At this time I was living with Sherlock Holmes. We had rooms at 221B Baker Street.

One morning I woke up early. Holmes was standing by my bed. He was already dressed. I looked up at him in surprise. My clock showed that it was only seven. Holmes got up late, as a rule.

“Very sorry to wake you up, Watson,” he said.

“What is it?” I asked. “A fire?”

“No. It is a young lady. She just came in. She says she must see me. It looks like a case, Watson. I thought you would want to be in on it from the first.”

I put on my clothes. In a few minutes I was ready. We went down to the sitting room.

A lady got to her feet. She was dressed in black. We saw that her face was gray. Her eyes looked like those of a hunted animal.

“Good morning,” said Holmes. “My name is Sherlock Holmes. And this is Dr. Watson. He is my dear friend. Please tell us everything.”

“My name is Helen Stoner,” said the lady. “I am living with my stepfather. His name is Dr. Grimesby Roylott. He is the last living Roylott. The Roylotts have been at Stoke Moran for hundreds of years.”

Holmes nodded. “I know the name,” said he.

Miss Stoner went on. “At one time the Roylott family was one of the richest in England.