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the large houses and an examination of the family history of the
occupants。 One house； and only one； riveted my attention。 It is the
famous old Jacobean grange of High Gable； one mile on the farther side
of Oxshott； and less than half a mile from the scene of the tragedy。
The other mansions belonged to prosaic and respectable people who live
far aloof from romance。 But Mr。 Henderson； of High Gable； was by all
accounts a curious man to whom curious adventures might befall。 I
concentrated my attention； therefore； upon him and his household。
〃A singular set of people； Watson… the man himself the most singular
of them all。 I managed to see him on a plausible pretext； but I seemed
to read in his dark； deep…set； brooding eyes that he was perfectly
aware of my true business。 He is a man of fifty； strong； active；
with iron…gray hair； great bunched black eyebrows； the step of a deer；
and the air of an emperor… a fierce； masterful man； with a red…hot
spirit behind his parchment face。 He is either a foreigner or has
lived long in the tropics； for he is yellow and sapless； but tough
as whipcord。 His friend and secretary； Mr。 Lucas； is undoubtedly a
foreigner； chocolate brown； wily； suave； and catlike； with a poisonous
gentleness of speech。 You see； Watson； we have come already upon two
sets of foreigners… one at Wisteria Lodge and one at High Gable… so
our gaps are beginning to close。
〃These two men； close and confidential friends； are the centre of
the household； but there is one other person who for our immediate
purpose may be even more important。 Henderson has two children…
girls of eleven and thirteen。 Their governess is a Miss Burnet； an
Englishwoman of forty or thereabouts。 There is also one confidential
manservant。 This little group forms the real family； for they travel
about together； and Henderson is a great traveller； always on the
move。 It is only within the last few weeks that he has returned； after
a year's absence； to High Gable。 I may add that he is enormously rich；
and whatever his whims may be he can very easily satisfy them。 For the
rest； his house is full of butlers； footmen； maidservants； and the
usual overfed； underworked staff of a large English country…house。
〃So much I learned partly from village gossip and partly from my own
observation。 There are no better instruments than discharged
servants with a grievance； and I was lucky enough to find one。 I
call it luck； but it would not have come my way had I not been looking
out for it。 As Baynes remarks； we all have our systems。 It was my
system which enabled me to find John Warner； late gardener of High
Gable； sacked in a moment of temper by his imperious employer。 He in
turn had friends among the indoor servants who unite in their fear and
dislike of their master。 So I had my key to the secrets of the
establishment。
〃Curious people； Watson！ I don't pretend to understand it all yet；
but very curious people anyway。 It's a double…winged house； and the
servants live on one side； the family on the other。 There's no link
between the two save for Henderson's own servant； who serves the
family's meals。 Everything is carried to a certain door； which forms
the one connection。 Governess and children hardly go out at all；
except into the garden。 Henderson never by any chance walks alone。 His
dark secretary is like his shadow。 The gossip among the servants is
that their master is terribly afraid of something。 'Sold his soul to
the devil in exchange for money；' says Warner； 'and expects his
creditor to come up and claim his own。' Where they came from； or who
they are； nobody has an idea。 They are very violent。 Twice Henderson
has lashed at folk with his dog…whip； and only his long purse and
heavy compensation have kept him out of the courts。
〃Well； now； Watson； let us judge the situation by this new
information。 We may take it that the letter came out of this strange
household and was an invitation to Garcia to carry out some attempt
which had already been planned。 Who wrote the note？ It was someone
within the citadel； and it was a woman。 Who then but Miss Burnet；
the governess？ All our reasoning seems to point that way。 At any rate；
we may take it as a hypothesis and see what consequences it would
entail。 I may add that Miss Burnet's age and character make it certain
that my first idea that there might be a love interest in our story is
out of the question。
〃If she wrote the note she was presumably the friend and confederate
of Garcia。 What； then； might she be expected to do if she heard of his
death？ If he met it in some nefarious enterprise her lips might be
sealed。 Still； in her heart； she must retain bitterness and hatred
against those who had killed him and would presumably help so far as
she could to have revenge upon them。 Could we see her； then； and try
to use her？ That was my first thought。 But now we come to a sinister
fact。 Miss Burnet has not been seen by any human eye since the night
of the murder。 From that evening she has utterly vanished。 Is she
alive？ Has she perhaps met her end on the same night as the friend
whom she had summoned？ Or is she merely a prisoner？ There is the point
which we still have to decide。
〃You will appreciate the difficulty of the situation； Watson。
There is nothing upon which we can apply for a warrant。 Our whole
scheme might seem fantastic if laid before a magistrate。 The woman's
disappearance counts for nothing； since in that extraordinary
household any member of it might be invisible for a week。 And yet
she may at the present moment be in danger of her life。 All I can do
is to watch the house and leave my agent； Warner； on guard at the
gates。 We can't let such a situation continue。 If the law can do
nothing we must take the risk ourselves。〃
〃What do you suggest？〃
〃I know which is her room。 It is accessible from the top of an
outhouse。 My suggestion is that you and I go to…night and see if we
can strike at the very heart of the mystery。〃
It was not； I must confess； a very alluring prospect。 The old
house with its atmosphere of murder； the singular and formidable
inhabitants； the unknown dangers of the approach； and the fact that we
were putting ourselves legally in a false position all combined to
damp my ardour。 But there was something in the ice…cold reasoning of
Holmes which made it impossible to shrink from any adventure which
he might recommend。 One knew that thus； and only thus； could a
solution be found。 I clasped his hand in silence； and the die was
cast。
But it was not destined that our investigation should have so
adventurous an ending。 It was about five o'clock； and the shadows of
the March evening were beginning to fall； when an excited rustic
rushed into our room。
〃They've gone； Mr。 Holmes。 They went by the last train。 The lady
broke away； and I've got her in a cab downstairs。〃
〃Excellent； Warner！〃 cried Holmes； springing to his feet。 〃Watson；
the gaps are closing rapidly。〃
In the cab was a woman； half…collapsed from nervous exhaustion。
She bore upon her aquiline and emaciated face the