“What is it, then—a fire?”


“No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable

state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in the

sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this hour

of the morning, and knock sleepy people up out of their beds, I presume that it

is something very pressing which they have to communicate. Should it prove to

be an interesting case, you would, I am sure, wish to follow it from the

outset. I thought, at any rate, that I should call you and give you the

chance.”


“My dear fellow, I would not miss it for anything.”


I had no keener pleasure than in following Holmes in his professional

investigations, and in admiring the rapid deductions, as swift as intuitions,

and yet always founded on a logical basis with which he unravelled the problems

which were submitted to him. I rapidly threw on my clothes and was ready in a

few minutes to accompany my friend down to the sitting-room. A lady dressed in

black and heavily veiled, who had been sitting in the window, rose as we

entered.


“Good-morning, madam,” said Holmes cheerily. “My name is

Sherlock Holmes. This is my intimate friend and associate, Dr. Watson, before

whom you can speak as freely as before myself. Ha! I am glad to see that Mrs.

Hudson has had the good sense to light the fire. Pray draw up to it, and I

shall order you a cup of hot coffee, for I observe that you are

shivering.”


“It is not cold which makes me shiver,” said the woman in a low

voice, changing her seat as requested.


“What, then?”


“It is fear, Mr. Holmes. It is terror.” She raised her veil as she

spoke, and we could see that she was indeed in a pitiable state of agitation,

her face all drawn and grey, with restless frightened eyes, like those of some

hunted animal. Her features and figure were those of a woman of thirty, but her