cameawarethatmywifehaddressedherselfandwasslippingonhermantleandherbonnet.Mylipswerepartedtomurmuroutsomesleepywordsofsurpriseorremonstranceatthisuntimelypreparation,whensuddenlymyhalf-openedeyesfelluponherface,illuminatedbythecandle-light,andastonishmentheldmedumb.SheworeanexpressionsuchasIhadneverseenbefore—suchasIshouldhavethoughtherincapableofassuming.Shewasdeadlypaleandbreathingfast,glancingfurtivelytowardsthebedasshefastenedhermantle,toseeifshehaddisturbedme.Then,thinkingthatIwasstillasleep,sheslippednoiselesslyfromtheroom,andaninstantlaterIheardasharpcreakingwhichcouldonlycomefromthehingesofthefrontdoor.IsatupinbedandrappedmyknucklesagainsttherailtomakecertainthatIwastrulyawake.ThenItookmywatchfromunderthepillow.Itwasthreeinthemorning.Whatonthisearthcouldmywifebedoingoutonthecountryroadatthreeinthemorning?
“Ihadsatforabouttwentyminutesturningthethingoverinmymindandtryingtofindsomepossibleexplanation.ThemoreIthought,themoreextraordinaryandinexplicablediditappear.IwasstillpuzzlingoveritwhenIheardthedoorgentlycloseagain,andherfootstepscomingupthestairs.
“‘Whereintheworldhaveyoubeen,Effie?’Iaskedassheentered.
“ShegaveaviolentstartandakindofgaspingcrywhenIspoke,andthatcryandstarttroubledmemorethanalltherest,fortherewassomethingindescribablyguiltyaboutthem.Mywifehadalwaysbeenawomanofafrank,opennature,anditgavemeachilltoseeherslinkingintoherownroom,andcryingoutandwincingwhenherownhusbandspoketoher.
“‘Youawake,Jack!’shecried,withanervouslaugh.‘Why,Ithoughtthatnothingcouldawakeyou.’
“‘Wherehaveyoubeen?’Iasked,moresternly.
“‘Idon’twonderthatyouaresurprised,’saidshe,andIcouldseethatherfingersweretremblingassheundidthefasteningsofhermantle.‘Why,Ineverrememberhavingdonesuchathinginmylifebefore.ThefactisthatIfeltasthoughIwerechoking,andhadaperfectlongingforabreathoffreshair.IreallythinkthatIshouldhavefaintedifIhadnotgoneout.Istoodatthedoorforafewminutes,andnowIamquitemyselfagain.’
“Allthetimethatshewastellingmethisstorysheneveroncelookedinmydirection,andhervoicewasquiteunlikeherusualtones.Itwasevidenttomethatshewassayingwhatwasfalse.Isaidnothinginreply,butturnedmyfacetothewall,sickatheart,withmymindfilledwithathousandvenomousdoubtsandsuspicions.Whatwasitthatmywifewasconcealingfromme?Wherehadshebeenduringthatstrangeexpedition?IfeltthatIshouldhavenopeaceuntilIknew,andyetIshrankfromaskingheragainafteronceshehadtoldmewhatwasfalse.AlltherestofthenightItossedandtumbled,framingtheoryaftertheory,eachmoreunlikelythanthelast.
“IshouldhavegonetotheCitythatday,butIwastoodisturbedinmymindtobeabletopayattentiontobusinessmatters.Mywifeseemedtobeasupsetasmyself,andIcouldseefromthelittlequestioningglanceswhichshekeptshootingatmethatsheunderstoodthatIdisbelievedherstatement,andthatshewasatherwits’endwhattodo.Wehardlyexchangedawordduringbreakfast,andimmediatelyafterwardsIwentoutforawalk,thatImightthinkthematteroutinthefreshmorningair.
“IwentasfarastheCrystalPalace,spentanhourinthegrounds,andwasbackinNorburybyoneo’clock.Ithappenedthatmywaytookmepastthecottage,andIstoppedforaninstanttolookatthewindows,andtoseeifIcouldcatchaglimpseofthestrangefacewhichhadlookedoutatmeonthedaybefore.AsIstoodthere,imaginemysurprise,Mr.Holmes,whenthedoorsuddenlyopene