there was no good in making a row.”


“Did your wife hear all this?”


“No, thank goodness, she did not.”


“And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?”


“Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as so

serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid some terrible

trap for her.”


“Well, it is a possible supposition.”


“You think so, too?”


“I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon this as

likely?”


“I do not think Flora would hurt a fly.”


“Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray what is

your own theory as to what took place?”


“Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I have given

you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may say that it has occurred to

me as possible that the excitement of this affair, the consciousness that she

had made so immense a social stride, had the effect of causing some little

nervous disturbance in my wife.”


“In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?”


“Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back—I will

not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to without

success—I can hardly explain it in any other fashion.”


“Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis,” said

Holmes, smiling. “And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have nearly all

my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the breakfast-table so that you

could see out of the window?”


“We could see the other side of the road and the Park.”


“Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer. I shall

communicate with you.”


“Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem,” said our

client, rising.


“I have solved it.”


“Eh? What was that?”


“I say that I have solved it.”


“Where, then, is my wife?”


“That is a detail which I shall speedily supply.”