“From the first， two facts were very obvious to me， the one thatthe lady had been quite willing to undergo the wedding ceremony，the other that she had repented of it within a few minutes ofreturning home. Obviously something had occurred during themorning， then， to cause her to change her mind. What could thatsomething be？ She could not have spoken to anyone when shewas out， for she had been in the company of the bridegroom. Hadshe seen someone， then？ If she had， it must be someone fromAmerica because she had spent so short a time in this countrythat she could hardly have allowed anyone to acquire so deep aninfluence over her that the mere sight of him would induce her tochange her plans so completely. You see we have already arrived，by a process of exclusion， at the idea that she might have seen anAmerican. Then who could this American be， and why should hepossess so much influence over her？ It might be a lover； it mightbe a husband. Her young womanhood had， I knew， been spent inrough scenes and under strange conditions. So far I had got beforeI ever heard Lord St. Simon’s narrative. When he told us of a manin a pew， of the change in the bride’s manner， of so transparent adevice for obtaining a note as the dropping of a bouquet， of herresort to her confidential maid， and of her very significant allusionto claim-jumping—which in miners’ parlance means takingpossession of that which another person has a prior claim to—thewhole situation became absolutely clear. She had gone off with aman， and the man was either a lover or was a previous husband—the chances being in favour of the latter.”
“And how in the world did you find them？”
“It might have been difficult， but friend Lestrade held informationin his hands the value of which he did not himself know. The initialswere， of course， of the highest importance， but more valuable stillwas it to know that within a week he had settled his bill at one ofthe most select London hotels.”
“How did you deduce the select？”
“By the select prices. Eight shillings for a bed and eightpencefor a glass of sherry pointed to one of the most expensive hotels.
There are not many in London which charge at that rate. Inthe second one which I visited in Northumberland Avenue， Ilearned by an inspection of the book that Francis H. Moulton， anAmerican gentleman， had left only the day before， and on lookingover the entries against him， I came upon the very items whichI had seen in the duplicate bill. His letters were to be forwardedto 226 Gordon Square； so thither I travelled， and being fortunateenough to find the loving couple at home， I ventured to givethem some paternal advice and to point out to them that it wouldbe better in every way that they should make their position alittle clearer both to the general public and to Lord St. Simonin particular. I invited them to meet him here， and， as you see， Imade him keep the appointment.”
“But with no very good result，” I remarked. “His conduct wascertainly not very gracious.”
“Ah， Watson，” said Holmes， smiling， “perhaps you would notbe very gracious either， if， after all the trouble of wooing andwedding， you found yourself deprived in an instant of wife and offortune. I think that we may judge Lord St. Simon very mercifullyand thank our stars that we are never likely to find ourselves inthe same position. Draw your chair up and hand me my violin， forthe only problem we have still to solve is how to while away thesebleak autumnal evenings.”
The Adventure of the Beryl Coronet
“Holmes，” said I as I stood one morning in our bow-windowlooking down the street， “here is a madman coming along. Itseems rather sad that his relatives should allow him to come outalone.”
My friend rose lazily from his armchair and stood with his handsin the pockets of his dressing-gown， looking over my shoulder.
It was a bright， crisp February morning， and the snow of the daybefore still lay deep upon the ground， shimmering brightly in thewintry sun. Down the centre of Baker Street it had been ploughedinto a brown crumbly band by the traffic， but at either side and onthe heaped-up edges of the foot-paths it still lay as white as whenit fell. The grey pavement had been cleaned and scraped， but wasstill dangerously slippery， so that there were fewer passengers thanusual. Indeed， from the direction of the Metropolitan Stationno one was coming save the single gentleman whose eccentricconduct had drawn my attention.
He was a man of about fifty， tall， portly， and imposing， with amassive， strongly marked face and a commanding figure. He wasdressed in a sombre yet rich style， in black frock-coat， shining hat，neat brown gaiters， and well-cut pearl-grey trousers. Yet his actionswere in absurd contrast to the dignity of his dress and features， forhe was running hard， with occasional little springs， such as a wearyman gives who is little accustomed to set any tax upon his legs.
As he ran he jerked his hands up and down， waggled his head， andwrithed his face into the most extraordinary contortions.
“What on earth can be the matter with him？” I asked. “He islooking up at the numbers of the houses.”
“I believe that he is coming here，” said Holmes， rubbing hishands.
“Here？”
“Yes； I rather think he is coming to consult me professionally.
I think that I recognise the symptoms. Ha！ did I not tell you？”
As he spoke， the man， puffing and blowing， rushed at our doorand pulled at our bell until the whole house resounded with theclanging.
A few moments later he was in our room， still puffing， stillgesticulating， but with so fixed a look of grief and despair inhis eyes that our smiles were turned in an instant to horror andpity. For a while he could not get his words out， but swayed hisbody and plucked at his hair like one who has been driven to theextreme limits of his reason. Then， suddenly springing to his feet，he beat his head against the wall with such force that we bothrushed upon him and tore him away to the centre of the room.