her sister had met with her fate. It was a homely little room, with a low

ceiling and a gaping fireplace, after the fashion of old country-houses. A

brown chest of drawers stood in one corner, a narrow white-counterpaned bed in

another, and a dressing-table on the left-hand side of the window. These

articles, with two small wicker-work chairs, made up all the furniture in the

room save for a square of Wilton carpet in the centre. The boards round and the

panelling of the walls were of brown, worm-eaten oak, so old and discoloured

that it may have dated from the original building of the house. Holmes drew one

of the chairs into a corner and sat silent, while his eyes travelled round and

round and up and down, taking in every detail of the apartment.


“Where does that bell communicate with?” he asked at last pointing

to a thick bell-rope which hung down beside the bed, the tassel actually lying

upon the pillow.


“It goes to the housekeeper’s room.”


“It looks newer than the other things?”


“Yes, it was only put there a couple of years ago.”


“Your sister asked for it, I suppose?”


“No, I never heard of her using it. We used always to get what we wanted

for ourselves.”


“Indeed, it seemed unnecessary to put so nice a bell-pull there. You will

excuse me for a few minutes while I satisfy myself as to this floor.” He

threw himself down upon his face with his lens in his hand and crawled swiftly

backward and forward, examining minutely the cracks between the boards. Then he

did the same with the wood-work with which the chamber was panelled. Finally he

walked over to the bed and spent some time in staring at it and in running his

eye up and down the wall. Finally he took the bell-rope in his hand and gave it

a brisk tug.


“Why, it’s a dummy,” said he.


“Won’t it ring?”


“No, it is not even attached to a wire. This is very interesting. You can

see now that it is fastened to a hook just above where the little opening for