"That settles it. We are bound to see what it means
before he comes."
He opened the door and we stepped into the hall. The
droning sound swelled louder upon our ears until it
became one long, deep wail of distress. It came from
upstairs. Holmes darted up and I followed him. He
pushed open a half-closed door and we both stood
appalled at the sight before us.
A woman, young and beautiful, was lying dead upon the
bed. Her calm, pale face, with dim, wide-opened blue
eyes, looked upwards from amid a great tangle of
golden hair. At the foot of the bed, half sitting,
half kneeling, his face buried in the clothes,
was a young man, whose frame was racked by his sobs.
So absorbed was he by his bitter grief that he never
looked up until Holmes's hand was on his shoulder.
"Are you Mr. Godfrey Staunton?"
"Yes, yes; I am -- but you are too late. She is dead."
The man was so dazed that he could not be made to
understand that we were anything but doctors who had
been sent to his assistance. Holmes was endeavouring
to utter a few words of consolation, and to explain
the alarm which had been caused to his friends by his
sudden disappearance, when there was a step upon the
stairs, and there was the heavy, stern, questioning
face of Dr. Armstrong at the door.
"So, gentlemen," said he, "you have attained your end,
and have certainly chosen a particularly delicate
moment for your intrusion. I would not brawl in the
presence of death, but I can assure you that if I were
a younger man your monstrous conduct would not pass
with impunity."
"Excuse me, Dr. Armstrong, I think we are a little at
cross-purposes," said my friend, with dignity. "If
you could step downstairs with us we may each be able
to give some light to the other upon this miserable
affair."
A minute later the grim doctor and ourselves were in
the sitting-room below.
"Well, sir?" said he.
"I wish you to understand, in the first place, that I
am not employed by Lord Mount-James, and that my
sympathies in this matter are entirely against that
nobleman. When a man is lost it is my duty to
ascertain his fate, but having done so the matter ends
so far as I am concerned; and so long as there is
nothing criminal, I am much more anxious to hush up
private scandals than to give them publicity. If, as
I imagine, there is no breach of the law in this
matter, you can absolutely depend upon my discretion
and my co-operation in keeping the facts out of the
papers."
Dr. Armstrong took a quick step forward and wrung
Holmes by the hand.
"You are a good fellow," said he. "I had misjudged
you. I thank Heaven that my compunction at leaving
poor Staunton all alone in this plight caused me to
turn my carriage back, and so to make your
acquaintance. Knowing as much as you do, the
situation is very easily explained. A year ago
Godfrey Staunton lodged in London for a time, and
became passionately attached to his landlady's
daughter, whom he married. She was as good as she was
beautiful, and as intelligent as she was good. No man
need be ashamed of such a wife. But Godfrey was the
heir to this crabbed old nobleman, and it was quite
certain that the news of his marriage would have been
the end of his inheritance. I knew the lad well, and
I loved him for his many excellent qualities. I did
all I could to help him to keep things straight. We
did our very best to keep the thing from everyone, for
when once such a whisper gets about it is not long
before everyone has heard it. Thanks to this lonely
cottage and his own discretion, Godfrey has up to now
succeeded. Their secret was known to no one save to
me and to one excellent servant who has at present
gone for assistance to Trumpington. But at last there
came a terrible blow in the shape of dangerous illness
to his wife. It was consumption of the most virulent
kind. The poor boy was half crazed with grief, and
yet he had to go to London to play this match, for he
could not get out of it without explanations which
would expose his secret. I tried to cheer him up by a
wire, and he sent me one in reply imploring me to do
all I could. This was the telegram which you appear
in some inexplicable way to have seen. I did not tell
him how urgent the danger was, for I knew that he
could do no good here, but I sent the truth to the
girl's father, and he very injudiciously communicated
it to Godfrey. The result was that he came straight
away in a state bordering on frenzy, and has remained
in the same state, kneeling at the end of her bed,
until this morning death put an end to her sufferings.
That is all, Mr. Holmes, and I am sure that I can rely
upon your discretion and that of your friend."
Holmes grasped the doctor's hand.
"Come, Watson," said he, and we passed from that house
of grief into the pale sunlight of the winter day.
{----------------------------------------------------}
{---------------- End of Text -----------------------}
{----------------------------------------------------}
{-------------- Textual Notes -----------------------}
{1} {"'Varsity": the single-quote is backwards}
{2} {"_detour_": the e has a forward (/) accent}
{------------- End Textual Notes --------------------}
{----------------------------------------------------}
{ABBE, Rev 4, 1/17/96 rms, 4th proofing}
{Source: The Strand Magazine, 28 (Sept. 1904)}
{Etext prepared by Roger Squires
[email protected]}
{Braces ({}) in the text indicate textual end-notes}
{Underscores (_) in the text indicate italics}
XII. -- The Adventure of the Abbey Grange.
It was on a bitterly cold and frosty morning during the winter of
'97 that I was awakened by a tugging at my shoulder. It was
Holmes. The candle in his hand shone upon his eager, stooping
face and told me at a glance that something was amiss.
"Come, Watson, come!" he cried. "The game is afoot. Not a word!
Into your clothes and come!"
Ten minutes later we were both in a cab and rattling through the
silent streets on our way to Charing Cross Station. The first
faint winter's dawn was beginning to appear, and we could dimly
see the occasional figure of an early workman as he passed us,
blurred and indistinct in the opalescent London reek. Holmes
nestled in silence into his heavy coat, and I was glad to do the
same, for the air was most bitter and neither of us had broken our
fast. It was not until we had consumed some hot tea at the
station, and taken our places in the Kentish train, that we were
sufficiently thawed, he to speak and I to listen. Holmes drew
a
note from his pocket and read it aloud:--
"Abbey Grange, Marsham, Kent,
"3.30 a.m.
"MY DEAR MR. HOLMES, -- I should be very glad of your immediate
assistance in what promises to be a most remarkable case. It is
something quite in your line. Except for releasing the lady I
will see that everything is kept exactly as I have found it, but I
beg you not to lose an instant, as it is difficult to leave Sir
Eustace there.
"Yours faithfully, STANLEY HOPKINS."
"Hopkins has called me in seven times, and on each occasion his
summons has been entirely justified," said Holmes. "I fancy that
every one of his cases has found its way into your collection, and
I must admit, Watson, that you have some power of selection which
atones for much which I deplore in your narratives. Your fatal
habit of looking at everything from the point of view of a story
instead of as a scientific exercise has ruined what might have
been an instructive and even classical series of demonstrations.
You slur over work of the utmost finesse and delicacy in order to
dwell upon sensational details which may excite, but cannot
possibly instruct, the reader."
"Why do you not write them yourself?" I said, with some bitterness.
"I will, my dear Watson, I will. At present I am, as you know,
fairly busy, but I propose to devote my declining years to the
composition of a text-book which shall focus the whole art of
detection into one volume. Our present research appears to be a
case of murder."
"You think this Sir Eustace is dead, then?"
"I should say so. Hopkins's writing shows considerable agitation,
and he is not an emotional man. Yes, I gather there has been
violence, and that the body is left for our inspection. A mere
suicide would not have caused him to send for me. As to the
release of the lady, it would appear that she has been locked in
her room during the tragedy. We are moving in high life, Watson;
crackling paper, 'E.B.' monogram, coat-of-arms, picturesque
address. I think that friend Hopkins will live up to his
reputation and that we shall have an interesting morning.
The crime was committed before twelve last night."
"How can you possibly tell?"
"By an inspection of the trains and by reckoning the time. The
local police had to be called in, they had to communicate with
Scotland Yard, Hopkins had to go out, and he in turn had to send
for me. All that makes a fair night's work. Well, here we are at
Chislehurst Station, and we shall soon set our doubts at rest."
A drive of a couple of miles through narrow country lanes brought
us to a park gate, which was opened for us by an old lodge-keeper,
whose haggard face bore the reflection of some great disaster.
The avenue ran through a noble park, between lines of ancient
elms, and ended in a low, widespread house, pillared in front
after the fashion of Palladio. The central part was evidently of
a great age and shrouded in ivy, but the large windows showed that
modern changes had been carried out, and one wing of the house
appeared to be entirely new. The youthful figure and alert,
eager face of Inspector Stanley Hopkins confronted us in the open
doorway.
"I'm very glad you have come, Mr. Holmes. And you too,
Dr. Watson! But, indeed, if I had my time over again I should not
have troubled you, for since the lady has come to herself she has
given so clear an account of the affair that there is not much
left for us to do. You remember that Lewisham gang of burglars?"
"What, the three Randalls?"
"Exactly; the father and two sons. It's their work. I have not a
doubt of it. They did a job at Sydenham a fortnight ago, and were
seen and described. Rather cool to do another so soon and so
near, but it is they, beyond all doubt. It's a hanging matter
this time."
"Sir Eustace is dead, then?"
"Yes; his head was knocked in with his own poker."
"Sir Eustace Brackenstall, the driver tells me."
"Exactly -- one of the richest men in Kent. Lady Brackenstall
is in the morning-room. Poor lady, she has had a most dreadful
experience. She seemed half dead when I saw her first.
I think you had best see her and hear her account of the facts.
Then we will examine the dining-room together."
Lady Brackenstall was no ordinary person. Seldom have I seen so
graceful a figure, so womanly a presence, and so beautiful a face.
She was a blonde, golden-haired, blue-eyed, and would, no doubt,
have had the perfect complexion which goes with such colouring had
not her recent experience left her drawn and haggard. Her
sufferings were physical as well as mental, for over one eye rose
a hideous, plum-coloured swelling, which her maid, a tall, austere
woman, was bathing assiduously with vinegar and water. The lady
lay back exhausted upon a couch, but her quick, observant gaze as
we entered the room, and the alert expression of her beautiful
features, showed that neither her wits nor her courage had been
shaken by her terrible experience. She was enveloped in a loose
dressing-gown of blue and silver, but a black sequin-covered
dinner-dress was hung upon the couch beside her.
"I have told you all that happened, Mr. Hopkins," she said,
wearily; "could you not repeat it for me? Well, if you think it
necessary, I will tell these gentlemen what occurred. Have they
been in the dining-room yet?"
"I thought they had better hear your ladyship's story first."
"I shall be glad when you can arrange matters. It is horrible to
me to think of him still lying there." She shuddered and buried
her face in her hands. As she did so the loose gown fell back
from her forearms. Holmes uttered an exclamation.
"You have other injuries, madam! What is this?" Two vivid red
spots stood out on one of the white, round limbs. She hastily
covered it.
"It is nothing. It has no connection with the hideous business of
last night. If you and your friend will sit down I will tell you
all I can.
"I am the wife of Sir Eustace Brackenstall. I have been married
about a year. I suppose that it is no use my attempting to
conceal that our marriage has not been a happy one. I fear that
all our neighbours would tell you that, even if I were to attempt
to deny it. Perhaps the fault may be partly mine. I was brought
up in the freer, less conventional atmosphere of South Australia,
and this English life, with its proprieties and its primness, is
not congenial to me. But the main reason lies in the one fact
which is notorious to everyone, and that is that Sir Eustace was
a confirmed drunkard. To be with such a man for an hour is
unpleasant. Can you imagine what it means for a sensitive and
high-spirited woman to be tied to him for day and night?
It is a
sacrilege, a crime, a villainy to hold that such a marriage is
binding. I say that these monstrous laws of yours will bring a
curse upon the land -- Heaven will not let such wickedness
endure." For an instant she sat up, her cheeks flushed, and her
eyes blazing from under the terrible mark upon her brow. Then the
strong, soothing hand of the austere maid drew her head down on to
the cushion, and the wild anger died away into passionate sobbing.
At last she continued:--
"I will tell you about last night. You are aware, perhaps, that
in this house all servants sleep in the modern wing. This central
block is made up of the dwelling-rooms, with the kitchen behind
and our bedroom above. My maid Theresa sleeps above my room.
There is no one else, and no sound could alarm those who are in
the farther wing. This must have been well known to the robbers,
or they would not have acted as they did.
"Sir Eustace retired about half-past ten. The servants had
already gone to their quarters. Only my maid was up, and she had
remained in her room at the top of the house until I needed her
services. I sat until after eleven in this room, absorbed in a
book. Then I walked round to see that all was right before I went
upstairs. It was my custom to do this myself, for, as I have
explained, Sir Eustace was not always to be trusted. I went into
the kitchen, the butler's pantry, the gun-room, the billiard-room,
the drawing-room, and finally the dining-room. As I approached
the window, which is covered with thick curtains, I suddenly
felt the wind blow upon my face and realized that it was open.
I flung the curtain aside and found myself face to face with a
broad-shouldered, elderly man who had just stepped into the room.
The window is a long French one, which really forms a door leading
to the lawn. I held my bedroom candle lit in my hand, and, by its
light, behind the first man I saw two others, who were in the act
of entering. I stepped back, but the fellow was on me in an
instant. He caught me first by the wrist and then by the throat.
I opened my mouth to scream, but he struck me a savage blow with
his fist over the eye, and felled me to the ground. I must have
been unconscious for a few minutes, for when I came to myself I
found that they had torn down the bell-rope and had secured me
tightly to the oaken chair which stands at the head of the
dining-room table. I was so firmly bound that I could not move,
and a handkerchief round my mouth prevented me from uttering any
sound. It was at this instant that my unfortunate husband entered
the room. He had evidently heard some suspicious sounds, and he
came prepared for such a scene as he found. He was dressed in his
shirt and trousers, with his favourite blackthorn cudgel in his
hand. He rushed at one of the burglars, but another -- it was the
elderly man -- stooped, picked the poker out of the grate, and
struck him a horrible blow as he passed. He fell without a groan,
and never moved again. I fainted once more, but again it could
only have been a very few minutes during which I was insensible.
When I opened my eyes I found that they had collected the silver
from the sideboard, and they had drawn a bottle of wine which
stood there. Each of them had a glass in his hand. I have
already told you, have I not, that one was elderly, with a beard,
and the others young, hairless lads. They might have been a
father with his two sons. They talked together in whispers.
Then they came over and made sure that I was still securely bound.
Finally they withdrew, closing the window after them. It was
quite a quarter of an hour before I got my mouth free. When I did
so my screams brought the maid to my assistance. The other
servants were soon alarmed, and we sent for the local police, who
instantly communicated with London. That is really all I can tell
you, gentlemen, and I trust that it will not be necessary for me
to go over so painful a story again."