Mr. Holmes, and the little things that he would think of.”


“It was most suggestive,” said Holmes. “It has long been an

axiom of mine that the little things are infinitely the most important. Can you

remember any other little things about Mr. Hosmer Angel?”


“He was a very shy man, Mr. Holmes. He would rather walk with me in the

evening than in the daylight, for he said that he hated to be conspicuous. Very

retiring and gentlemanly he was. Even his voice was gentle. He’d had the

quinsy and swollen glands when he was young, he told me, and it had left him

with a weak throat, and a hesitating, whispering fashion of speech. He was

always well dressed, very neat and plain, but his eyes were weak, just as mine

are, and he wore tinted glasses against the glare.”


“Well, and what happened when Mr. Windibank, your stepfather, returned to

France?”


“Mr. Hosmer Angel came to the house again and proposed that we should

marry before father came back. He was in dreadful earnest and made me swear,

with my hands on the Testament, that whatever happened I would always be true

to him. Mother said he was quite right to make me swear, and that it was a sign

of his passion. Mother was all in his favour from the first and was even fonder

of him than I was. Then, when they talked of marrying within the week, I began

to ask about father; but they both said never to mind about father, but just to

tell him afterwards, and mother said she would make it all right with him. I

didn’t quite like that, Mr. Holmes. It seemed funny that I should ask his

leave, as he was only a few years older than me; but I didn’t want to do

anything on the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux, where the company has

its French offices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the

wedding.”


“It missed him, then?”


“Yes, sir; for he had started to England just before it arrived.”


“Ha! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for the