“The mere fact that the ring should be absent， whoever mayhave removed it， would suggest to anyone’s mind， would it not，that the marriage and the tragedy were connected？”
Barker shrugged his broad shoulders. “I can’t profess to say whatit means，” he answered. “But if you mean to hint that it couldreflect in any way upon this lady’s honour” —his eyes blazed for aninstant， and then with an evident effort he got a grip upon his ownemotions— “well， you are on the wrong track， that’s all.”
“I don’t know that I’ve anything else to ask you at present，” saidMacDonald， coldly.
“There was one small point，” remarked Sherlock Holmes. “Whenyou entered the room there was only a candle lighted on the table，was there not？”
“Yes， that was so.”
“By its light you saw that some terrible incident had occurred？”
“Exactly.”
“You at once rang for help？”
“Yes.”
“And it arrived very speedily？”
“Within a minute or so.”
“And yet when they arrived they found that the candle was outand that the lamp had been lighted. That seems very remarkable.”
Again Barker showed some signs of indecision. “I don’t see thatit was remarkable， Mr. Holmes，” he answered after a pause. “Thecandle threw a very bad light. My first thought was to get a betterone. The lamp was on the table； so I lit it.”
“And blew out the candle？”
“Exactly.”
Holmes asked no further question， and Barker， with a deliberatelook from one to the other of us， which had， as it seemed to me，something of defiance in it， turned and left the room.
Inspector MacDonald had sent up a note to the effect that hewould wait upon Mrs. Douglas in her room； but she had repliedthat she would meet us in the dining room. She entered now， atall and beautiful woman of thirty， reserved and self-possessedto a remarkable degree， very different from the tragic anddistracted figure I had pictured. It is true that her face was paleand drawn， like that of one who has endured a great shock； buther manner was composed， and the finely moulded hand whichshe rested upon the edge of the table was as steady as my own.
Her sad， appealing eyes travelled from one to the other of uswith a curiously inquisitive expression. That questioning gazetransformed itself suddenly into abrupt speech.
“Have you found anything out yet？” she asked.
Was it my imagination that there was an undertone of fearrather than of hope in the question？
“We have taken every possible step， Mrs. Douglas，” said theinspector. “You may rest assured that nothing will be neglected.”
“Spare no money，” she said in a dead， even tone. “It is my desirethat every possible effort should be made.”
“Perhaps you can tell us something which may throw some lightupon the matter.”
“I fear not； but all I know is at your service.”
“We have heard from Mr. Cecil Barker that you did notactually see—that you were never in the room where the tragedyoccurred？”
“No， he turned me back upon the stairs. He begged me to returnto my room.”
“Quite so. You had heard the shot， and you had at once comedown.”
“I put on my dressing gown and then came down.”
“How long was it after hearing the shot that you were stoppedon the stair by Mr. Barker？”
“It may have been a couple of minutes. It is so hard to reckontime at such a moment. He implored me not to go on. He assuredme that I could do nothing. Then Mrs. Allen， the housekeeper， ledme upstairs again. It was all like some dreadful dream.”
“Can you give us any idea how long your husband had beendownstairs before you heard the shot？”
“No， I cannot say. He went from his dressing room， and I didnot hear him go. He did the round of the house every night， forhe was nervous of fire. It is the only thing that I have ever knownhim nervous of.”
“That is just the point which I want to come to， Mrs. Douglas.
You have known your husband only in England， have you not？”
“Yes， we have been married five years.”
“Have you heard him speak of anything which occurred inAmerica and might bring some danger upon him？”
Mrs. Douglas thought earnestly before she answered. “Yes，” shesaid at last， “I have always felt that there was a danger hangingover him. He refused to discuss it with me. It was not from wantof confidence in me—there was the most complete love andconfidence between us—but it was out of his desire to keep allalarm away from me. He thought I should brood over it if I knewall， and so he was silent.”
“How did you know it， then？”
Mrs. Douglas’s face lit with a quick smile. “Can a husband evercarry about a secret all his life and a woman who loves him haveno suspicion of it？ I knew it by his refusal to talk about someepisodes in his American life. I knew it by certain precautions hetook. I knew it by certain words he let fall. I knew it by the wayhe looked at unexpected strangers. I was perfectly certain thathe had some powerful enemies， that he believed they were on histrack， and that he was always on his guard against them. I was sosure of it that for years I have been terrified if ever he came homelater than was expected.”
“Might I ask，” asked Holmes， “what the words were whichattracted your attention？”
“The Valley of Fear，” the lady answered. “That was an expressionhe has used when I questioned him. ‘I have been in the Valley ofFear. I am not out of it yet.’ — ‘Are we never to get out of the Valleyof Fear？’ I have asked him when I have seen him more serious thanusual. ‘Sometimes I think that we never shall，’ he has answered.”
“Surely you asked him what he meant by the Valley of Fear？”
“I did； but his face would become very grave and he would shakehis head. ‘It is bad enough that one of us should have been in itsshadow，’ he said. ‘Please God it shall never fall upon you！’ It wassome real valley in which he had lived and in which somethingterrible had occurred to him， of that I am certain； but I can tellyou no more.”