be degenerating into an agency for recovering lost lead pencils and
giving advice to young ladies from boarding-schools. I think that I
have touched bottom at last, however. This note I had this morning
marks my zero-point, I fancy. Read it! He tossed a crumpled letter
across to me.
It was dated from Montague Place upon the preceding evening, and ran
thus:
DEAR MR. HOLMES, I am very anxious to consult you as to whether I
should or should not accept a situation which has been offered to
me as governess. I shall call at half-past ten to-morrow if I do
not inconvenience you. Yours faithfully,
VIOLET HUNTER.
Do you know the young lady? I asked.
Not I.
It is half-past ten now.
Yes, and I have no doubt that is her ring.
It may turn out to be of more interest than you think. You remember
that the affair of the blue carbuncle, which appeared to be a mere whim
at first, developed into a serious investigation. It may be so in this
case, also.
Well, let us hope so. But our doubts will very soon be solved, for
here, unless I am much mistaken, is the person in question.
As he spoke the door opened and a young lady entered the room. She was
plainly but neatly dressed, with a bright, quick face, freckled like a
plover s egg, and with the brisk manner of a woman who has had her own
way to make in the world.
You will excuse my troubling you, I am sure, said she, as my
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