The Black Swan is an inn of repute in the High Street， at nodistance from the station， and there we found the young ladywaiting for us. She had engaged a sitting-room， and our lunchawaited us upon the table.
“I am so delighted that you have come，” she said earnestly. “It isso very kind of you both； but indeed I do not know what I shoulddo. Your advice will be altogether invaluable to me.”
“Pray tell us what has happened to you.”
“I will do so， and I must be quick， for I have promised Mr.
Rucastle to be back before three. I got his leave to come into townthis morning， though he little knew for what purpose.”
“Let us have everything in its due order.” Holmes thrust his longthin legs out towards the fire and composed himself to listen.
“In the first place， I may say that I have met， on the whole， withno actual ill-treatment from Mr. and Mrs. Rucastle. It is only fairto them to say that. But I cannot understand them， and I am noteasy in my mind about them.”
“What can you not understand？”
“Their reasons for their conduct. But you shall have it all just asit occurred. When I came down， Mr. Rucastle met me here anddrove me in his dog-cart to the Copper Beeches. It is， as he said，beautifully situated， but it is not beautiful in itself， for it is a largesquare block of a house， whitewashed， but all stained and streakedwith damp and bad weather. There are grounds round it， woodson three sides， and on the fourth a field which slopes down to theSouthampton highroad， which curves past about a hundred yardsfrom the front door. This ground in front belongs to the house，but the woods all round are part of Lord Southerton’s preserves. Aclump of copper beeches immediately in front of the hall door hasgiven its name to the place.
“I was driven over by my employer， who was as amiable as ever，and was introduced by him that evening to his wife and the child.
There was no truth， Mr. Holmes， in the conjecture which seemedto us to be probable in your rooms at Baker Street. Mrs. Rucastleis not mad. I found her to be a silent， pale-faced woman， muchyounger than her husband， not more than thirty， I should think，while he can hardly be less than forty-five. From their conversationI have gathered that they have been married about seven years，that he was a widower， and that his only child by the first wifewas the daughter who has gone to Philadelphia. Mr. Rucastle toldme in private that the reason why she had left them was that shehad an unreasoning aversion to her stepmother. As the daughtercould not have been less than twenty， I can quite imagine that herposition must have been uncomfortable with her father’s youngwife.
“Mrs. Rucastle seemed to me to be colourless in mind as well asin feature. She impressed me neither favourably nor the reverse.
She was a nonentity. It was easy to see that she was passionatelydevoted both to her husband and to her little son. Her lightgrey eyes wandered continually from one to the other， notingevery little want and forestalling it if possible. He was kind toher also in his bluff， boisterous fashion， and on the whole theyseemed to be a happy couple. And yet she had some secret sorrow，this woman. She would often be lost in deep thought， with thesaddest look upon her face. More than once I have surprised herin tears. I have thought sometimes that it was the disposition ofher child which weighed upon her mind， for I have never met soutterly spoiled and so ill-natured a little creature. He is small forhis age， with a head which is quite disproportionately large. Hiswhole life appears to be spent in an alternation between savagefits of passion and gloomy intervals of sulking. Giving pain toany creature weaker than himself seems to be his one idea ofamusement， and he shows quite remarkable talent in planning thecapture of mice， little birds， and insects. But I would rather nottalk about the creature， Mr. Holmes， and， indeed， he has little todo with my story.”
“I am glad of all details，” remarked my friend， “whether theyseem to you to be relevant or not.”
“I shall try not to miss anything of importance. The oneunpleasant thing about the house， which struck me at once， wasthe appearance and conduct of the servants. There are only two， aman and his wife. Toller， for that is his name， is a rough， uncouthman， with grizzled hair and whiskers， and a perpetual smell ofdrink. Twice since I have been with them he has been quitedrunk， and yet Mr. Rucastle seemed to take no notice of it. Hiswife is a very tall and strong woman with a sour face， as silent asMrs. Rucastle and much less amiable. They are a most unpleasantcouple， but fortunately I spend most of my time in the nurseryand my own room， which are next to each other in one corner ofthe building.
“For two days after my arrival at the Copper Beeches my lifewas very quiet； on the third， Mrs. Rucastle came down just afterbreakfast and whispered something to her husband.
“ ‘Oh， yes，’ said he， turning to me， ‘we are very much obligedto you， Miss Hunter， for falling in with our whims so far as to cutyour hair. I assure you that it has not detracted in the tiniest iotafrom your appearance. We shall now see how the electric-bluedress will become you. You will find it laid out upon the bed inyour room， and if you would be so good as to put it on we shouldboth be extremely obliged.’
“The dress which I found waiting for me was of a peculiar shadeof blue. It was of excellent material， a sort of beige， but it boreunmistakable signs of having been worn before. It could not havebeen a better fit if I had been measured for it. Both Mr. and Mrs.