Night was drawing near again; she would have to go. He was avoiding her.

But suddenly he came striding into the clearing, in his black oilskin jacket like a chauffeur, shining with wet. He glanced quickly at the hut, half–saluted, then veered aside and went on to the coops. There he crouched in silence, looking carefully at everything, then carefully shutting the hens and chicks up safe against the night.

At last he came slowly towards her. She still sat on her stool. He stood before her under the porch.

‘You come then,’ he said, using the intonation of the dialect.

‘Yes,’ she said, looking up at him. ‘You’re late!’

‘Ay!’ he replied, looking away into the wood.

She rose slowly, drawing aside her stool.

‘Did you want to come in?’ she asked.

He looked down at her shrewdly.

‘Won’t folks be thinkin’ somethink, you comin’ here every night?’ he said.

‘Why?’ She looked up at him, at a loss. ‘I said I’d come. Nobody knows.’

‘They soon will, though,’ he replied. ‘An’ what then?’

She was at a loss for an answer.

‘Why should they know?’ she said.

‘Folks always does,’ he said fatally.

Her lip quivered a little.

‘Well I can’t help it,’ she faltered.

‘Nay,’ he said. ‘You can help it by not not comin’—if yer want to,’ he added, in a lower tone.

‘But I don’t want to,’ she murmured.

He looked away into the wood, and was silent.

‘But what when folks finds out?’ he asked at last. ‘Think about it! Think how lowered you’ll feel, one of your husband’s servants.’

She looked up at his averted face.

‘Is it,’ she stammered, ‘is it that you don’t want me?’

‘Think!’ he said. ‘Think what if folks find out Sir Clifford an’ a’—an’ everybody talkin’—’

‘Well, I can go away.’

‘Where to?’

‘Anywhere! I’ve got money of my own. My mother left me twenty thousand pounds in trust, and I know Clifford can’t touch it. I can go away.’

‘But ‘appen you don’t want to go away.’

‘Yes, yes! I don’t care what happens to me.’

‘Ay, you think that! But you’ll care! You’ll have to care, everybody has. You’ve got to remember your Ladyship is carrying on with a game–keeper. It’s not as if I was a gentleman. Yes, you’d care. You’d care.’

‘I shouldn’t. What do I care about my ladyship! I hate it really. I feel people are jeering every time they say it. And they are, they are! Even you jeer when you say it.’

‘Me!’

For the first time he looked straight at her, and into her eyes. ‘I don’t jeer at you,’ he said.

As he looked into her eyes she saw his own eyes go dark, quite dark, the pupils dilating.

“You won’t take the key from me by force, Watson. I’ve got you, my friend. Here you are, and here you will stay until I will otherwise. But I’ll humour you.” (All this in little gasps, with terrible struggles for breath between.) “You’ve only my own good at heart. Of course I know that very well. You shall have your way, but give me time to get my strength. Not now, Watson, not now. It’s four o’clock. At six you can go.”

“This is insanity, Holmes.”

“Only two hours, Watson. I promise you will go at six. Are you content to wait?”

“I seem to have no choice.”

“None in the world, Watson. Thank you, I need no help in arranging the clothes. You will please keep your distance. Now, Watson, there is one other condition that I would make. You will seek help, not from the man you mention, but from the one that I choose.”

“By all means.”

“The first three sensible words that you have uttered since you entered this room, Watson. You will find some books over there. I am somewhat exhausted; I wonder how a battery feels when it pours electricity into a non-conductor? At six, Watson, we resume our conversation.”

But it was destined to be resumed long before that hour, and in circumstances which gave me a shock hardly second to that caused by his spring to the door. I had stood for some minutes looking at the silent figure in the bed. His face was almost covered by the clothes and he appeared to be asleep. Then, unable to settle down to reading, I walked slowly round the room, examining the pictures of celebrated criminals with which every wall was adorned. Finally, in my aimless perambulation, I came to the mantelpiece. A litter of pipes, tobacco-pouches, syringes, penknives, revolver-cartridges, and other debris was scattered over it. In the midst of these was a small black and white ivory box with a sliding lid. It was a neat little thing, and I had stretched out my hand to examine it more closely when — It was a dreadful cry that he gave — a yell which might have been heard down the street. My skin went cold and my hair bristled at that horrible scream. As I turned I caught a glimpse of a convulsed face and frantic eyes. I stood paralyzed, with the little box in my hand.

“Put it down! Down, this instant, Watson — this instant, I say!” His head sank back upon the pillow and he gave a deep sigh of relief as I replaced the box upon the mantelpiece. “I hate to have my things touched, Watson. You know that I hate it. You fidget me beyond endurance. You, a doctor — you are enough to drive a patient into an asylum. Sit down, man, and let me have my rest!”

The incident left a most unpleasant impression upon my mind. The violent and causeless excitement, followed by this brutality of speech, so far removed from his usual suavity, showed me how deep was the disorganization of his mind. Of all ruins, that of a noble mind is the most deplorable. I sat in silent dejection until the stipulated time had passed. He seemed to have been watching the clock as well as I, for it was hardly six before he began to talk with the same feverish animation as before.