The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes. B1 / Приключения Шерлока Холмса

“Yes, sir. I met him that night, and he visited us next day to ask if we had got home all safe, and after that we met him-that is to say, Mr. Holmes, I met him twice for walks, but father came back again, and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to the house any more.”

“No?”

“Well, you know father didn't like anything of the sort. He wouldn't have any visitors and he used to say that a woman should be happy in her own family circle. But then, as I used to say to mother, a woman wants her own circle to begin with, and I had not got mine yet.”

“But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel? Did he make no attempt to see you?”

“Well, father was going to France again in a week, and Hosmer wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to see each other until he had gone. We could write in the meantime, and he used to write every day. I used to get the letters in the morning, so there was no need for father to know.”

“Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time?”

“Oh, yes, Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walk that we took. Hosmer-Mr. Angel-was a cashier in an office in Leadenhall Street – and-”

“What office?”

“That's the worst of it, Mr. Holmes, I don't know.”

“Where did he live, then?”

“He slept at the office.”

“And you don't know his address?”

“No-except that it was Leadenhall Street.”

“Where did you address your letters, then?”

“To the Leadenhall Street Post Office, to be left till called for. He said that if they were sent to the office he would be laughed by all the other clerks about having letters from a lady. I offered to typewrite to him, like he did to me, but he wouldn't have that. He said that when I wrote them they seemed to come from me, but when they were typewritten he always felt that the machine had come between us. That will show you how fond he was of me, Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would think of.”

“It was most suggestive,” said Holmes. “The little things are, no doubt, the most important. Can you remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?”

“He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me in the evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to get too much attention. Very retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice was gentle. He'd had the sore throat and swollen glands when he was young, he told me, and it had left him with a weak throat, and a hesitating, whispering manner of speech. He was always well dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes were weak, just as mine are, and he wore glasses against the bright light.”

“Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, returned to France?”

“Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should marry before father came back. He made me swear, with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I would always be true to him. Mother said he was quite right to make me swear, and that it was a sign of his passion. Mother liked him even more than I did. Then, when they talked of marrying within the week, I began to ask about father; but they both said that I should not be afraid of him, but just to tell him afterwards, and mother said she would make it all right with him. I didn't quite like that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his permission, as he was only a few years older than me; but I didn't want to do anything in secret, so I wrote to father's French office, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the wedding.”

“It missed him, then?”

“Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived.”

“Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for the Friday. Was it to be in church?”

“Yes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St. Saviour's, near King's Cross, and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St. Pancras Hotel. Hosmer came for us in a cab, but as there were two of us he put us both into it and stepped himself into a four-wheeler, which happened to be the only other cab in the street. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did. When the cabman got down from the box and looked there was no one inside! The cabman said that he could not imagine what had become of him. That was last Friday, Mr. Holmes, and I have never heard anything about him since then.”

“It seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated,” said Holmes.

“Oh, no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I should stay true; and that even if something happened to separate us, I should always remember my promise to him. It seemed strange talk for a wedding-morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it.”

“Most certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some catastrophe has occurred to him?”

“Yes, sir. I believe that he has known about some danger. And then I think something has happened.”

“But you have no notion as to what it could have been?”

“None.”

“One more question. How did your mother take the matter?”

“She was angry, and said that I should never speak of the matter again.”

“And your father? Did you tell him?”

“Yes; and he seemed to agree with me that something had happened and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the church, and then leaving me? Mr. Hosmer didn't take my money. And yet, what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me mad to think of it, and I can't sleep at night.” She began to cry heavily.

“I shall glance into the case for you,” said Holmes, rising, “and I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind concentrate on it further. Above all, try to let Mr. Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he has vanished from your life.”

“Then you don't think I'll see him again?”

“I fear not.”

“Then what has happened to him?”

“You will leave that question in my hands. I should like a description of him and any letters of his which you can spare.”

“I advertised for him in last Saturday's Chronicle,” said she. “Here is the slip and here are four letters from him.”

“Thank you. And your address?”

“No. 31 Lyon Place, Camberwell.”

“Mr. Angel's address you never had, I understand. Where is your father's place of business?”

“He travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret importers of Fenchurch Street.”

“Thank you. You have made your statement very clear. You will leave the papers here, and remember the advice which I have given you. Let the whole incident be a sealed book, and do not allow it to affect your life.

“You are very kind, Mr. Holmes, but I cannot do that. I shall be true to Hosmer. He shall find me ready when he comes back.”

With all the silly hat and the unwise face, there was something noble in the simple faith of our visitor which made us respect her. She laid her papers upon the table and went her way, with a promise to come again whenever she might be needed.

Sherlock Holmes sat silent for a few minutes with his fingertips still pressed together, his legs stretched out in front of him, and his gaze directed upwards. Then he took down from the shelf the old and oily clay pipe, which was to him as a counsellor, and leaned back in his chair, with the thick blue smoke clouds spinning up from him, and a look of real sadness in his face.

“Quite an interesting study, that maiden,” he observed. “I found her more interesting than her little problem, which, by the way, is rather a common one. However, there were one or two details which were new to me. But the maiden herself was most interesting.”

“You appeared to read a good deal upon her which was quite invisible to me,” I remarked.

“Not invisible but unnoticed, Watson. You did not know where to look, and so you missed all that was important. I can never bring you to realise the importance of sleeves, the meaning of thumbnails, or the great issues that may hang from a bootlace. Now, what did you gather from that woman's appearance? Describe it.”