“Very well. It may, however, have been written on Monday and only posted

to-day.”


“That is possible.”


“If so, much may have happened between.”


“Oh, you must not discourage me, Mr. Holmes. I know that all is well with

him. There is so keen a sympathy between us that I should know if evil came

upon him. On the very day that I saw him last he cut himself in the bedroom,

and yet I in the dining-room rushed upstairs instantly with the utmost

certainty that something had happened. Do you think that I would respond to

such a trifle and yet be ignorant of his death?”


“I have seen too much not to know that the impression of a woman may be

more valuable than the conclusion of an analytical reasoner. And in this letter

you certainly have a very strong piece of evidence to corroborate your view.

But if your husband is alive and able to write letters, why should he remain

away from you?”


“I cannot imagine. It is unthinkable.”


“And on Monday he made no remarks before leaving you?”


“No.”


“And you were surprised to see him in Swandam Lane?”


“Very much so.”


“Was the window open?”


“Yes.”


“Then he might have called to you?”


“He might.”


“He only, as I understand, gave an inarticulate cry?”


“Yes.”


“A call for help, you thought?”


“Yes. He waved his hands.”


“But it might have been a cry of surprise. Astonishment at the unexpected

sight of you might cause him to throw up his hands?”


“It is possible.”


“And you thought he was pulled back?”


“He disappeared so suddenly.”


“He might have leaped back. You did not see anyone else in the

room?”


“No, but this horrible man confessed to having been there, and the Lascar

was at the foot of the stairs.”


“Quite so. Your husband, as far as you could see, had his ordinary

clothes on?”


“But without his collar or tie. I distinctly saw his bare throat.”


“Had he ever spoken of Swandam Lane?”


“Never.”