Sherlock Holmes complete collection by sir arthur conan doyle

THE SIGN OF FOUR: Chapter 2 THE STATEMENT OF THE CASE

MISS MORSTAN entered the room with a firm step and an outwardcomposure of manner. She was a blonde young lady, small, dainty, wellgloved, and dressed in the most perfect taste. There was, however, aplainness and simplicity about her costume which bore with it asuggestion of limited means. The dress was a sombre grayish beige,untrimmed and unbraided, and she wore a small turban of the same dullhue, relieved only by a suspicion of white feather in the side. Her face hadneither regularity of feature nor beauty of complexion, but her expressionwas sweet and amiable, and her large blue eyes were singularly spiritualand sympathetic. In an experience of women which extends over manynations and three separate continents, I have never looked upon a facewhich gave a clearer promise of a refined and sensitive nature. I could notbut observe that as she took the seat which Sherlock Holmes placed forher, her lip trembled, her hand quivered, and she showed every sign ofintense inward agitation."I have come to you, Mr. Holmes," she said, "because you onceenabled my employer, Mrs. Cecil Forrester, to unravel a little domesticcomplication. She was much impressed by your kindness and skill.""Mrs. Cecil Forrester," he repeated thoughtfully. "I believe that I wasof some slight service to her. The case, however, as I remember it, was avery simple one.""She did not think so. But at least you cannot say the same of mine. Ican hardly imagine anything more strange, more utterly inexplicable, thanthe situation in which I find myself."Holmes rubbed his hands, and his eyes glistened. He leaned forward inhis chair with an expression of extraordinary concentration upon his clearcut, hawklike features."State your case," said he in brisk business tones.I felt that my position was an embarrassing one."You will, I am sure, excuse me," I said, rising from my chair.To my surprise, the young lady held up her gloved hand to detain me."If your friend," she said, "would be good enough to stop, he might beof inestimable service to me."I relapsed into my chair."Briefly," she continued, "the facts are these. My father was an officerin an Indian regiment, who sent me home when I was quite a child. Mymother was dead, and I had no relative in England. I was placed,however, in a comfortable boarding establishment at Edinburgh, and thereI remained until I was seventeen years of age. In the year 1878 my father,who was senior captain of his regiment, obtained twelve months' leaveand came home. He telegraphed to me from London that he had arrivedall safe and directed me to come down at once, giving the Langham Hotelas his address. His message, as I remember, was full of kindness and love.On reaching London I drove to the Langham and was informed thatCaptain Morstan was staying there, but that he had gone out the nightbefore and had not returned. I waited all day without news of him. Thatnight, on the [95] advice of the manager of the hotel, I communicated withthe police, and next morning we advertised in all the papers. Our inquiriesled to no result; and from that day to this no word has ever been heard ofmy unfortunate father. He came home with his heart full of hope to findsome peace, some comfort, and instead- -" She put her hand to her throat, and a choking sob cut short the sentence."The date?" asked Holmes, opening his notebook."He disappeared upon the third of December, 1878-nearly ten yearsago.""His luggage?""Remained at the hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest a clue-someclothes, some books, and a considerable number of curiosities from theAndaman Islands. He had been one of the officers in charge of theconvict-guard there.""Had he any friends in town?""Only one that we know of-Major Sholto, of his own regiment, theThirty-fourth Bombay Infantry. The major had retired some little timebefore and lived at Upper Norwood. We communicated with him, ofcourse, but he did not even know that his brother officer was in England.""A singular case," remarked Holmes."I have not yet described to you the most singular part. About six yearsago-to be exact, upon the fourth of May, 1882-an advertisementappeared in the Times asking for the address of Miss Mary Morstan, andstating that it would be to her advantage to come forward. There was noname or address appended. I had at that time just entered the family ofMrs. Cecil Forrester in the capacity of governess. By her advice Ipublished my address in the advertisement column. The same day therearrived through the post a small cardboard box addressed to me, which Ifound to contain a very large and lustrous pearl. No word of writing wasenclosed. Since then every year upon the same date there has alwaysappeared a similar box, containing a similar pearl, without any clue as tothe sender. They have been pronounced by an expert to be of a rarevariety and of considerable value. You can see for yourself that they arevery handsome."She opened a flat box as she spoke and showed me six of the finestpearls that I had ever seen."Your statement is most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes. "Hasanything else occurred to you?""Yes, and no later than to-day. That is why I have come to you. Thismorning I received this letter, which you will perhaps read for yourself.""Thank you," said Holmes. "The envelope, too, please. Post-mark,London, S. W. Date, July 7. Hum! Man's thumb-mark oncorner-probably postman. Best quality paper. Envelopes at sixpence apacket. Particular man in his stationery. No address."Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Lyceum Theatreto-night at seven o'clock. If you are distrustful bring two friends.You are a wronged woman and shall have justice. Do not bringpolice. If you do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.Well, really, this is a very pretty little mystery! What do you intend todo, Miss Morstan?""That is exactly what I want to ask you.""Then we shall most certainly go-you and I and-yes, why Dr. Watson is the [96] very man. Your correspondent says two friends. He and I haveworked together before.""But would he come?" she asked with something appealing in her voiceand expression."I shall be proud and happy," said I fervently, "if I can be of anyservice.""You are both very kind," she answered. "I have led a retired life andhave no friends whom I could appeal to. If I am here at six it will do, Isuppose?""You must not be later," said Holmes. "There is one other point,however. Is this handwriting the same as that upon the pearl-boxaddresses?""I have them here," she answered, producing half a dozen pieces ofpaper."You are certainly a model client. You have the correct intuition. Let ussee, now." He spread out the papers upon the table and gave little dartingglances from one to the other. "They are disguised hands, except theletter," he said presently; "but there can be no question as to theauthorship. See how the irrepressible Greek e will break out, and see thetwirl of the final s. They are undoubtedly by the same person. I should notlike to suggest false hopes, Miss Morstan, but is there any resemblancebetween this hand and that of your father?""Nothing could be more unlike.""I expected to hear you say so. We shall look out for you, then, at six.Pray allow me to keep the papers. I may look into the matter before then.It is only half-past three. Au revoir, then.""Au revoir," said our visitor; and with a bright, kindly glance from oneto the other of us, she replaced her pearl-box in her bosom and hurriedaway.Standing at the window, I watched her walking briskly down the streetuntil the gray turban and white feather were but a speck in the sombrecrowd."What a very attractive woman!" I exclaimed, turning to mycompanion.He had lit his pipe again and was leaning back with drooping eyelids."Is she?" he said languidly; "I did not observe.""You really are an automaton-a calculating machine," I cried. "There issomething positively inhuman in you at times."He smiled gently."It is of the first importance," he cried, "not to allow your judgment tobe biased by personal qualities. A client is to me a mere unit, a factor in aproblem. The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning. Iassure you that the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged forpoisoning three little children for their insurance-money, and the mostrepellent man of my acquaintance is a philanthropist who has spent nearlya quarter of a million upon the London poor.""In this case, however- -""I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule. Have youever had occasion to study character in handwriting? What do you make of this fellow's scribble?""It is legible and regular," I answered. "A man of business habits andsome force of character."Holmes shook his head."Look at his long letters," he said. "They hardly rise above the commonherd. That d might be an a, and that l an e. Men of character alwaysdifferentiate their long letters, however illegibly they may write. There isvacillation in his k's and self-esteem in his capitals. I am going out now. Ihave some few references to [97] make. Let me recommend this book-oneof the most remarkable ever penned. It is Winwood Reade's Martyrdomof Man. I shall be back in an hour."I sat in the window with the volume in my hand, but my thoughts werefar from the daring speculations of the writer. My mind ran upon our latevisitor -her smiles, the deep rich tones of her voice, the strange mysterywhich overhung her life. If she were seventeen at the time of her father'sdisappearance she must be seven-and-twenty now-a sweet age, whenyouth has lost its self-consciousness and become a little sobered byexperience. So I sat and mused until such dangerous thoughts came intomy head that I hurried away to my desk and plunged furiously into thelatest treatise upon pathology. What was I, an army surgeon with a weakleg and a weaker banking account, that I should dare to think of suchthings? She was a unit, a factor-nothing more. If my future were black, itwas better surely to face it like a man than to attempt to brighten it bymere will-o'-the-wisps of the imagination.