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Page 21
"You wish to employ me as a consulting detective?"
"Not that only. I want your opinion as a judicious
man--as a man of the world. I want to know what I
ought to do next. I hope to God you'll be able to
tell me."
He spoke in little, sharp, jerky outbursts, and it
seemed to me that to speak at all was very painful to
him, and that his will all through was overriding his
inclinations.
"It's a very delicate thing," said he. "One does not
like to speak of one's domestic affairs to strangers.
It seems dreadful to discuss the conduct of one's wife
with two men whom I have never seen before. It's
horrible to have to do it. But I've got to the end of
my tether, and I must have advice."
"My dear Mr. Grant Munro--" began Holmes.
Our visitor sprang from his char. "What!" he cried,
"you know my mane?"
"If you wish to preserve your incognito," said Holmes,
smiling, "I would suggest that you cease to write your
name upon the lining of your hat, or else that you
turn the crown towards the person whom you are
addressing. I was about to say that my friend and I
have listened to a good many strange secrets in this
room, and that we have had the good fortune to bring
peace to many troubled souls. I trust that we may do
as much for you. Might I beg you, as time may prove
to be of importance, to furnish me with the facts of
your case without further delay?"
Our visitor again passed his hand over his forehead,
as if he found it bitterly hard. From every gesture
and expression I could see that he was a reserved,
self-contained man, with a dash of pride in his
nature, more likely to hide his wounds than to expose
them. Then suddenly, with a fierce gesture of his
closed hand, like one who throws reserve to the winds,
he began.
"The facts are these, Mr. Holmes," said he. "I am a
married man, and have been so for three years. During
that time my wife and I have loved each other as
fondly and lived as happily as any two that ever were
joined. We have not had a difference, not one, in
thought or word or deed. And now, since last Monday,
there has suddenly sprung up a barrier between us, and
I find that there is something in her life and in her
thought of which I know as little as if she were the
woman who brushes by me in the street. We are
estranged, and I want to know why.
"Now there is one thing that I want to impress upon
you before I go any further, Mr. Holmes. Effie loves
me. Don't let there be any mistake about that. She
loves me with her whole heart and soul, and never more
than now. I know it. I feel it. I don't want to
argue about that. A man can tell easily enough when a
woman loves him. But there's this secret between us,
and we can never be the same until it is cleared."
"Kindly let me have the facts, Mr. Munro," said
Holmes, with some impatience.
"I'll tell you what I know about Effie's history. She
was a widow when I met her first, though quite
young--only twenty-five. Her name then was Mrs.
Hebron. She went out to America when she was young,
and lived in the town of Atlanta, where she married
this Hebron, who was a lawyer with a good practice.
They had one child, but the yellow fever broke out
badly in the place, and both husband and child died of
it. I have seen his death certificate. This sickened
her of America, and she came back to live with a
maiden aunt at Pinner, in Middlesex. I may mention
that her husband had left her comfortably off, and
that she had a capital of about four thousand five
hundred pounds, which had been so well invested by him
that it returned an average of seven per cent. She
had only been six months at Pinner when I met her; we
fell in love with each other, and we married a few
weeks afterwards.
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