“I’d be very glad if you could tell me where that lady maybe,” Peters answered coolly. “I’ve a bill against her for a nearlyhundred pounds, and nothing to show for it but a couple oftrumpery pendants that the dealer would hardly look at. Sheattached herself to Mrs. Peters and me at Baden—it is a fact thatwas using another name at the time—and she stuck on to usuntil we came to London. I paid her bill and her ticket. Once inLondon, she gave us the slip, and, as I say, left these out-of-datejewels to pay her bills. You find her, Mr. Holmes, and I’m yourdebtor.”
“I mean to find her,” said Sherlock Holmes. “I’m going throughthis house till I do find her.”
“Where is your warrant?”
Holmes half drew a revolver from his pocket. “This will have toserve till a better one comes.”
“Why, you are a common burglar.”
“So you might describe me,” said Holmes cheerfully. “Mycompanion is also a dangerous ruffian. And together we are goingthrough your house.”
Our opponent opened the door.
“Fetch a policeman, Annie!” said he. There was a whisk offeminine skirts down the passage, and the hall door was openedand shut.
The Adventure of Wisteria Lodge 1195
“Our time is limited, Watson,” said Holmes. “If you try to stopus, Peters, you will most certainly get hurt. Where is that coffinwhich was brought into your house?”
“What do you want with the coffin? It is in use. There is a bodyin it.”
“I must see the body.”
“Never with my consent.”
“Then without it.” With a quick movement Holmes pushed thefellow to one side and passed into the hall. A door half openedstood immediately before us. We entered. It was the diningroom.
On the table, under a half-lit chandelier, the coffin waslying. Holmes turned up the gas and raised the lid. Deep down inthe recesses of the coffin lay an emaciated figure. The glare fromthe lights above beat down upon an aged and withered face. Byno possible process of cruelty, starvation, or disease could thisworn-out wreck be the still beautiful Lady Frances. Holmes’s faceshowed his amazement, and also his relief.
“Thank God!” he muttered. “It’s someone else.”
“Ah, you’ve blundered badly for once, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,”
said Peters, who had followed us into the room.
“Who is the dead woman?”
“Well, if you really must know, she is an old nurse of my wife’s,Rose Spender by name, whom we found in the Brixton WorkhouseInfirmary. We brought her round here, called in Dr. Horsom, of 13Firbank Villas—mind you take the address, Mr. Holmes—and hadher carefully tended, as Christian folk should. On the third day shedied—certificate says senile decay—but that’s only the doctor’sopinion, and of course you know better. We ordered her funeral tobe carried out by Stimson and Co., of the Kennington Road, whowill bury her at eight o’clock to-morrow morning. Can you pickany hole in that, Mr. Holmes? You’ve made a silly blunder, and youmay as well own up to it. I’d give something for a photograph ofyour gaping, staring face when you pulled aside that lid expectingto see the Lady Frances Carfax and only found a poor old womanof ninety.”
Holmes’s expression was as impassive as ever under the jeersof his antagonist, but his clenched hands betrayed his acuteannoyance.
“I am going through your house,” said he.
“Are you, though!” cried Peters as a woman’s voice and heavysteps sounded in the passage. “We’ll soon see about that. This way,officers, if you please. These men have forced their way into myhouse, and I cannot get rid of them. Help me to put them out.”
A sergeant and a constable stood in the doorway. Holmes drewhis card from his case.
1196 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
“This is my name and address. This is my friend, Dr. Watson.”
“Bless you, sir, we know you very well,” said the sergeant, “butyou can’t stay here without a warrant.”
“Of course not. I quite understand that.”
“Arrest him!” cried Peters.
“We know where to lay our hands on this gentleman if he iswanted,” said the sergeant majestically, “but you’ll have to go, Mr.
Holmes.”
“Yes, Watson, we shall have to go.”
A minute later we were in the street once more. Holmes wasas cool as ever, but I was hot with anger and humiliation. Thesergeant had followed us.
“Sorry, Mr. Holmes, but that’s the law.”
“Exactly, Sergeant, you could not do otherwise.”
“I expect there was good reason for your presence there. Ifthere is anything I can do—”
“It’s a missing lady, Sergeant, and we think she is in that house. Iexpect a warrant presently.”
“Then I’ll keep my eye on the parties, Mr. Holmes. If anythingcomes along, I will surely let you know.”
It was only nine o’clock, and we were off full cry upon the trailat once. First we drove to Brixton Workhoused Infirmary, wherewe found that it was indeed the truth that a charitable couple hadcalled some days before, that they had claimed an imbecile oldwoman as a former servant, and that they had obtained permissionto take her away with them. No surprise was expressed at the newsthat she had since died.
The doctor was our next goal. He had been called in, had foundthe woman dying of pure senility, had actually seen her pass away,and had signed the certificate in due form. “I assure you thateverything was perfectly normal and there was no room for foulplay in the matter,” said he. Nothing in the house had struck him assuspicious save that for people of their class it was remarkable thatthey should have no servant. So far and no further went the doctor.
Finally we found our way to Scotland Yard. There had beendifficulties of procedure in regard to the warrant. Some delay wasinevitable. The magistrate’s signature might not be obtained untilnext morning. If Holmes would call about nine he could go downwith Lestrade and see it acted upon. So ended the day, save thatnear midnight our friend, the sergeant, called to say that he hadseen flickering lights here and there in the windows of the greatdark house, but that no one had left it and none had entered. Wecould but pray for patience and wait for the morrow.