had heard it.’


“‘No, I have not. It must be those wretched gipsies in the

plantation.’


“‘Very likely. And yet if it were on the lawn, I wonder that

you did not hear it also.’


“‘Ah, but I sleep more heavily than you.’


“‘Well, it is of no great consequence, at any rate.’

She smiled back at me, closed my door, and a few moments later I heard her key

turn in the lock.”


“Indeed,” said Holmes. “Was it your custom always to lock

yourselves in at night?”


“Always.”


“And why?”


“I think that I mentioned to you that the Doctor kept a cheetah and a

baboon. We had no feeling of security unless our doors were locked.”


“Quite so. Pray proceed with your statement.”


“I could not sleep that night. A vague feeling of impending misfortune

impressed me. My sister and I, you will recollect, were twins, and you know how

subtle are the links which bind two souls which are so closely allied. It was a

wild night. The wind was howling outside, and the rain was beating and

splashing against the windows. Suddenly, amid all the hubbub of the gale, there

burst forth the wild scream of a terrified woman. I knew that it was my

sister’s voice. I sprang from my bed, wrapped a shawl round me, and

rushed into the corridor. As I opened my door I seemed to hear a low whistle,

such as my sister described, and a few moments later a clanging sound, as if a

mass of metal had fallen. As I ran down the passage, my sister’s door was

unlocked, and revolved slowly upon its hinges. I stared at it horror-stricken,

not knowing what was about to issue from it. By the light of the corridor-lamp

I saw my sister appear at the opening, her face blanched with terror, her hands

groping for help, her whole figure swaying to and fro like that of a drunkard.

I ran to her and threw my arms round her, but at that moment her knees seemed

to give way and she fell to the ground. She writhed as one who is in terrible