“Well we have been married now for a year, and very happy wehave been. But about a month ago, at the end of June, I saw for thefirst time signs of trouble. One day my wife received a letter fromAmerica. I saw the American stamp. She turned deadly white,read the letter, and threw it into the fire. She made no allusion toafterwards, and I made none, for a promise is a promise, but shehas never known an easy hour from that moment. There is alwayslook of fear upon her face—a look as if she were waiting andexpecting. She would do better to trust me. She would find that Iwas her best friend. But until she speaks, I can say nothing. Mindyou, she is a truthful woman, Mr. Holmes, and whatever troublethere may have been in her past life it has been no fault of hers. Iam only a simple Norfolk squire, but there is not a man in Englandwho ranks his family honour more highly than I do. She knows itwell, and she knew it well before she married me. She would neverbring any stain upon it—of that I am sure.
“Well, now I come to the queer part of my story. About a weekago—it was the Tuesday of last week—I found on one of thewindow-sills a number of absurd little dancing figures like theseupon the paper. They were scrawled with chalk. I thought thatwas the stable-boy who had drawn them, but the lad swore heknew nothing about it. Anyhow, they had come there during thenight. I had them washed out, and I only mentioned the matter tomy wife afterwards. To my surprise, she took it very seriously, andbegged me if any more came to let her see them. None did comefor a week, and then yesterday morning I found this paper lyingon the sundial in the garden. I showed it to Elsie, and down shedropped in a dead faint. Since then she has looked like a womanin a dream, half dazed, and with terror always lurking in her eyes.
was then that I wrote and sent the paper to you, Mr. Holmes.
was not a thing that I could take to the police, for they wouldhave laughed at me, but you will tell me what to do. I am not arich man, but if there is any danger threatening my little woman, Iwould spend my last copper to shield her.”
He was a fine creature, this man of the old English soil—simple,straight, and gentle, with his great, earnest blue eyes and broad,comely face. His love for his wife and his trust in her shone inhis features. Holmes had listened to his story with the utmostattention, and now he sat for some time in silent thought.
“Don’t you think, Mr. Cubitt,” said he, at last, “that your bestThe Return of Sherlock Holmes 891
plan would be to make a direct appeal to your wife, and to ask herto share her secret with you?”
Hilton Cubitt shook his massive head.
“A promise is a promise, Mr. Holmes. If Elsie wished to tell meshe would. If not, it is not for me to force her confidence. But Iam justified in taking my own line—and I will.”
“Then I will help you with all my heart. In the first place, haveyou heard of any strangers being seen in your neighbourhood?”
“No.”
“I presume that it is a very quiet place. Any fresh face wouldcause comment?”
“In the immediate neighbourhood, yes. But we have severalsmall watering-places not very far away. And the farmers take inlodgers.”
“These hieroglyphics have evidently a meaning. If it is a purelyarbitrary one, it may be impossible for us to solve it. If, on theother hand, it is systematic, I have no doubt that we shall getto the bottom of it. But this particular sample is so short thatI can do nothing, and the facts which you have brought me areso indefinite that we have no basis for an investigation. I wouldsuggest that you return to Norfolk, that you keep a keen lookout,and that you take an exact copy of any fresh dancing men whichmay appear. It is a thousand pities that we have not a reproductionof those which were done in chalk upon the window-sill. Makea discreet inquiry also as to any strangers in the neighbourhood.
When you have collected some fresh evidence, come to me again.
That is the best advice which I can give you, Mr. Hilton Cubitt. Ifthere are any pressing fresh developments, I shall be always readyto run down and see you in your Norfolk home.”
The interview left Sherlock Holmes very thoughtful, and severaltimes in the next few days I saw him take his slip of paper fromhis notebook and look long and earnestly at the curious figuresinscribed upon it. He made no allusion to the affair, however, untilone afternoon a fortnight or so later. I was going out when hecalled me back.
“You had better stay here, Watson.”
“Why?”
“Because I had a wire from Hilton Cubitt this morning. Youremember Hilton Cubitt, of the dancing men? He was to reachLiverpool Street at one-twenty. He may be here at any moment. Igather from his wire that there have been some new incidents ofimportance.”
We had not long to wait, for our Norfolk squire came straightfrom the station as fast as a hansom could bring him. He waslooking worried and depressed, with tired eyes and a lined forehead.
892 The Complete Sherlock Holmes
“It’s getting on my nerves, this business, Mr. Holmes,” said he,as he sank, like a wearied man, into an armchair. “It’s bad enoughto feel that you are surrounded by unseen, unknown folk, whohave some kind of design upon you, but when, in addition tothat, you know that it is just killing your wife by inches, then itbecomes as much as flesh and blood can endure. She’s wearingaway under it—just wearing away before my eyes.”
“Has she said anything yet?”
“No, Mr. Holmes, she has not. And yet there have been timeswhen the poor girl has wanted to speak, and yet could not quitebring herself to take the plunge. I have tried to help her, but Idaresay I did it clumsily, and scared her from it. She has spokenabout my old family, and our reputation in the county, and ourpride in our unsullied honour, and I always felt it was leading tothe point, but somehow it turned off before we got there.”
“But you have found out something for yourself?”
“A good deal, Mr. Holmes. I have several fresh dancing-menpictures for you to examine, and, what is more important, I haveseen the fellow.”
“What, the man who draws them?”
