haveaskedhadIsetapriceuponmyownservices,anditwaspossiblethatthisordermightleadtootherones.Ontheotherhand,thefaceandmannerofmypatronhadmadeanunpleasantimpressionuponme,andIcouldnotthinkthathisexplanationofthefuller’s-earthwassufficienttoexplainthenecessityformycomingatmidnight,andhisextremeanxietylestIshouldtellanyoneofmyerrand.However,Ithrewallfearstothewinds,ateaheartysupper,drovetoPaddington,andstartedoff,havingobeyedtothelettertheinjunctionastoholdingmytongue.
“AtReadingIhadtochangenotonlymycarriagebutmystation.However,IwasintimeforthelasttraintoEyford,andIreachedthelittledim-litstationaftereleveno’clock.Iwastheonlypassengerwhogotoutthere,andtherewasnooneupontheplatformsaveasinglesleepyporterwithalantern.AsIpassedoutthroughthewicketgate,however,Ifoundmyacquaintanceofthemorningwaitingintheshadowupontheotherside.Withoutawordhegraspedmyarmandhurriedmeintoacarriage,thedoorofwhichwasstandingopen.Hedrewupthewindowsoneitherside,tappedonthewood-work,andawaywewentasfastasthehorsecouldgo.”
“Onehorse?”interjectedHolmes.
“Yes,onlyone.”
“Didyouobservethecolour?”
“Yes,Isawitbytheside-lightswhenIwassteppingintothecarriage.Itwasachestnut.”
“Tired-lookingorfresh?”
“Oh,freshandglossy.”
“Thankyou.Iamsorrytohaveinterruptedyou.Praycontinueyourmostinterestingstatement.”
“Awaywewentthen,andwedroveforatleastanhour.ColonelLysanderStarkhadsaidthatitwasonlysevenmiles,butIshouldthink,fromtheratethatweseemedtogo,andfromthetimethatwetook,thatitmusthavebeennearertwelve.Hesatatmysideinsilenceallthetime,andIwasaware,morethanoncewhenIglancedinhisdirection,thathewaslookingatmewithgreatintensity.Thecountryroadsseemtobenotverygoodinthatpartoftheworld,forwelurchedandjoltedterribly.Itriedtolookoutofthewindowstoseesomethingofwherewewere,buttheyweremadeoffrostedglass,andIcouldmakeoutnothingsavetheoccasionalbrightblurofapassinglight.NowandthenIhazardedsomeremarktobreakthemonotonyofthejourney,butthecolonelansweredonlyinmonosyllables,andtheconversationsoonflagged.Atlast,however,thebumpingoftheroadwasexchangedforthecrispsmoothnessofagravel-drive,andthecarriagecametoastand.ColonelLysanderStarksprangout,and,asIfollowedafterhim,pulledmeswiftlyintoaporchwhichgapedinfrontofus.Westepped,asitwere,rightoutofthecarriageandintothehall,sothatIfailedtocatchthemostfleetingglanceofthefrontofthehouse.TheinstantthatIhadcrossedthethresholdthedoorslammedheavilybehindus,andIheardfaintlytherattleofthewheelsasthecarriagedroveaway.
“Itwaspitchdarkinsidethehouse,andthecolonelfumbledaboutlookingformatchesandmutteringunderhisbreath.Suddenlyadooropenedattheotherendofthepassage,andalong,goldenbaroflightshotoutinourdirection.Itgrewbroader,andawomanappearedwithalampinherhand,whichsheheldaboveherhead,pushingherfaceforwardandpeeringatus.Icouldseethatshewaspretty,andfromtheglosswithwhichthelightshoneuponherdarkdressIknewthatitwasarichmaterial.Shespokeafewwordsinaforeigntongueinatoneasthoughaskingaquestion,andwhenmycompanionansweredinagruffmonosyllableshegavesuchastartthatthelampnearlyfellfromherhand.ColonelStarkwentuptoher,whisperedsomethinginherear,andthen,pushingherbackintotheroomfromwhenceshehadcome,hewalkedtowardsmeagainwiththelampinhishand.
“‘Perhapsyouwillhavethekindnesstowaitinthisroomforafewminutes,’saidhe,throwingopenanotherdoor.Itwasaquiet,little,plainlyfurnishedroom,witharoundtableinthecentre,onwhichseveralGermanbookswerescattered.ColonelStarklaiddownthelamponthetopofaharmoniumbesidethedoor.‘Ishallnotkeepyouwaitinganinstant,’saidhe,andvanishedintothedarkness.
“Iglancedatthebooksuponthetable,andinspiteofmyignoranceofGermanIcouldseethattwoofthemweretreatisesonscience,theothersbeingvolumesofpoetry.ThenIwalkedacrosstothewindow,hopingthatImightc