among the trees? That is The Cedars, and beside that lamp sits a woman
whose anxious ears have already, I have little doubt, caught the clink
of our horse s feet.
But why are you not conducting the case from Baker Street? I asked.
Because there are many inquiries which must be made out here. Mrs. St.
Clair has most kindly put two rooms at my disposal, and you may rest
assured that she will have nothing but a welcome for my friend and
colleague. I hate to meet her, Watson, when I have no news of her
husband. Here we are. Whoa, there, whoa!
We had pulled up in front of a large villa which stood within its own
grounds. A stable-boy had run out to the horse s head, and springing
down, I followed Holmes up the small, winding gravel-drive which led to
the house. As we approached, the door flew open, and a little blonde
woman stood in the opening, clad in some sort of light mousseline de
soie, with a touch of fluffy pink chiffon at her neck and wrists. She
stood with her figure outlined against the flood of light, one hand
upon the door, one half-raised in her eagerness, her body slightly
bent, her head and face protruded, with eager eyes and parted lips, a
standing question.
Well? she cried, well? And then, seeing that there were two of us,
she gave a cry of hope which sank into a groan as she saw that my
companion shook his head and shrugged his shoulders.
No good news?
None.
No bad?
No.
Thank God for that. But come in. You must be weary, for you have had a
long day.
This is my friend, Dr. Watson. He has been of most vital use to me in
several of my cases, and a lucky chance has made it possible for me to
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