Disappearance Of Lady Frances Carfax Read Online

Disappearance Of Lady Frances Carfax

The Disappearance of Lady Frances Carfax

By Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

"But why Turkish?" asked Mr. Sherlock Holmes, gazing fixedly at

my boots.  I was reclining in a cane-backed chair at the moment,

and my protruded feet had attracted his ever-active attention.

"English," I answered in some surprise.  "I got them at

Latimer's, in Oxford Street."

Holmes smiled with an expression of weary patience.

"The bath!" he said; "the bath!  Why the relaxing and expensive

Turkish rather than the invigorating home-made article?"

"Because for the last few days I have been feeling rheumatic and

old. A Turkish bath is what we call an alterative in medicine--a

fresh starting-point, a cleanser of the system.

"By the way, Holmes," I added, "I have no doubt the connection

between my boots and a Turkish bath is a perfectly self-evident

one to a logical mind, and yet I should be obliged to you if you

would indicate it."

"The train of reasoning is not very obscure, Watson," said Holmes

with a mischievous twinkle.  "It belongs to the same elementary

class of deduction which I should illustrate if I were to ask you

who shared your cab in your drive this morning."

"I don't admit that a fresh illustration is an explanation," said

I with some asperity.

"Bravo, Watson!  A very dignified and logical remonstrance.  Let

me see, what were the points?  Take the last one first--the cab.

You observe that you have some splashes on the left sleeve and

shoulder of your coat.  Had you sat in the centre of a hansom you

would probably have had no splashes, and if you had they would

certainly have been symmetrical.  Therefore it is clear that you

sat at the side.  Therefore it is equally clear that you had a

companion."

"That is very evident."

"Absurdly commonplace, is it not?"

"But the boots and the bath?"

"Equally childish.  You are in the habit of doing up your boots

in a certain way.  I see them on this occasion fastened with an

elaborate double bow, which is not your usual method of tying

them.  You have, therefore, had them off.  Who has tied them?  A

bootmaker--or the boy at the bath.  It is unlikely that it is the

bootmaker, since your boots are nearly new.  Well, what remains?

The bath.  Absurd, is it not?  But, for all that, the Turkish

bath has served a purpose."

"What is that?"

"You say that you have had it because you need a change.  Let me

suggest that you take one.  How would Lausanne do, my dear

Watson--first-class tickets and all expenses paid on a princely

scale?"

"Splendid!  But why?"

Holmes leaned back in his armchair and took his notebook from his

pocket.

"One of the most dangerous classes in the world," said he, "is

the drifting and friendless woman.  She is the most harmless and

often the most useful of mortals, but she is the inevitable

inciter of crime in others.  She is helpless.  She is migratory.

She has sufficient means to take her from country to country and

from hotel to hotel.  She is lost, as often as not, in a maze of

obscure pensions and boardinghouses.  She is a stray chicken in a

world of foxes.  When she is gobbled up she is hardly missed. I

much fear that some evil has come to the Lady Frances Carfax."

I was relieved at this sudden descent from the general to the

particular.  Holmes consulted his notes.

"Lady Frances," he continued, "is the sole survivor of the direct

family of the late Earl of Rufton.  The estates went, as you may

remember, in the male line.  She was left with limited means, but

with some very remarkable old Spanish jewellery of silver and

curiously cut diamonds to which she was fondly attached--too

attached, for she refused to leave them with her banker and

always carried them about with her.  A rather pathetic figure,

the Lady Frances, a beautiful woman, still in fresh middle age,

and yet, by a strange change, the last derelict of what only

twenty years ago was a goodly fleet."

"What has happened to her, then?"

"Ah, what has happened to the Lady Frances?  Is she alive or

dead?  There is our problem.  She is a lady of precise habits,

and for four years it has been her invariable custom to write

every second week to Miss Dobney, her old governess, who has long

retired and lives in Camberwell. It is this Miss Dobney who has

consulted me.  Nearly five weeks have passed without a word.  The

last letter was from the Hotel National at Lausanne. Lady Frances

seems to have left there and given no address.  The family are

anxious, and as they are exceedingly wealthy no sum will be

spared if we can clear the matter up."

"Is Miss Dobney the only source of information?  Surely she had

other correspondents?"

"There is one correspondent who is a sure draw, Watson.  That is

the bank.  Single ladies must live, and their passbooks are

compressed diaries.  She banks at Silvester's.  I have glanced

over her account.  The last check but one paid her bill at

Lausanne, but it was a large one and probably left her with cash

in hand.  Only one check has been drawn since."

"To whom, and where?"

"To Miss Marie Devine.  There is nothing to show where the check

was drawn.  It was cashed at the Credit Lyonnais at Montpellier

less than three weeks ago.  The sum was fifty pounds."

"And who is Miss Marie Devine?"

"That also I have been able to discover.  Miss Marie Devine was

the maid of Lady Frances Carfax.  Why she should have paid her

this check we have not yet determined. I have no doubt, however,

that your researches will soon clear the matter up."

"MY researches!"

"Hence the health-giving expedition to Lausanne.  You know that I

cannot possibly leave London while old Abrahams is in such mortal

terror of his life.  Besides, on general principles it is best

that I should not leave the country.  Scotland Yard feels lonely

without me, and it causes an unhealthy excitement among the

criminal classes.  Go, then, my dear Watson, and if my humble

counsel can ever be valued at so extravagant a rate as two pence

a word, it waits your disposal night and day at the end of the

Continental wire."

Two days later found me at the Hotel National at Lausanne, where

I received every courtesy at the hands of M. Moser, the well-

known manager.  Lady Frances, as he informed me, had stayed there

for several weeks.  She had been much liked by all who met her.

Her age was not more than forty.  She was still handsome and bore

every sign of having in her youth been a very lovely woman.  M.

Moser knew nothing of any valuable jewellery, but it had been

remarked by the servants that the heavy trunk in the lady's

bedroom was always scrupulously locked.  Marie Devine, the maid,

was as popular as her mistress.  She was actually engaged to one

of the head waiters in the hotel, and there was no difficulty in

getting her address.  It was 11 Rue de Trajan, Montpellier.  All

this I jotted down and felt that Holmes himself could not have

been more adroit in collecting his facts.

Only one corner still remained in the shadow.  No light which I

possessed could clear up the cause for the lady's sudden

departure.  She was very happy at Lausanne.  There was every

reason to believe that she intended to remain for the season in

her luxurious rooms overlooking the lake.  And yet she had left

at a single day's notice, which involved her in the useless

payment of a week's rent.  Only Jules Vibart, the lover of the

maid, had any suggestion to offer.  He connected the sudden

departure with the visit to the hotel a day or two before of a

tall, dark, bearded man.  "Un sauvage--un veritable sauvage!"

cried Jules Vibart.  The man had rooms somewhere in the town.  He

had been seen talking earnestly to Madame on the promenade by the

lake.  Then he had called.  She had refused to see him.  He was

English, but of his name there was no record.  Madame had left

the place immediately afterwards.  Jules Vibart, and, what was of

more importance, Jules Vibart's sweetheart, thought that this

call and the departure were cause and effect.  Only one thing

Jules would not discuss.  That was the reason why Marie had left

her mistress.  Of that he could or would say nothing.  If I

wished to know, I must go to Montpellier and ask her.

So ended the first chapter of my inquiry.  The second was devoted

to the place which Lady Frances Carfax had sought when she left

Lausanne.  Concerning this there had been some secrecy, which

confirmed the idea that she had gone with the intention of

throwing someone off her track.  Otherwise why should not her

luggage have been openly labelled for Baden?  Both she and it

reached the Rhenish spa by some circuitous route.  This much I

gathered from the manager of Cook's local office.  So to Baden I

went, after dispatching to Holmes an account of all my

proceedings and receiving in reply a telegram of half-humorous

commendation.

At Baden the track was not difficult to follow.  Lady Frances had

stayed at the Englischer Hof for a fortnight.  While there she

had made the acquaintance of a Dr. Shlessinger and his wife, a

missionary from South America.  Like most lonely ladies, Lady

Frances found her comfort and occupation in religion.  Dr.

Shlessinger's remarkable personality, his whole hearted devotion,

and the fact that he was recovering from a disease contracted in

the exercise of his apostolic duties affected her deeply.  She

had helped Mrs. Shlessinger in the nursing of the convalescent

saint.  He spent his day, as the manager described it to me, upon

a lounge-chair on the veranda, with an attendant lady upon either

side of him.  He was preparing a map of the Holy Land, with

special reference to the kingdom of the Midianites, upon which he

was writing a monograph.  Finally, having improved much in

health, he and his wife had returned to London, and Lady Frances

had started thither in their company.  This was just three weeks

before, and the manager had heard nothing since.  As to the maid,

Marie, she had gone off some days beforehand in floods of tears,

after informing the other maids that she was leaving service

forever.  Dr. Shlessinger had paid the bill of the whole party

before his departure.

"By the way," said the landlord in conclusion, "you are not the

only friend of Lady Frances Carfax who is inquiring after her

just now.  Only a week or so ago we had a man here upon the same

errand."

"Did he give a name?" I asked.

"None; but he was an Englishman, though of an unusual type."

"A savage?" said I, linking my facts after the fashion of my

illustrious friend.

"Exactly.  That describes him very well. He is a bulky, bearded,

sunburned fellow, who looks as if he would be more at home in a

farmers' inn than in a fashionable hotel.  A hard, fierce man, I

should think, and one whom I should be sorry to offend."

Already the mystery began to define itself, as figures grow

clearer with the lifting of a fog.  Here was this good and pious

lady pursued from place to place by a sinister and unrelenting

figure.  She feared him, or she would not have fled from

Lausanne.  He had still followed.  Sooner or later he would

overtake her.  Had he already overtaken her?  Was THAT the secret

of her continued silence?  Could the good people who were her

companions not screen her from his violence or his blackmail?

What horrible purpose, what deep design, lay behind this long

pursuit?  There was the problem which I had to solve.

To Holmes I wrote showing how rapidly and surely I had got down

to the roots of the matter.  In reply I had a telegram asking for

a description of Dr. Shlessinger's left ear.  Holmes's ideas of

humour are strange and occasionally offensive, so I took no

notice of his ill-timed jest--indeed, I had already reached

Montpellier in my pursuit of the maid, Marie, before his message

came.

I had no difficulty in finding the ex-servant and in learning all

that she could tell me.  She was a devoted creature, who had only

left her mistress because she was sure that she was in good

hands, and because her own approaching marriage made a separation

inevitable in any case.  Her mistress had, as she confessed with

distress, shown some irritability of temper towards her during

their stay in Baden, and had even questioned her once as if she

had suspicions of her honesty, and this had made the parting

easier than it would otherwise have been.  Lady Frances had given

her fifty pounds as a wedding-present.  Like me, Marie viewed

with deep distrust the stranger who had driven her mistress from

Lausanne.  With her own eyes she had seen him seize the lady's

wrist with great violence on the public promenade by the lake.

He was a fierce and terrible man.  She believed that it was out

of dread of him that Lady Frances had accepted the escort of the

Shlessingers to London.  She had never spoken to Marie about it,

but many little signs had convinced the maid that her mistress

lived in a state of continual nervous apprehension.  So far she

had got in her narrative, when suddenly she sprang from her chair

and her face was convulsed with surprise and fear.  "See!" she

cried.  "The miscreant follows still!  There is the very man of

whom I speak."

Through the open sitting-room window I saw a huge, swarthy man

with a bristling black beard walking slowly down the centre of

the street and staring eagerly at he numbers of the houses.  It

was clear that, like myself, he was on the track of the maid.

Acting upon the impulse of the moment, I rushed out and accosted

him.

"You are an Englishman," I said.

"What if I am?" he asked with a most villainous scowl.

"May I ask what your name is?"

"No, you may not," said he with decision.

The situation was awkward, but the most direct way is often the

best.

"Where is the Lady Frances Carfax?" I asked.

He stared at me with amazement.

"What have you done with her?  Why have you pursued her?  I

insist upon an answer!" said I.

The fellow gave a below of anger and sprang upon me like a tiger.

I have held my own in many a struggle, but the man had a grip of

iron and the fury of a fiend.  His hand was on my throat and my

senses were nearly gone before an unshaven French ouvrier in a

blue blouse darted out from a cabaret opposite, with a cudgel in

his hand, and struck my assailant a sharp crack over the forearm,

which made him leave go his hold.  He stood for an instant fuming

with rage and uncertain whether he should not renew his attack.

Then, with a snarl of anger, he left me and entered the cottage

from which I had just come.  I turned to thank my preserver, who

stood beside me in the roadway.

"Well, Watson," said he, "a very pretty hash you have made of it!

I rather think you had better come back with me to London by the

night express."

An hour afterwards, Sherlock Holmes, in his usual garb and style,

was seated in my private room at the hotel.  His explanation of

his sudden and opportune appearance was simplicity itself, for,

finding that he could get away from London, he determined to head

me off at the next obvious point of my travels.  In the disguise

of a workingman he had sat in the cabaret waiting for my

appearance.

"And a singularly consistent investigation you have made, my dear

Watson," said he.  "I cannot at the moment recall any possible

blunder which you have omitted.  The total effect of your

proceeding has been to give the alarm everywhere and yet to

discover nothing."

"Perhaps you would have done no better," I answered bitterly.

"There is no 'perhaps' about it.  I HAVE done better.  Here is

the Hon. Philip Green, who is a fellow-lodger with you in this

hotel, and we may find him the starting-point for a more

successful investigation."

A card had come up on a salver, and it was followed by the same

bearded ruffian who had attacked me in the street.  He started

when he saw me.

"What is this, Mr. Holmes?" he asked.  "I had your note and I

have come.  But what has this man to do with the matter?"

"This is my old friend and associate, Dr. Watson, who is helping

us in this affair."

The stranger held out a huge, sunburned hand, with a few words of

apology.

"I hope I didn't harm you.  When you accused me of hurting her I

lost my grip of myself.  Indeed, I'm not responsible in these

days.  My nerves are like live wires.  But this situation is

beyond me.  What I want to know, in the first place, Mr. Holmes,

is, how in the world you came to hear of my existence at all."

"I am in touch with Miss Dobney, Lady Frances's governess."

"Old Susan Dobney with the mob cap!  I remember her well."

"And she remembers you.  It was in the days before--before you

found it better to go to South Africa."

"Ah, I see you know my whole story.  I need hide nothing from

you.  I swear to you, Mr. Holmes, that there never was in this

world a man who loved a woman with a more wholehearted love than

I had for Frances.  I was a wild youngster, I know--not worse

than others of my class.  But her mind was pure as snow.  She

could not bear a shadow of coarseness.  So, when she came to hear

of things that I had done, she would have no more to say to me.

And yet she loved me--that is the wonder of it!--loved me well

enough to remain single all her sainted days just for my sake

alone.  When the years had passed and I had made my money at

Barberton I thought perhaps I could seek her out and soften her.

I had heard that she was still unmarried, I found her at Lausanne

and tried all I knew.  She weakened, I think, but her will was

strong, and when next I called she had left the town.  I traced

her to Baden, and then after a time heard that her maid was here.

I'm a rough fellow, fresh from a rough life, and when Dr. Watson

spoke to me as he did I lost hold of myself for a moment.  But

for God's sake tell me what has become of the Lady Frances."

"That is for us to find out," said Sherlock Holmes with peculiar

gravity.  "What is your London address, Mr. Green?"

"The Langham Hotel will find me."

"Then may I recommend that you return there and be on hand in

case I should want you?  I have no desire to encourage false

hopes, but you may rest assured that all that can be done will be

done for the safety of Lady Frances.  I can say no more for the

instant.  I will leave you this card so that you may be able to

keep in touch with us.  Now, Watson, if you will pack your bag I

will cable to Mrs. Hudson to make one of her best efforts for two

hungry travellers at 7:30 to-morrow."

A telegram was awaiting us when we reached our Baker Street

rooms, which Holmes read with an exclamation of interest and

threw across to me.  "Jagged or torn," was the message, and the

place of origin, Baden.

"What is this?" I asked.

"It is everything," Holmes answered.  "You may remember my

seemingly irrelevant question as to this clerical gentleman's

left ear. You did not answer it."

"I had left Baden and could not inquire."

"Exactly.  For this reason I sent a duplicate to the manager of

the Englischer Hof, whose answer lies here."

"What does it show?"

"It shows, my dear Watson, that we are dealing with an

exceptionally astute and dangerous man.  The Rev. Dr.

Shlessinger, missionary from South America, is none other than

Holy Peters, one of the most unscrupulous rascals that Australia

has ever evolved--and for a young country it has turned out some

very finished types.  His particular specialty is the beguiling

of lonely ladies by playing upon their religious feelings, and

his so-called wife, an Englishwoman named Fraser, is a worthy

helpmate.  The nature of his tactics suggested his identity to

me, and this physical peculiarity--he was badly bitten in a

saloon-fight at Adelaide in '89--confirmed my suspicion.  This

poor lady is in the hands of a most infernal couple, who will

stick at nothing, Watson.  That she is already dead is a very

likely supposition.  If not, she is undoubtedly in some sort of

confinement and unable to write to Miss Dobney or her other

friends.  It is always possible that she never reached London, or

that she has passed through it, but the former is improbable, as,

with their system of registration, it is not easy for foreigners

to play tricks with the Continental police; and the latter is

also unlikely, as these rouges could not hope to find any other

place where it would be as easy to keep a person under restraint.

All my instincts tell me that she is in London, but as we have at

present no possible means of telling where, we can only take the

obvious steps, eat our dinner, and possess our souls in patience.

Later in the evening I will stroll down and have a word with

friend Lestrade at Scotland Yard."

But neither the official police nor Holmes's own small but very

efficient organization sufficed to clear away the mystery.  Amid

the crowded millions of London the three persons we sought were

as completely obliterated as if they had never lived.

Advertisements were tried, and failed.  Clues were followed, and

led to nothing.  Every criminal resort which Shlessinger might

frequent was drawn in vain.  His old associates were watched, but

they kept clear of him.  And then suddenly, after a week of

helpless suspense there came a flash of light.  A silver-and-

brilliant pendant of old Spanish design had been pawned at

Bovington's, in Westminster Road.  The pawner was a large, clean-

shaven man of clerical appearance.  His name and address were

demonstrably false.  The ear had escaped notice, but the

description was surely that of Shlessinger.

Three times had our bearded friend from the Langham called for

news--the third time within an hour of this fresh development.

His clothes were getting looser on his great body.  He seemed to

be wilting away in his anxiety.  "If you will only give me

something to do!" was his constant wail.  At last Holmes could

oblige him.

"He has begun to pawn the jewels.  We should get him now."

"But does this mean that any harm has befallen the Lady Frances?"

Holmes shook his head very gravely.

"Supposing that they have held her prisoner up to now, it is

clear that they cannot let her loose without their own

destruction.  We must prepare for the worst."

"What can I do?"

"These people do not know you by sight?"

"No."

"It is possible that he will go to some other pawnbroker in the

future.  in that case, we must begin again.  On the other hand,

he has had a fair price and no questions asked, so if he is in

need of ready-money he will probably come back to Bovington's.  I

will give you a note to them, and they will let you wait in the

shop.  If the fellow comes you will follow him home.  But no

indiscretion, and, above all, no violence.  I put you on your

honour that you will take no step without my knowledge and

consent."

For two days the Hon. Philip Green (he was, I may mention, the

son of the famous admiral of that name who commanded the Sea of

Azof fleet in the Crimean War) brought us no news.  On the

evening of the third he rushed into our sitting-room, pale,

trembling, with every muscle of his powerful frame quivering with

excitement.

"We have him!  We have him!" he cried.

He was incoherent in his agitation.  Holmes soothed him with a

few words and thrust him into an armchair.

"Come, now, give us the order of events," said he.

"She came only an hour ago.  It was the wife, this time, but the

pendant she brought was the fellow of the other.  She is a tall,

pale woman, with ferret eyes."

"That is the lady," said Holmes.

"She left the office and I followed her.  She walked up the

Kennington Road, and I kept behind her.  Presently she went into

a shop.  Mr. Holmes, it was an undertaker's."

My companion started.  "Well?" he asked in that vibrant voice

which told of the fiery soul behind the cold gray face.

"She was talking to the woman behind the counter. I entered as

well.  'It is late,' I heard her say, or words to that effect.

The woman was excusing herself.  'It should be there before now,'

she answered.  'It took longer, being out of the ordinary.'  They

both stopped and looked at me, so I asked some questions and then

left the shop."

"You did excellently well.  What happened next?"

"The woman came out, but I had hid myself in a doorway.  Her

suspicions had been aroused, I think, for she looked round her.

Then she called a cab and got in.  I was lucky enough to get

another and so to follow her.  She got down at last at No. 36,

Poultney Square, Brixton.  I drove past, left my cab at the

corner of the square, and watched the house."

"Did you see anyone?"

"The windows were all in darkness save one on the lower floor.

The blind was down, and I could not see in.  I was standing

there, wondering what I should do next, when a covered van drove

up with two men in it.  They descended, took something out of the

van, and carried it up the steps to the hall door.  Mr. Holmes,

it was a coffin."

"Ah!"

"For an instant I was on the point of rushing in.  The door had

been opened to admit the men and their burden. It was the woman

who had opened it.  But as I stood there she caught a glimpse of

me, and I think that she recognized me.  I saw her start, and she

hastily closed the door.