grounds for hope as long as he was dissatisfied with the accepted explanation.

He hardly spoke a word the whole way out to the southern suburb, but sat with

his chin upon his breast and his hat drawn over his eyes, sunk in the deepest

thought. Our client appeared to have taken fresh heart at the little glimpse of

hope which had been presented to him, and he even broke into a desultory chat

with me over his business affairs. A short railway journey and a shorter walk

brought us to Fairbank, the modest residence of the great financier.


Fairbank was a good-sized square house of white stone, standing back a little

from the road. A double carriage-sweep, with a snow-clad lawn, stretched down

in front to two large iron gates which closed the entrance. On the right side

was a small wooden thicket, which led into a narrow path between two neat

hedges stretching from the road to the kitchen door, and forming the

tradesmen’s entrance. On the left ran a lane which led to the stables,

and was not itself within the grounds at all, being a public, though little

used, thoroughfare. Holmes left us standing at the door and walked slowly all

round the house, across the front, down the tradesmen’s path, and so

round by the garden behind into the stable lane. So long was he that Mr. Holder

and I went into the dining-room and waited by the fire until he should return.

We were sitting there in silence when the door opened and a young lady came in.

She was rather above the middle height, slim, with dark hair and eyes, which

seemed the darker against the absolute pallor of her skin. I do not think that

I have ever seen such deadly paleness in a woman’s face. Her lips, too,

were bloodless, but her eyes were flushed with crying. As she swept silently

into the room she impressed me with a greater sense of grief than the banker

had done in the morning, and it was the more striking in her as she was

evidently a woman of strong character, with immense capacity for