The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1905-08-09

business which was acted in my house last
night?'
rooms. tomorrow morning between 8 and 10 I
shall be happy to do what 1 can to make it |
clearer I understand that you give me carte |
blanche to act for you, provided only that 1
get back the gems, and that you place limit |
on the sum 1 may draw
81 would give my fortune to have them
back"
Every good. I shall look into the matter be-
tween this and then. Goodbye; it is just pos
sible that 1 may have to come over here again
before evening""
1t was obvious to that my companion s
mind was now made up about the case, altho
what his conclusions were was more than I
could dimly imagine. Several times dur
ing homeward journey 1 endeavored to
sound him upon the point, but ne always gided
away to some other topic, until at last gave
it over in despair 1t was not yet when we
found ourselves in our room once more. He
hurried to his chamber, and was down again in
few minutes dressed as common loafer.
With his collar turned up, his shiny seedy coat
his red cravat, and his worn boots, he was
perfect sample of the class.
II think that this should do" said he,
g1ancing into the glass above the fireplace II
only wish that you could come with me, Wat
son, but fear that 1t won't do. I may be on
the trail in this matter, or I may be following
a will-of-the-wisp, but l shall soon know which
it is. 1 hope that I may be back in few
hours He cut a slice of beef from the joint
upon the sideboard, sandwiched it between two
rounds of bread, and, thrusting this rude meal
into his pocket he started on upon his expedl-
ton. -...--
I had just finished my tea when he returned.
evidently in excellent spirits, swinging an old
e1asticsided boot in his hand. BE chucked 1t
down into corner and helped himself to
cup of tea.
II only looked in as passed." said he. 81
am going right on"
"Where top
"Oh, to the other side of the West End. 1t
| NAV ho time before 7 get back. Don t
wait I'D for me in case l should be late"
Chow are you getting on?'
sob, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have
been out to Streatham since, 1 you last,
but did not call at the house 1t is very
sweet little problem, and I would not have
missed it for good deal. However, 1 must not
sit gossiping here, but must get these dis
reputable clothes off and return to my highly
respectable SELF
1 could see by his manner that he had
stronger reasons for satisfaction than his words
alone would imply His eyes twinkled, and
there was even a touch Of color upon his sal
low cheeks He FASTENED upstairs, and few
minutes later I heard the slam of the hall
| door, which told that he was off once more
upon his congenial hunt.
! l waited until midnight, but there was no
| sign of his return, l retired to my room 1t
was no uncommon thing for him to be away for
| days and nights on end when he was hot upon
a scent, that his lateness caused me no sur
! prise. I do not know at what hour he came
| in, but when I came down to breakfast in the
morning, there he with a cup of coffee in
one hand and the paper in the other, as fresh
and trim possible.
| .'You will excuse my beginning without you,
Watson" said he; ''but you remember that
our client has rather early appointment this
morning."
"Why, it is after 9 now" answered II
| should not be surprised If that were he.
| thought heard a ring
| It was, indeed, our friend the fnancier.
was shocked by the change which had come
L o{,,roy 1Iy ~
| a broad and massive mould, was now pinched
| and fallen in, which his hair seemed to me at
| least shade whittier. He entered with a wear1'
ness and lethargy which was even more pain.
full than his violence of the morning before, and
he dropped heavily into the armchair Which
pushed forward for him.
| 81 do not know what I have done to be sc
severely tried" said he. "Only two days age
care in the world Now l am left to lonely
and dishonored age. One sorrow comes close
upon the heels of another. My niece, Mary, has
deserted me-
! eyes Her bed this morning had not beer
slept in, her room was empty, and note FOL
me lay upon the hall table. had said to hei
last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that II
she had married my boy all might have beer
we'll with him. Perhaps it was thoushtless OF
me to say so. 1t is to that remark that shs
refers in this note:
"'NIy Dearest Uncle-I feel that I have
drought trouble upon you, and that If l hat
acted differently this terrible misfortune Nigh
never have occurred. 1 cannot, with thl
thought in my mind, ever again be happy unde
your roof, and feel that 1 must leave you To-
ever Do not worry about my future, for tina
is provided for; and above all. do not searcl
for me, for it will be fruitless labor and an i'll
service to me. In life or in death, l am eve
| vour loving Mary.
s.What could she mean by that note, Mr.
Holmes? Do you think it points to suicide?'
'No, no, nothing of the kind. 1t is perhap
the best possible solution. I trust, Mr. Holder
that you are nearing the end of your troubles
"Ha! You say SOL You have heard some
thing Mr.. Holmes; you have learned some
thing! Where are the gems?'
''You would not think $1,000 apiece an exces
Sive sum for them?
81 would pay ten"
.'That would be unnecessary Three thousan'
will cover the matter. And there is little re
ward, 1 fancy. Have you your check book
Here is PEN Better make it out for $4,000.
7 With q dazed face the banker made out tn
required check Holmes walked over to hi
desk took out little triangular piece of gol
with three gems in it, and threw 1t down upo
| the table. -.......- ....
With shrek of joy our client clutched it UP
= 'You have it," he gasped. 81 am saved!
am saved!' --.-..
The reaction Of joy passionate as hi
grief had been, and he Rugged his recovere
gems to his bosom.
, "There is one other thing you owe, Mr.. Hole
err said Sherlock Holmes, rather sternly. :,
\ q
+ sum, and will pay it,
.sNo, the debt is not to You yer
, humble apology to that noble lad. your son, VIII
has carried himself in this matter as shoul
, be proud to see my own son do, should l eve
chance to have one.
. '"Then it was not Arthur who took them:''
81 told you yesterday, and repeat today, tina
it was not.''
"You are sure Of it! Then let us hurry
him at once to let him know that the truth
known
''He knows it already. When had cleared
t all up had an interview with MIN. and, mn,
! ing that he would not tell me the story, tol
it to him, which he had to confess that wa
! right, and to add the very few details whic
! We're not yet quite clear to me. Your news {
i this morning, however, may open his lips
''For heavens sake, tell me, then, what Is tn
, extraordinary mystery"
. / 81 will do so, and will show you the steI
n by which reached it. And let me say to vol
> first, that which it is hardest for me to sa
4 and for you to hear: there has been an unde
standing between Sir George Burnwell and yor
4 niece Mary. They have now fled together
| ''My Mary? ImpOssible!' =
81, cit Is. unfortunately, more than possible;
is certain. Neither you nor your son knew tt
. true character of this man when you admitte
him into your family circle. He is one of IL
n most dangerous in England ruined gan
: bier, an absolutely desperate villain, ma
$ without heart or conscience. Your niece kne
: nothing of such men. When he breathed b
. ! VOWS to her, he had done to a hundred b
: fore her. she fattered herself that she aloI
= had touched his heart The devil knows be-
. what he said, but at least she became his too
= | and was in the habit Of seeing him nearly ever
evening"
. 81 cannot. and will not, believe it!'' erie
: | the banker, with ashen face.
r 81 will tell you. then, what occurred in yol
h house last night. Your niece, when you had