a scream of agony, with a horrible worrying sound which it was
dreadful to listen to. An elderly man with a red face and shaking limbs came
staggering out at a side door.

"My God!" he cried. "Someone has loosed the dog. It's not been fed for two
days. Quick, quick, or it'll be too late!"

Holmes and I rushed out and round the angle of the house, with Toller hurrying
behind us. There was the huge famished brute, its black muzzle buried in
Rucastle's throat, while he writhed and screamed upon the ground. Running up, I
blew its brains out, and it fell over with its keen white teeth still meeting
in the great creases of his neck. With much labour we separated them and
carried him, living but horribly mangled, into the house. We laid him upon the
drawing-room sofa, and having dispatched the sobered Toller to bear the news to
his wife, I did what I could to relieve his pain. We were all assembled round
him when the door opened, and a tall, gaunt woman entered the room.

"Mrs. Toller!" cried Miss Hunter.

"Yes, miss. Mr. Rucastle let me out when he came back before he went up to you.
Ah, miss, it is a pity you didn't let me know what you were planning, for I
would have told you that your pains were wasted."

"Ha!" said Holmes, looking keenly at her. "It is clear that Mrs. Toller knows
more about this matter than anyone else."

"Yes, sir, I do, and I am ready enough to tell what I know."

"Then, pray, sit down, and let us hear it for there are several points on which
I must confess that I am still in the dark."

"I will soon make it clear to you," said she; "and I'd have done so before now
if I could ha' got out from the cellar. If there's police-court business over
this, you'll remember that I was the one that stood your friend, and that I was
Miss Alice's friend too.

"She was never happy at home, Miss Alice wasn't, from the time that her father
married again. She was slighted like and had no say in anything, but it never
really became bad for her until after she met Mr. Fowler at a friend's house.
As well as I could learn, Miss Alice had rights of her own by will, but she was
so quiet and patient, she was, that she never said a word about them but just
left everything in Mr. Rucastle's hands. He knew he was safe with her; but when
there was a chance of a husband coming forward, who would ask for all that the
law would give him, then her father thought it time to put a stop on it. He
wanted her to sign a paper, so that whether she married or not, he could use
her money. When she wouldn't do it, he kept on worrying her until she got
brain-fever, and for six weeks was at death's door. Then she got better at
last, all worn to a shadow, and with her beautiful hair cut off; but that
didn't make no change in her young man, and he stuck to her as true as man
could be."

"Ah," said Holmes, "I think that what you have been good enough to tell us
makes the matter fairly clear, and that I can deduce all that remains. Mr.
Rucastle then, I presume, took to this system of imprisonment?"

"Yes, sir."

"And brought Miss Hunter down from London in order to get rid of the
disagreeable persistence of Mr. Fowler."

"That was it, sir."

"But Mr. Fowler being a persevering man, as a good seaman should be, blockaded
the house, and having met you succeeded by certain arguments, metallic or
otherwise, in convincing you that your interests were the same as his."

"Mr. Fowler was a very kind-spoken, free-handed gentleman," said Mrs. Toller
serenely.

"And in this way he managed that your good man should have no want of drink,
and that a ladder should be ready at the moment when your master had gone out."

"You have it, sir, just as it happened."

"I am sure we owe you an apology, Mrs. Toller," said Holmes, "for you have
certainly cleared up everything which puzzled us. And here comes the country
surgeon and Mrs. Rucastle, so I think. Watson, that we had best escort Miss
Hunter back to Winchester, as it seems to me that our locus standi now is
rather a questionable one."

And thus was solved the mystery of the sinister house with the copper beeches
in front of the door. Mr. Rucastle survived, but was always a broken man, kept
alive solely through the care of his devoted wife. They still live with their
old servants, who probably know so much of Rucastle's past life that he finds
it difficult to part from them. Mr. Fowler and Miss Rucastle were married, by
special license, in Southampton the day after their flight, and he is now the
holder of a government appointment in the island of Mauritius. As to Miss
Violet Hunter, my friend Holmes, rather to my disappointment, manifested no
further interest in her when once she had ceased to be the centre of one of his
problems, and she is now the head of a private school at Walsall, where I
believe that she has met with considerable success.