rfromLondon,sothatwemayexpectgreatchangestobeginheresoon.TherehavebeendecoratorsandfurnishersupfromPlymouth,anditisevidentthatourfriendhaslargeideasandmeanstosparenopainsorexpensetorestorethegrandeurofhisfamily.Whenthehouseisrenovatedandrefurnished,allthathewillneedwillbeawifetomakeitcomplete.Betweenourselvesthereareprettyclearsignsthatthiswillnotbewantingiftheladyiswilling,forIhaveseldomseenamanmoreinfatuatedwithawomanthanheiswithourbeautifulneighbour,MissStapleton.Andyetthecourseoftruelovedoesnotrunquiteassmoothlyasonewouldunderthecircumstancesexpect.Today,forexample,itssurfacewasbrokenbyaveryunexpectedripple,whichhascausedourfriendconsiderableperplexityandannoyance.
AftertheconversationwhichIhavequotedaboutBarrymore,SirHenryputonhishatandpreparedtogoout.AsamatterofcourseIdidthesame.
“What,areyoucoming,Watson?”heasked,lookingatmeinacuriousway.
“Thatdependsonwhetheryouaregoingonthemoor,”saidI.
“Yes,Iam.”
“Well,youknowwhatmyinstructionsare.Iamsorrytointrude,butyouheardhowearnestlyHolmesinsistedthatIshouldnotleaveyou,andespeciallythatyoushouldnotgoaloneuponthemoor.”
SirHenryputhishanduponmyshoulderwithapleasantsmile.
“Mydearfellow,”saidhe,“Holmes,withallhiswisdom,didnotforeseesomethingswhichhavehappenedsinceIhavebeenonthemoor.Youunderstandme?Iamsurethatyouarethelastmanintheworldwhowouldwishtobeaspoil-sport.Imustgooutalone.”
Itputmeinamostawkwardposition.Iwasatalosswhattosayorwhattodo,andbeforeIhadmadeupmymindhepickeduphiscaneandwasgone.
ButwhenIcametothinkthematterovermyconsciencereproachedmebitterlyforhavingonanypretextallowedhimtogooutofmysight.IimaginedwhatmyfeelingswouldbeifIhadtoreturntoyouandtoconfessthatsomemisfortunehadoccurredthroughmydisregardforyourinstructions.Iassureyoumycheeksflushedattheverythought.Itmightnotevennowbetoolatetoovertakehim,soIsetoffatonceinthedirectionofMerripitHouse.
IhurriedalongtheroadatthetopofmyspeedwithoutseeinganythingofSirHenry,untilIcametothepointwherethemoorpathbranchesoff.There,fearingthatperhapsIhadcomeinthewrongdirectionafterall,ImountedahillfromwhichIcouldcommandaview—thesamehillwhichiscutintothedarkquarry.ThenceIsawhimatonce.Hewasonthemoorpathaboutaquarterofamileoff,andaladywasbyhissidewhocouldonlybeMissStapleton.Itwasclearthattherewasalreadyanunderstandingbetweenthemandthattheyhadmetbyappointment.Theywerewalkingslowlyalongindeepconversation,andIsawhermakingquicklittlemovementsofherhandsasifshewereveryearnestinwhatshewassaying,whilehelistenedintently,andonceortwiceshookhisheadinstrongdissent.Istoodamongtherockswatchingthem,verymuchpuzzledastowhatIshoulddonext.Tofollowthemandbreakintotheirintimateconversationseemedtobeanoutrage,andyetmycleardutywasneverforaninstanttolethimoutofmysight.Toactthespyuponafriendwasahatefultask.Still,Icouldseenobettercoursethantoobservehimfromthehill,andtoclear