“I know already that Fitzroy is dead，” she said. “Do not be afraidto tell me the particulars.”
The Case Book of Sherlock Holmes 1369
“This other gentleman of yours let us know the news，” explainedthe father.
“There is no reason why my sister should be brought into thematter，” growled the younger man.
The sister turned a sharp， fierce look upon him. “This is mybusiness， William. Kindly leave me to manage it in my own way.
By all accounts there has been a crime committed. If I can help toshow who did it， it is the least I can do for him who is gone.”
She listened to a short account from my companion， with acomposed concentration which showed me that she possessedstrong character as well as great beauty. Maud Bellamy will alwaysremain in my memory as a most complete and remarkable woman.
It seems that she already knew me by sight， for she turned to meat the end.
“Bring them to justice， Mr. Holmes. You have my sympathy andmy help， whoever they may be.” It seemed to me that she glanceddefiantly at her father and brother as she spoke.
“Thank you，” said I. “I value a woman’s instinct in such matters.
You use the word ‘they.’ You think that more than one wasconcerned？”
“I knew Mr. McPherson well enough to be aware that he was abrave and a strong man. No single person could ever have inflictedsuch an outrage upon him.”
“Might I have one word with you alone？”
“I tell you， Maud， not to mix yourself up in the matter，” criedher father angrily.
She looked at me helplessly. “What can I do？”
“The whole world will know the facts presently， so there can beno harm if I discuss them here，” said I. “I should have preferredprivacy， but if your father will not allow it he must share thedeliberations.” Then I spoke of the note which had been found inthe dead man’s pocket. “It is sure to be produced at the inquest.
May I ask you to throw any light upon it that you can？”
“I see no reason for mystery，” she answered. “We were engagedto be married， and we only kept it secret because Fitzroy’s uncle，who is very old and said to be dying， might have disinherited himif he had married against his wish. There was no other reason.”
“You could have told us，” growled Mr. Bellamy.
“So I would， father， if you had ever shown sympathy.”
“I object to my girl picking up with men outside her ownstation.”
“It was your prejudice against him which prevented us fromtelling you. As to this appointment” —she fumbled in her dressand produced a crumpled note— “it was in answer to this.”
The Complete Sherlock Holmes
DEAREST [ran the message]：
The old place on the beach just after sunset on Tuesday. It is theonly time I can get away.
F.M.
“Tuesday was to-day， and I had meant to meet him to-night.”
I turned over the paper. “This never came by post. How did youget it？”
“I would rather not answer that question. It has really nothingto do with the matter which you are investigating. But anythingwhich bears upon that I will most freely answer.”
She was as good as her word， but there was nothing which washelpful in our investigation. She had no reason to think that herfiancé had any hidden enemy， but she admitted that she had hadseveral warm admirers.
“May I ask if Mr. Ian Murdoch was one of them？”
She blushed and seemed confused.
“There was a time when I thought he was. But that was allchanged when he understood the relations between Fitzroy andmyself.”
Again the shadow round this strange man seemed to me tobe taking more definite shape. His record must be examined.
His rooms must be privately searched. Stackhurst was a willingcollaborator， for in his mind also suspicions were forming. Wereturned from our visit to The Haven with the hope that one freeend of this tangled skein was already in our hands.
A week passed. The inquest had thrown no light upon thematter and had been adjourned for further evidence. Stackhursthad made discreet inquiry about his subordinate， and therehad been a superficial search of his room， but without result.
Personally， I had gone over the whole ground again， bothphysically and mentally， but with no new conclusions. In all mychronicles the reader will find no case which brought me socompletely to the limit of my powers. Even my imagination couldconceive no solution to the mystery. And then there came theincident of the dog.
It was my old housekeeper who heard of it first by that strangewireless by which such people collect the news of the countryside.
“Sad story this， sir， about Mr. McPherson’s dog，” said she oneevening.
I do not encourage such conversations， but the words arrestedmy attention.
“What of Mr. McPherson’s dog？”
“Dead， sir. Died of grief for its master.”
“Who told you this？”
The Case Book of Sherlock Holmes 1371
“Why， sir， everyone is talking of it. It took on terrible， and haseaten nothing for a week. Then to-day two of the young gentlemenfrom The Gables found it dead—down on the beach， sir， at thevery place where its master met his end.”
“At the very place.” The words stood out clear in my memory.
Some dim perception that the matter was vital rose in my mind.
That the dog should die was after the beautiful， faithful natureof dogs. But “in the very place”！ Why should this lonely beachbe fatal to it？ Was it possible that it also had been sacrificed tosome revengeful feud？ Was it possible —？ Yes， the perception wasdim， but already something was building up in my mind. In a fewminutes I was on my way to The Gables， where I found Stackhurstin his study. At my request he sent for Sudbury and Blount， thetwo students who had found the dog.
“Yes， it lay on the very edge of the pool，” said one of them. “Itmust have followed the trail of its dead master.”
I saw the faithful little creature， an Airedale terrier， laid outupon the mat in the hall. The body was stiff and rigid， the eyesprojecting， and the limbs contorted. There was agony in every lineof it.
