"There was a paragraph amplifying this in one of the society
papers of the same week. Ah, here it is: 'There will soon be a
call for protection in the marriage market, for the present
free-trade principle appears to tell heavily against our home
product. One by one the management of the noble houses of Great
Britain is passing into the hands of our fair cousins from across
the Atlantic. An important addition has been made during the last
week to the list of the prizes which have been borne away by
these charming invaders. Lord St. Simon, who has shown himself
for over twenty years proof against the little god's arrows, has
now definitely announced his approaching marriage with Miss Hatty
Doran, the fascinating daughter of a California millionaire. Miss
Doran, whose graceful figure and striking face attracted much
attention at the Westbury House festivities, is an only child,
and it is currently reported that her dowry will run to
considerably over the six figures, with expectancies for the
future. As it is an open secret that the Duke of Balmoral has
been compelled to sell his pictures within the last few years,
and as Lord St. Simon has no property of his own save the small
estate of Birchmoor, it is obvious that the Californian heiress
is not the only gainer by an alliance which will enable her to
make the easy and common transition from a Republican lady to a
British peeress.'"
"Anything else?" asked Holmes, yawning.
"Oh, yes; plenty. Then there is another note in the Morning Post
to say that the marriage would be an absolutely quiet one, that it
would be at St. George's, Hanover Square, that only half a dozen
intimate friends would be invited, and that the party would
return to the furnished house at Lancaster Gate which has been
taken by Mr. Aloysius Doran. Two days later--that is, on
Wednesday last--there is a curt announcement that the wedding had
taken place, and that the honeymoon would be passed at Lord
Backwater's place, near Petersfield. Those are all the notices
which appeared before the disappearance of the bride."
"Before the what?" asked Holmes with a start.
"The vanishing of the lady."
"When did she vanish, then?"
"At the wedding breakfast."
"Indeed. This is more interesting than it promised to be; quite
dramatic, in fact."
"Yes; it struck me as being a little out of the common."
"They often vanish before the ceremony, and occasionally during
the honeymoon; but I cannot call to mind anything quite so prompt
as this. Pray let me have the details."
"I warn you that they are very incomplete."
"Perhaps we may make them less so."
"Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a
morning paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is
headed, 'Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding':
"'The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the
greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which
have taken place in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as
shortly announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the
previous morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to
confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently
floating about. In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush
the matter up, so much public attention has now been drawn to it
that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what
is a common subject for conversation.
"'The ceremony, which was performed at St. George's, Hanover
Square, was a very quiet one, no one being present save the
father of the bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral,
Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace, and Lady Clara St. Simon (the
younger brother and sister of the bridegroom), and Lady Alicia
Whittington. The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of
Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been
prepared. It appears that some little trouble was caused by a
woman, whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavored to
force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging
that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only after a
painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler
and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately entered the house
before this unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast
with the rest, when she complained of a sudden indisposition and
retired to her room. Her prolonged absence having caused some
comment, her father followed her, but learned from her maid that
she had only come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an
ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One of the
footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus
apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his mistress,
believing her to be with the company. On ascertaining that his
daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, in conjunction with
the bridegroom, instantly put themselves in communication with
the police, and very energetic inquiries are being made, which
will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very
singular business. Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing
had transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There
are rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the
police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the
original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or some
other motive, she may have been concerned in the strange
disappearance of the bride.'"
"And is that all?"
"Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is
a suggestive one."
"And it is--"
"That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance,
has actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a
danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom
for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole
case is in your hands now--so far as it has been set forth in the
public press."
"And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would
not have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell,
Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I
have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not
dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness,
if only as a check to my own memory."
"Lord Robert St. Simon," announced our page-boy, throwing open
the door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face,
high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about
the mouth, and with the steady, well-opened eye of a man whose
pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be obeyed. His
manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance gave an undue
impression of age, for he had a slight forward stoop and a little
bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too, as he swept off
his very curly-brimmed ha
t, was grizzled round the edges and thin
upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to the verge of
foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white waistcoat,
yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-colored gaiters.
He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from left to
right, and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his
golden eyeglasses.
"Good-day, Lord St. Simon," said Holmes, rising and bowing. "Pray
take the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr.
Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this
matter over."
"A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine,
Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you
have already managed several delicate cases of this sort sir,
though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of
society."
"No, I am descending."
"I beg pardon."
"My last client of the sort was a king."
"Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?"
"The King of Scandinavia."
"What! Had he lost his wife?"
"You can understand," said Holmes suavely, "that I extend to the
affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to
you in yours."
"Of course! Very right! very right! I'm sure I beg pardon. As to
my own case, I am ready to give you any information which may
assist you in forming an opinion."
"Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public
prints, nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct--
this article, for example, as to the disappearance of the bride."
Lord St. Simon glanced over it. "Yes, it is correct, as far as it
goes."
"But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could
offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most
directly by questioning you."
"Pray do so."
"When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?"
"In San Francisco, a year ago."
"You were travelling in the States?"
"Yes."
"Did you become engaged then?"
"No."
"But you were on a friendly footing?"
"I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was
amused."
"Her father is very rich?"
"He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope."
"And how did he make his money?"
"In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold,
invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds."
"Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady's--your
wife's character?"
The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down
into the fire. "You see, Mr. Holmes," said he, "my wife was
twenty before her father became a rich man. During that time she
ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or
mountains, so that her education has come from Nature rather than
from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in England a tomboy,
with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any sort of
traditions. She is impetuous--volcanic, I was about to say. She
is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her
resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given her the
name which I have the honor to bear"--he gave a little stately
cough--"had not I thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I
believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that
anything dishonorable would be repugnant to her."
"Have you her photograph?"
"I brought this with me." He opened a locket and showed us the
full face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an
ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect
of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the
exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he
closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon.
"The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your
acquaintance?"
"Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I
met her several times, became engaged to her, and have now
married her."
"She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?"
"A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family."
"And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a
fait accompli?"
"I really have made no inquiries on the subject."
"Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the
wedding?"
"Yes."
"Was she in good spirits?"
"Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our
future lives."
"Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the
wedding?"
"She was as bright as possible--at least until after the
ceremony."
"And did you observe any change in her then?"
"Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had
ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident
however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible
bearing upon the case."
"Pray let us have it, for all that."
"Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went towards
the vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time, and it
fell over into the pew. There was a moment's delay, but the
gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again, and it did not
appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of
the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in the carriage, on our
way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause."
"Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of
the general public were present, then?"
"Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is
open."
"This gentleman was not one of your wife's friends?"
"No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite a
common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But
really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point."
"Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less
cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do
on re-entering her father's house?"
"I saw her in conversation with her maid."
"And who is her maid?"
"Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California
with her."
"A confidential servant?"
"A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress allowed
her to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America they
look upon these things in a different way."
"How long did she speak to this Alice?"
"Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of."
"You did not overhear what they said?"
"Lady St. Simon said something about 'jumping a claim.' She was
accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she
meant."
"American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your
wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?"
"She walked into the breakfast-room."
"On your arm?"
"No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that.
Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose
hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left the room. She
never came back."
"But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to
her room, covered her bride's dress with a long ulster, put on a
bonnet, and went out."
"Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in
company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who
had already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran's house that
morning."
"Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady,
and your relations to her."
Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows.
"We have been on a friendly footing for some years--I may say on
a very friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have
not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just cause of
complaint against me, but you know what women are, Mr. Holmes.
Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and
devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful letters when she
heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell the truth, the
reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly was that I
feared lest there might be a scandal in the church. She came to
Mr. Doran's door just after we returned, and she endeavored to
push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions towards my
wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen the
possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police
fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again.
She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a
row."
"Did your wife hear all this?"
"No, thank goodness, she did not."
"And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?"
"Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as
so serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid
some terrible trap for her."
"Well, it is a possible supposition."
"You think so, too?"
"I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon
this as likely?"
"I do not think Flora would hurt a fly."
"Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray
what is your own theory as to what took place?"
"Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I
have given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may
say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of
this affair, the consciousness that she had made so immense a
social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous
disturbance in my wife."
"In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?"
"Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back--I
will not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to
without success--I can hardly explain it in any other fashion."
"Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis," said
Holmes, smiling. "And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have
nearly all my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the
breakfast-table so that you could see out of the window?"
"We could see the other side of the road and the Park."
"Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer.
I shall communicate with you."
"Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem," said our
client, rising.
"I have solved it."
"Eh? What was that?"
"I say that I have solved it."
"Where, then, is my wife?"
"That is a detail which I shall speedily supply."
Lord St. Simon shook his head. "I am afraid that it will take
wiser heads than yours or mine," he remarked, and bowing in a
stately, old-fashioned manner he departed.
"It is very good of Lord St. Simon to honor my head by putting