“We shall be at the Copper Beeches by seven o’clock, my friend and

I. The Rucastles will be gone by that time, and Toller will, we hope, be

incapable. There only remains Mrs. Toller, who might give the alarm. If you

could send her into the cellar on some errand, and then turn the key upon her,

you would facilitate matters immensely.”


“I will do it.”


“Excellent! We shall then look thoroughly into the affair. Of course

there is only one feasible explanation. You have been brought there to

personate someone, and the real person is imprisoned in this chamber. That is

obvious. As to who this prisoner is, I have no doubt that it is the daughter,

Miss Alice Rucastle, if I remember right, who was said to have gone to America.

You were chosen, doubtless, as resembling her in height, figure, and the colour

of your hair. Hers had been cut off, very possibly in some illness through

which she has passed, and so, of course, yours had to be sacrificed also. By a

curious chance you came upon her tresses. The man in the road was undoubtedly

some friend of hers—possibly her fiancé—and no doubt, as you

wore the girl’s dress and were so like her, he was convinced from your

laughter, whenever he saw you, and afterwards from your gesture, that Miss

Rucastle was perfectly happy, and that she no longer desired his attentions.

The dog is let loose at night to prevent him from endeavouring to communicate

with her. So much is fairly clear. The most serious point in the case is the

disposition of the child.”


“What on earth has that to do with it?” I ejaculated.


“My dear Watson, you as a medical man are continually gaining light as to

the tendencies of a child by the study of the parents. Don’t you see that

the converse is equally valid. I have frequently gained my first real insight

into the character of parents by studying their children. This child’s

disposition is abnormally cruel, merely for cruelty’s sake, and whether