The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax

'Turkish, Watson?' asked Sherlock Holmes, looking at my shoes.

'No, they are English, of course!' I answered. 'I bought them here in London, at Latimer's in Oxford Street.'

Holmes smiled.

'I was not talking about your shoes, Watson,' he said. 'I was talking about the bath! You have had a Turkish bath today, haven't you?'

'Yes, I have. But how did you know that, Holmes?'

'My dear Watson, I looked at your shoes.'

'Perhaps I am a little stupid,' I said, 'because I don't understand how a pair of English shoes and a Turkish bath can be connected! Won't you explain?'

'It is very simple,' he said. 'You are in the habit of fastening your shoes in a particular way. But today they are fastened with a beautiful double knot. So it is clear that you have taken them off. And somebody else has fastened them for you. Who was this person? A man in a shoe shop? No. You bought some new shoes only a week ago. It was not a man in a shoe shop. It was the servant at the Turkish bath. It is simple, isn't it? And why, Watson, did you go to the Turkish bath?'

'Because I have been feeling old and ill for the last few days. A Turkish bath usually makes me feel well again.'

'You need a change, Watson. I suggest Switzerland. Would you like to stay at the best hotel in Lausanne? You would live like a king, and it would be completely free! And of course you would travel first class on the train.'

'That would be wonderful,' I said. 'But why are you offering me an opportunity like this?'

Holmes did not answer. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and took his notebook from his pocket.

'Chickens are helpless among wild animals, Watson,' he began at last. 'And unmarried ladies who wander about the world from one hotel to another put themselves in great danger from wicked people. If such a lady disappears, nobody misses her. I very much fear that some terrible harm has come to Lady Frances Carfax.

'Lady Frances,' he continued, 'is the last member of a noble family. Her father and her brothers are all dead. She is not a rich woman, but she has some fine old Spanish jewelry, made of silver and beautiful diamonds. She loves this jewelry so much that she has always refused to leave it at her bank for safety. So she carries her diamonds about with her everywhere. Watson, I am sorry for Lady Frances Carfax. She is not old; she is still a beautiful woman; and yet she is completely alone in the world.'

'And what has happened to her?' I asked.

'Ah, Watson, that is the mystery we have to deal with! I don't even know whether she is alive or dead. She is a lady of very regular habits, and for the last four years she has written a letter every two weeks to her old nurse. The nurse, whose name is Miss Dobney, lives in Camberwell, here in London. It is Miss Dobney who has asked for my help. Lady Frances has not written to her for nearly five weeks. Her last letter came from the National Hotel in Lausanne. The manager of the hotel says that the lady left without telling anybody her new address. Miss Dobney is very anxious about her. So are Lady Frances's rich and noble cousins. We shall not run short of money, Watson!'

'Is Miss Dobney the only person Lady Frances writes to here in England?'

'No. There is also the manager of her bank. I have talked to him. He showed me her used cheques. There were two recent ones. The first was for a very large amount, much more than enough to pay her hotel bill. The second cheque was for fifty pounds, and was made out to Miss Marie Devine. The money was paid to Miss Devine less than three weeks ago, at a bank in Montpellier in the south of France.'

'And who is Miss Marie Devine?' I asked.

'I have already found that out,' Holmes answered. 'She was Lady Frances's servant. I have not yet found out why Lady Frances gave her that cheque. I have no doubt, however, that you will be able to discover the reason.'

'I, Holmes!'

'Yes, Watson. That was why I suggested a holiday in Switzerland. You know that I cannot possibly leave London just now. The London police would feel lonely if I went abroad! So you must go, Watson. Send me a telegram if you need my advice.'

Two days later I was at the National Hotel in Lausanne. The manager, Mr Moser, told me that Lady Frances had stayed there for several weeks. Everyone who met her had liked her very much. She was not more than forty years old. She was still a fine woman, and one could see that she had once been very beautiful. Mr Moser did not know that she had any valuable jewelry. However, the servants had noticed that there was one large heavy box that was always locked. Marie Devine, the maid, was as popular as Lady Frances herself. In fact she was going to marry one of the waiters at the hotel. I had no difficulty in getting her address. It was 11, rue de Trajan—that is, Trajan Street—Montpellier, France. I wrote all this down in a little notebook. I was proud of my cleverness: Holmes himself could not have gathered together more facts!

But the biggest mystery still remained. What was the reason for Lady Frances's sudden decision to leave? She was very happy in Lausanne. Everyone had expected her to stay for several months. She had had lovely rooms with a view of the Lake of Geneva. And yet she had left so suddenly! She had even had to pay a week's rent uselessly! Mr Moser could not understand it. Only Jules Vibart, the waiter who was going to marry Marie Devine, was able to give me any useful information. A day or two before Lady Frances left, a tall, dark man with a beard had visited the hotel.

'He was like a wild animal!' cried Jules Vibart.

The man had rooms somewhere in the town. Vibart and Marie had seen him by the lake with Lady Frances, talking very earnestly to her. The next time the man came to the hotel, Lady Frances had refused to see him. He was English, but Vibart did not know his name. Lady Frances had left Lausanne immediately afterwards. Vibart and Marie both thought that the strange Englishman's visit was the cause of Lady Frances's decision to leave.

I asked Vibart why Marie had left the lady. But he refused to answer.

'I cannot tell you that, sir,' he said. 'If you want to find out, you must go to Montpellier and ask Marie herself.'

After my conversations with Mr Moser and Vibart, I tried to find out where Lady Frances had gone to from Lausanne. I discovered that there had been some secrecy. Perhaps Lady Frances had been trying to escape from someone? Certainly it was strange that her cases and boxes had not been clearly marked. She had reached Baden-Baden in Germany with her baggage after a very roundabout journey. I found this out from one of the local travel agents.

I therefore bought a ticket to Baden-Baden myself. Before I left Lausanne I sent Holmes a telegram. In it I gave him an account of everything I had done. In his reply he said that he was proud of me. I did not know whether he was joking or serious.

At Baden-Baden I was told that Lady Frances had stayed at the English Hotel for two weeks. At the hotel she had met a man called Doctor Schlessinger and his wife. Doctor Schlessinger was a minister of religion, and he and his wife had worked in South America, where he had fallen ill.

Lady Frances was a very religious woman, and for her it was an honour to know this holy man. She gladly helped Mrs Schlessinger to look after him. He used to sit all day in a chair bed outside the hotel with a lady on each side of him. He was preparing a religious map of Egypt, and was also writing a history book on the same subject.

Finally, when Doctor Schlessinger's health had improved a little, he and his wife had returned to London. Lady Frances had gone with them, and Doctor Schlessinger had paid her hotel bill. It was now three weeks since they had left.

I asked the manager about Marie Devine, Lady Frances's servant.

'She left a few days before the Schlessingers and Lady Frances went to England,' he answered. 'She was crying very noisily, and she said to me: "I don't want to be a maid ever again!"'

The manager went on, after a pause:

'You are not the first person who has asked for information about Lady Frances Carfax. About a week ago another Englishman came here to ask questions about her.'

'Did he tell you his name?' I asked.

'No. He was a very strange man!'

'Was he like a wild animal?' I was thinking of what Jules Vibart had told me in Lausanne.

'Yes! A wild animal,' said the manager. 'That is a perfect description of him. He was a large man with a brown face and a beard. He was like a rough, fierce farmer. I would not like to be his enemy!' Already the explanation of the mystery was becoming clear. This evil, cruel man was chasing the poor good lady from place to place. It was clear that she was terribly afraid of him: otherwise she would not have left Lausanne. And now he had followed her as far as Baden-Baden. Sooner or later he would catch up with her! Had he already caught up with her, perhaps? Was that the explanation of her disappearance?

I hoped that the good Doctor Schlessinger and his wife would be able to protect her from this wicked man.

In another telegram to Holmes I told him that I had discovered who was to blame in the matter. But instead of a reply I received this:

DESCRIBE DOCTOR SCHLESSINGER'S LEFT EAR, PLEASE.—HOLMES.

Holmes's little joke did not amuse me. In fact I was rather annoyed.

Next I went to Montpellier to see Marie Devine. She was very helpful. She had loved Lady Frances, she said, but recently Lady Frances had not been kind to her, and had even accused her of stealing.

I asked her about the cheque for fifty pounds.

'It was a present, sir,' she replied. 'I am going to be married soon.'

We then spoke of the strange Englishman.

'Ah, he is a bad man, sir!' said Marie. 'A fierce and terrible man. I myself have seen him seize Lady Frances by the wrist, and hurt her. It was by the lake at Lausanne, sir.'

Marie was sure that fear of this man was the cause of Lady Frances's sudden journeys. The poor lady was trying to escape from him.

'But look, sir!' Marie suddenly said. 'He's out there—the man himself!' She sounded frightened.

I looked out of the window. A very tall, dark man with a large black beard was walking slowly down the centre of the street. He was looking up at the numbers of the houses. It was clear that, like myself, he was looking for Marie. Angrily, I ran out of the house and spoke to him.

'You are an Englishman,' I said.

'I don't want to speak to you,' he said rudely.

'May I ask what your name is?'

'No, you may not!' he answered.

It was a difficult situation. The only way to deal with it was to use the direct method of shock.

'Where is Lady Frances Carfax?' I asked.

He looked at me in astonishment.

'What have you done with her?' I continued. 'Why have you been following her? I want an answer from you at once!'

The man gave a roar of anger and sprang at me. I am not a weak man, but he was as strong as a horse. He fought like a devil, and soon his hands were round my throat. I was nearly unconscious when a French workman rushed out of a little hotel and saved me. He struck the Englishman on the arm with his stick: this made him loosen his hold on my throat. The wild man then stood near us for a moment, unable to decide whether to attack me again. Finally he turned angrily away and went into the house where Marie lived. I began to thank the kind Frenchman beside me.

'Well, Watson,' he said, 'you haven't done very well this time! I think you had better come back with me to London by the night train.'

An hour later Sherlock Holmes, wearing his own clothes now, was with me in my private sitting room at the hotel.

'I did not expect to be able to get away from London,' he said, 'but here I am after all!'

'And how did you know that I would be here in Montpellier?' I asked him.

'It was easy to guess that Montpellier would be the next stage of your travels,' Holmes said. 'Since I arrived I have been sitting in that little hotel, waiting for you. And really, Watson, what a situation you have got into!'

'Perhaps you would not have done any better yourself,' I answered, annoyed.

'I have done better, Watson!'

Just then one of the hotel servants brought somebody's card in. Holmes looked at it.

'Ah, here is Mr Philip Green. Mr Green is staying at this hotel, and he may be able to help us to find out what has happened to Lady Frances Carfax.'

The man who came in was the same wild person who had attacked me in the street. He did not look pleased when he saw me.

'I received your letter, Mr Holmes,' he said. 'But why is this man here? In what way can he be connected with the affair?'

'This is my old friend Doctor Watson,' replied Holmes. 'He is helping us in this case.'

The stranger held out his large brown hand.

'I am very sorry about what happened, Doctor Watson,' he said. 'When you accused me of hurting Frances I lost all my self-control. I am in a terrible state, you know. I don't understand this affair at all. And, Mr Holmes, I don't even know who told you of my existence!'

'I have spoken to Miss Dobney, Lady Frances's old nurse,' Holmes said.

'Old Susan Dobney with the funny hat!' said Green. 'I remember her well.'

'And she remembers you. She knew you in the days before you went to South Africa.'

'Ah, I see that you know my whole story. I will not hide anything from you, Mr Holmes. I have loved Frances all my life. When I was a young man I did some bad things. And she was always so pure and good! So when somebody told her how I was living, she refused to speak to me again. And yet she loved me. She loved me well enough to remain unmarried for my sake. I stayed for many years in South Africa. I made money. When I came back to Europe I decided to find her—to try to persuade her to marry me. I knew that she was still unmarried. I found her in Lausanne. I think I almost persuaded her, but her will was strong. The next time I went to her hotel I was told that she had left the town. I tracked her as far as Baden-Baden, and then after a time I learnt that her servant was here. I am a rough sort of person; I have had a rough sort of life; and when Doctor Watson spoke to me as he did I became quite wild for a moment. But for God's sake, Mr Holmes, tell me what has happened to Lady Frances!'

'We will do our best to find that out,' said Holmes in a serious voice. 'What is your address in London, Mr Green?'

'You can send letters or messages to the Langham Hotel.'

'I think you ought to return to London,' Holmes said. 'I may need you there. I promise you that everything possible will be done for the safety of Lady Frances Carfax. Meanwhile, here is my card with my address on it. Now, Watson, while you are packing your bag I will send a telegram to Mrs Hudson. I will ask her to prepare a really good dinner for two hungry travellers at half-past seven tomorrow evening.'

We found a telegram for Holmes on our table the following evening.

'TORN, NOT REGULAR' was the message, which came from Baden-Baden.

'What does this mean?' I asked.

'It is the answer to a question about Doctor Schlessinger's ear. You may remember my telegram. You did not answer it.'

'I thought it was a joke.'

'Indeed? Well, I sent the same message to the manager of the English Hotel. This telegram is his answer. An important answer, Watson—very important!'

'What does it prove?'

'It proves, my dear Watson, that we are dealing with a clever and dangerous man. His name is Henry Peters, or "Holy" Peters, from Adelaide in Australia. He is one of the most evil men in the world, Watson. He is specially skilful at robbing lonely ladies by making use of their religious feelings. He is helped in this by a friend of his, a woman called Annie Fraser, who pretends to be his wife. I suspected that "Doctor Schlessinger" was really Mr Peters. The matter of the torn ear makes it quite certain.'

'And how did "Holy" Peters get his torn ear?' I asked.

'He was hurt in a fight at an Adelaide hotel,' Holmes replied. 'It happened about six years ago. Well, Watson, poor Lady Frances is at the mercy of a terrible pair. Perhaps she is already dead. Indeed that is quite probable. If she is still alive she is certainly a prisoner somewhere. She is unable to write letters to Miss Dobney or to anybody else. I believe that Lady Frances is here in London. In London it is easy to keep a person a prisoner in complete secrecy. After dinner I will go along to Scotland Yard and speak to our friend Lestrade.'

But the police did not manage to discover anything. The three people we wanted to find had completely disappeared. We advertised in the newspapers, but this failed. The police watched all 'Holy' Peters's old friends, but he did not visit them. And then, suddenly, after a week of hopeless waiting, something happened. A piece of old Spanish jewelry, made of silver and diamonds, had been received by a pawnbroker in Westminster Road. The man who brought it in was a large man who looked like a priest. The name and address he gave were clearly false. The pawnbroker had not noticed his ear, but we were sure that this was 'Holy' Peters.

Philip Green had already come to see us twice, anxiously hoping for news. The third time he came, we were able to tell him something at last.

'Peters has taken some of Lady Frances's jewelry to a pawnbroker's shop,' Holmes told him. 'We are going to catch him now.'

'But does this mean that any harm has come to Lady Frances?' asked Green.

Holmes gave him a very serious look.

'If Peters and Annie Fraser have kept her a prisoner until now, they cannot set her free without danger to themselves. I fear the worst, Mr Green.'

'Please give me something to do, Mr Holmes!' said Green.

'Do these people know you?' asked Holmes.

'No.'

'Peters will probably go back to the same pawnbroker's when he needs money again. I will give you a letter to the pawnbroker, and he will let you wait in the shop. If Peters comes in, you must follow him home. But you must not let him see you. And of course you must not attack him. Please do nothing without telling me.'

For two days Green brought us no news. Then, on the evening of the third day, he rushed into our sitting room, pale and trembling with excitement.

'We have caught him!' he cried. 'We have caught him!'

He was so excited that he could hardly speak. Holmes pushed him into an armchair.

'Please, Mr Green,' he said, 'tell us what has happened.'

'She came into the shop an hour ago. It was the wife this time, but the piece of jewelry she brought was just like the other. She is a tall, pale woman, with eyes like a rat's.'

'That is the woman,' said Holmes.

'She left the shop and I followed her. She walked up Kennington Road. Then she went into another shop. Mr Holmes, it was an undertaker's!'

I could see the shock on Holmes's face.

'Go on,' he said, forcing himself to speak calmly.

'I went in too,' said Green. 'She was talking to the undertaker inside. I heard her say: "It is late." The undertaker replied: "It has probably arrived by now. It took longer than an ordinary one would take." Then they both stopped and looked at me. So I asked the undertaker the way to Waterloo Station and then left the shop.'

'You have done well, Mr Green,' said Holmes. 'Excellently well! And what happened next?'

'The woman came out. I had hidden in the doorway of another shop. I think she was suspicious of me, because I saw her looking all round for me. Then she called a cab and got in. I managed to get another cab and so to follow hers. She got out at 36 Poultney Square, in Brixton. I drove past, left my cab at the corner of the square, and watched the house.'

'Did you see anyone?' asked Holmes.

'Only one window was lighted, on the ground floor. I could not see in. I was standing there, wondering what I ought to do next, when a van stopped outside the house. Two men got out, took something out of the van, and carried it up the steps to the front door. Mr Holmes, it was a coffin!'

'Ah!'

'For a moment I thought of rushing into the house. The door had been opened to let the men in with the coffin. It was the woman called Fraser who had opened it. But as I stood there she saw me. I think she recognized me. I saw her face change, and she immediately closed the door. I remembered my promise to you, and here I am.'

'You have done excellent work,' said Holmes. He wrote a few words on a half-sheet of paper. 'A search warrant is necessary now. Please take this note to Mr Lestrade at Scotland Yard. He will arrange everything. There may be some difficulty, but the affair of the jewelry is good enough proof of some crime, I think.'

'Meanwhile Frances may be murdered!' said Green. That coffin must surely be for her.'

'We will do everything that can be done, Mr Green. We are not going to waste any time. Now, Watson,' he said, as Green hurried away, 'to me the situation seems so terrible that we must act now, without the help of the law. You and I are the unofficial police of London. We must go to Poultney Square immediately.'

When we were in the cab, going at high speed over Westminster Bridge. Holmes gave me his views on 'Holy' Peters's plans.

'These wicked people have persuaded this poor lady to dismiss her faithful servant and to come to London with them. If she has written any letters they have been stolen and destroyed. The criminals have rented a furnished house. They have made her a prisoner, and now they have got possession of her jewelry. That jewelry was the original reason for their interest in Lady Frances. Already they have begun to exchange it for money: they do not know that she has friends who are tracking them. They cannot set her free, and they cannot keep her a prisoner for ever. So they must kill her.'

'That seems very clear,' I said.

'And the arrival of the coffin proves, I fear, that she is already dead. Oh, Watson, there is the undertaker's, I think. Stop, driver! Will you go in, Watson? Ask the undertaker when the Poultney Square funeral is to be.'

The man in the shop told me that it was arranged for eight o'clock the next morning.

When I told this to Holmes he looked rather unhappy.

'I can't understand it at all,' he said. 'Murderers usually bury the body in a hole in the back garden. These murderers seem to fear nothing! We must go forward and attack, Watson. Are you armed?'

'I have my stick, at least.'

'Well, well, we shall be strong enough. We simply cannot afford to wait for the police or the search warrant. Thank you, driver; you can go.'

Holmes rang the bell of a great dark house in the centre of Poultney Square. The door was opened immediately by a tall woman.

'Well, what do you want?' she said rudely, looking at us in the darkness.

'I want to speak to Doctor Schlessinger,' said Holmes.

'There is no Doctor Schlessinger here,' she answered. Then she tried to close the door, but Holmes had put his foot in the way.

'Well, I want to see the man who lives here. I don't care what he calls himself,' he said firmly.

She hesitated. Then she pulled the door wide open.

'Well, come in!' she said. 'My husband is not afraid to see any man in the world.' She closed the door behind us, and took us into a sitting room on the right of the hall. Before she left us she turned up the gas light in the room. 'Mr Peters will be with you in a moment,' she said.

Almost at once a man came into the dusty sitting room. He made no noise as he walked. 'Holy' Peters was a big man with a large fat red face, who would have looked pleasant if he had not had such a cruel mouth. And he had no hair on his head.

'You have surely made a mistake, gentlemen,' he said in an oily voice. 'I think you have come to the wrong house. If you tried further down the street, perhaps ...'

'You are wasting your breath,' said my friend. 'My name is Sherlock Holmes. You are Henry Peters, of Adelaide, formerly Doctor Schlessinger of Baden-Baden and South America.'

'I am not afraid, Mr Holmes. What is your business in my house?'

'I want to know what you have done with Lady Frances Carfax, who came away with you from Baden-Baden.'

'I would be very glad if you could tell me where she is,' Peters answered calmly. 'She borrowed nearly a hundred pounds from me, and has not paid me. She only gave me some almost valueless jewelry, instead of the money. I paid her hotel bill at Baden-Baden and I bought her a ticket from there to London. We lost her at Victoria Station. If you can find her, Mr Holmes, I shall be very grateful to you.'

'I am going to find her,' said Sherlock Holmes. 'I am going to search this house until I do find her.'

'And where is your search warrant?' Peters asked.

Holmes took out a gun from his pocket.

'So you are a common robber!' said Peters.

'That is right. And my friend Watson is also a dangerous man. We are now going to search your house together.'

'Holy' Peters opened the door.

'Fetch a policeman, Annie!' he called out.

We heard the woman run across the hall and go out through the front door.

'We have very little time, Watson,' said Holmes. 'If you try to stop us, Peters, you will certainly get hurt. Where is the coffin that was brought into this house?'

'Why do you want to look at the coffin?' Peters asked. 'It is in use. There is a body in it.'

'I must see that body.'

'I refuse to show it to you!'

But Holmes had pushed him out of the way. We went together into the next room. It was the dining room of the house. The gas light was burning low, but we saw the coffin at once. It was on the table. Holmes turned up the gas and opened the coffin. Deep down at the bottom there was the body of a small, very thin, and very, very old woman. It was certainly not Lady Frances Carfax.

'Thank God!' whispered Holmes in relief. 'It is someone else.'

'You have made a bad mistake, haven't you, Mr Holmes?' said Peters, who had followed us into the room.

'Who is this dead woman?' asked Holmes.

'You have no right to ask. But I will tell you. She is my wife's old nurse, Rose Spender. We found her in Brixton Old People's Hospital, and brought her here. We called in Doctor Horsom. Yes, please write down his address in your notebook, Mr Holmes! It is 13 Firbank Street. He looked after her very carefully, but on the third day she died. She was ninety years old. The funeral is to be at eight o'clock tomorrow morning. The undertaker is Mr Stimson, of Kennington Road.'

'I am going to search your house,' said Holmes.

'I don't think you are,' said Peters, who had heard policemen in the hall. 'Come in here, please!' he called out to them. 'These men are in my house without permission. Help me to put them out.'

Holmes took out one of his cards.

'This is my name and address,' he said to the policemen, 'and this gentleman is my friend Doctor Watson.'

'We know you very well, sir,' said one of the policemen, 'but you can't stay here without a search warrant.'

'Of course not. I realize that,' said Holmes.

'Take him to the police station!' cried Peters.

'We know where to find this gentleman if he is wanted,' said the policeman in reply; 'but you must go now, Mr Holmes. That is the law.'

We went next to Brixton Old People's Hospital. There we were told that two kind people had claimed a dying woman as a former servant of theirs, and had received permission to take her away with them.

We then went to see Doctor Horsom, who had looked after the old woman before she died.

'I was with her when she died,' he told us. 'Old age was the cause of death. There was nothing suspicious about the death at all.'

'Did you notice anything suspicious in the house?' asked Holmes.

'No. There was only one strange thing. Mr and Mrs Peters had no servants. That was unusual for people of their class.'

The doctor was unable to tell us anything more.

Finally we went to Scotland Yard. We were told that the search warrant would probably not be signed until next morning at about nine.

Sherlock Holmes did not go to bed that night. He smoked for hours, and wandered about the house. At twenty past seven in the morning he rushed into my room.

'The funeral is at eight, Watson! It is seven-twenty now. And my thoughts on the Carfax mystery have only just become clear! We must hurry. If we are too late ...'

In less than five minutes we were in a fast cab. However, it was twenty-five to eight as we went over Westminster Bridge, and ten past eight when we arrived in Poultney Square. But the undertaker's men were also a little late, and we were in time to see them carrying the coffin out of the house. Holmes rushed forward.

'Take that coffin back!' he cried, putting his hand on the chest of the first man to push him back into the hall. 'Take it back at once!'

Then Peters appeared behind the coffin. His red face was very angry.

'Mr Holmes, you have no right to give orders here!' he shouted. 'Show me your search warrant!'

'The search warrant is on its way,' Holmes answered. 'This coffin must remain in the house until it comes.'

The firmness in Holmes's voice had its effect on the undertaker's men. Peters had suddenly disappeared, and they obeyed these new orders.

They put the coffin back on the dining-room table. In less than a minute we had managed to open it. As we did so, a strong smell of chloroform came out. There was a body in the coffin. The head was wrapped in bandages, which were still wet with the chloroform. Holmes unfastened them and we saw the face of a handsome woman. He immediately lifted the body to a sitting position.

'Is she alive, Watson? Surely we are not too late!'

For half an hour it seemed that we were indeed too late. But in the end our efforts to bring the lady back to life were successful. Her breath returned; her eyes began to open. A cab had just arrived, and Holmes went to the window and looked out.

'Here is Lestrade with his search warrant,' he said. 'But "Holy" Peters and Annie Fraser have already escaped. —And here is a man who has a better right to nurse this lady than we have! Good morning, Mr Green. I think Lady Frances should be taken away from here as soon as possible. Meanwhile, the funeral may continue. The poor old woman at the bottom of that coffin can now be buried—alone.'

'I have been very stupid, Watson,' said Holmes that evening.

'I knew that I had heard something important, but I did not know what it was until seven o'clock this morning. It was something the undertaker said to Annie Fraser. Our friend Green heard him say it. "It took longer," the man said, "than an ordinary one would take." Of course he was talking about the coffin. It was an unusual one. Its measurements were not the ordinary ones. It had been made specially—but why? Why? Then I suddenly remembered the deep sides, and the little thin body at the bottom. Why had such a large coffin been made for such a small body?

'There could be only one explanation. It was to leave room for another body: the body of Lady Frances Carfax.'