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Updated: June 26, 2025
"Surely I met you in Plymouth at a garden-party some little time ago, Mrs. Straker?" said Holmes. "No, sir; you are mistaken." "Dear me! Why, I could have sworn to it. You wore a costume of dove-colored silk with ostrich-feather trimming." "I never had such a dress, sir," answered the lady. "Ah, that quite settles it," said Holmes. And with an apology he followed the Inspector outside.
At least, that was the way he felt in duty bound to put it. "You have found a substitute now," Agatha urged. "It is only fair to let her have a chance. A week, more or less, can not make any difference, now that I've broken so many engagements already. I'll come back later and make a fresh start." "You stay up here and New York'll forget you're living!" growled Mr. Straker.
Two other boys joined me in waylaying Straker one night at that corner,” pointing to it. “We sprang out and called upon him, in as gruff voices as we could assume, to ‘stand and deliver!’ He dropped down upon his knees in the dirt, declaring he was a poor man, with a sma’ family, asking for ‘mercy,’ and imploring us, as ‘gentlemen, for God’s sake, t’ let him a-be!’ We couldn’t stand this any longer, and set up a shout of laughter.
One has to look sharp when talking to a sophisticated maid. "But were you hiding, Miss Redmond?" Lizzie artlessly inquired. "Oh, no, Lizzie; don't be silly. The telegram probably went wrong; telegrams often do." "Not when Mr. Straker sends them," proffered Lizzie. "But if his telegrams have gone wrong, you may count on his coming down here himself.
"We have had a charming little breath of your beautiful Dartmoor air." The Inspector opened his eyes, and the Colonel's lip curled in a sneer. "So you despair of arresting the murderer of poor Straker," said he. Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "There are certainly grave difficulties in the way," said he.
Barker Emory had been much taken up by Mary Moulton, and was a recognized leader at Belvedere Bay now; Straker Thomas was in a sanitarium; old Lady Torrence was dead; Marian Cowles had snatched George Pomeroy away from one of the Vanderwall girls at the last second; Thomas Prince was paralyzed; Agnes Chase had married a Denver man whom nobody knew; the Parker Hoyts had a delicate little baby at last; Vivian Sartoris had left her husband, nobody knew why.
I at once concluded that Straker was leading a double life, and keeping a second establishment. The nature of the bill showed that there was a lady in the case, and one who had expensive tastes. Liberal as you are with your servants, one can hardly expect that they can buy twenty-guinea walking dresses for their ladies. I questioned Mrs.
Great sociological credit is due to the man who has first clearly observed that Straker has appeared. How anybody can profess for a moment to be glad that he has appeared, I do not attempt to conjecture. Appended to the play is an entertaining though somewhat mysterious document called "The Revolutionist's Handbook."
"Is it not possible," I suggested, "that the incised wound upon Straker may have been caused by his own knife in the convulsive struggles which follow any brain injury?" "It is more than possible; it is probable," said Holmes. "In that case one of the main points in favor of the accused disappears." "And yet," said I, "even now I fail to understand what the theory of the police can be."
"Charley left me just after you did; he had an engagement with Straker." She reached for a macaroon, and ate it with a brightly disengaged air, her eyes, behind their not unbecoming glasses, studying the golf links with absorbed interest. "Anyone else in the library?" Florence asked in a dissatisfied tone. "No. I had it all to myself!" the girl answered pleasantly.
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