“Lady St. Simon said something about ‘jumping a claim.’ She

was accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she meant.”


“American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your wife do

when she finished speaking to her maid?”


“She walked into the breakfast-room.”


“On your arm?”


“No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that. Then,

after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose hurriedly, muttered some

words of apology, and left the room. She never came back.”


“But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to her

room, covered her bride’s dress with a long ulster, put on a bonnet, and

went out.”


“Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in company

with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who had already made a

disturbance at Mr. Doran’s house that morning.”


“Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady, and your

relations to her.”


Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows. “We have

been on a friendly footing for some years—I may say on a very

friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have not treated her

ungenerously, and she had no just cause of complaint against me, but you know

what women are, Mr. Holmes. Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly

hot-headed and devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful letters when she

heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell the truth, the reason why I

had the marriage celebrated so quietly was that I feared lest there might be a

scandal in the church. She came to Mr. Doran’s door just after we

returned, and she endeavoured to push her way in, uttering very abusive

expressions towards my wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen the

possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police fellows there in

private clothes, who soon pushed her out again. She was quiet when she saw that