The Yellow Face

Arthur Conan Doyle

[In publishing these short sketches based upon the numerous cases in which my companion's singular gifts have made us the listeners to, and eventually the actors in, some strange drama, it is only natural that I should dwell rather upon his successes than upon his failures. And this not so much for the sake of his reputations—for, indeed, it was when he was at his wits' end that his energy and his versatility were most admirable—but because where he failed it happened too often that no one else succeeded, and that the tale was left forever without a conclusion. Now and again, however, it chanced that even when he erred, the truth was still discovered. I have noted of some half-dozen cases of the kind of which “The Adventure of the Musgrave Ritual” and that which I am about to recount are the two which present the strongest features of interest.]

Sherlock Holmes was a man who seldom took exercise for exercise's sake. Few men were capable of greater muscular effort, and he was undoubtedly one of the finest boxers of his weight that I have ever seen; but he looked upon aimless bodily exertion as a waste of energy, and he seldom bestirred himself save when there was some professional object to be served. Then he was absolutely untiring and indefatigable. That he should have kept himself in training under such circumstances is remarkable, but his diet was usually of the sparest, and his habits were simple to the verge of austerity. Save for the occasional use of cocaine, he had no vices, and he only turned to the drug as a protest against the monotony of existence when cases were scanty and the papers uninteresting.

One day in early spring he had so far relaxed as to go for a walk with me in the Park, where the first faint shoots of green were breaking out upon the elms, and the sticky spear-heads of the chestnuts were just beginning to burst into their five-fold leaves. For two hours we rambled about together, in silence for the most part, as befits two men who know each other intimately. It was nearly five before we were back in Baker Street once more.

“Beg pardon, sir,” said our page-boy, as he opened the door. “There's been a gentleman here asking for you, sir.”

Holmes glanced reproachfully at me. “So much for afternoon walks!” said he. “Has this gentleman gone, then?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Didn't you ask him in?”

“Yes, sir; he came in.”

“How long did he wait?”

“Half an hour, sir. He was a very restless gentleman, sir, a-walkin' and a-stampin' all the time he was here. I was waitin' outside the door, sir, and I could hear him. At last he outs into the passage, and he cries, ‘Is that man never goin' to come?’ Those were his very words, sir. ‘You'll only need to wait a little longer,’ says I. ‘Then I'll wait in the open air, for I feel half choked,’ says he. ‘I'll be back before long.’ And with that he ups and he outs, and all I could say wouldn't hold him back.”

“Well, well, you did your best,” said Holmes, as we walked into our room. “It's very annoying, though, Watson. I was badly in need of a case, and this looks, from the man's impatience, as if it were of importance. Hullo! That's not your pipe on the table. He must have left his behind him. A nice old brier with a good long stem of what the tobacconists call amber. I wonder how many real amber mouthpieces there are in London? Some people think that a fly in it is a sign. Well, he must have been disturbed in his mind to leave a pipe behind him which he evidently values highly.”

“How do you know that he values it highly?” I asked.

“Well, I should put the original cost of the pipe at seven and sixpence. Now it has, you see, been twice mended, once in the wooden stem and once in the amber. Each of these mends, done, as you observe, with silver bands, must have cost more than the pipe did originally. The man must value the pipe highly when he prefers to patch it up rather than buy a new one with the same money.”

“Anything else?” I asked, for Holmes was turning the pipe about in his hand, and staring at it in his peculiar pensive way.

He held it up and tapped on it with his long, thin fore-finger, as a professor might who was lecturing on a bone.

“Pipes are occasionally of extraordinary interest,” said he. “Nothing has more individuality, save perhaps watches and bootlaces. The indications here, however, are neither very marked nor very important. The owner is obviously a muscular man, left-handed, with an excellent set of teeth, careless in his habits, and with no need to practise economy.”

My friend threw out the information in a very offhand way, but I saw that he cocked his eye at me to see if I had followed his reasoning.

“You think a man must be well-to-do if he smokes a seven-shilling pipe,” said I.

“This is Grosvenor mixture at eightpence an ounce,” Holmes answered, knocking a little out on his palm. “As he might get an excellent smoke for half the price, he has no need to practise economy.”

“And the other points?”

“He has been in the habit of lighting his pipe at lamps and gas-jets. You can see that it is quite charred all down one side. Of course a match could not have done that. Why should a man hold a match to the side of his pipe? But you cannot light it at a lamp without getting the bowl charred. And it is all on the right side of the pipe. From that I gather that he is a left-handed man. You hold your own pipe to the lamp, and see how naturally you, being right-handed, hold the left side to the flame. You might do it once the other way, but not as a constancy. This has always been held so. Then he has bitten through his amber. It takes a muscular, energetic fellow, and one with a good set of teeth, to do that. But if I am not mistaken I hear him upon the stair, so we shall have something more interesting than his pipe to study.”

An instant later our door opened, and a tall young man entered the room. He was well but quietly dressed in a dark-gray suit, and carried a brown wide-awake in his hand. I should have put him at about thirty, though he was really some years older.

“I beg your pardon,” said he, with some embarrassment; “I suppose I should have knocked. Yes, of course I should have knocked. The fact is that I am a little upset, and you must put it all down to that.” He passed his hand over his forehead like a man who is half dazed, and then fell rather than sat down upon a chair.

“I can see that you have not slept for a night or two,” said Holmes, in his easy, genial way. “That tries a man's nerves more than work, and more even than pleasure. May I ask how I can help you?”

“I wanted your advice, sir. I don't know what to do and my whole life seems to have gone to pieces.”

“You wish to employ me as a consulting detective?”

“Not that only. I want your opinion as a judicious man—as a man of the world. I want to know what I ought to do next. I hope to God you'll be able to tell me.”

He spoke in little, sharp, jerky outbursts, and it seemed to me that to speak at all was very painful to him, and that his will all through was overriding his inclinations.

“It's a very delicate thing,” said he. “One does not like to speak of one's domestic affairs to strangers. It seems dreadful to discuss the conduct of one's wife with two men whom I have never seen before. It's horrible to have to do it. But I've got to the end of my tether, and I must have advice.”

“My dear Mr. Grant Munro—” began Holmes.

Our visitor sprang from his chair. “What!” he cried, “you know my name?”

“If you wish to preserve your incognito,” said Holmes, smiling, “I would suggest that you cease to write your name upon the lining of your hat, or else that you turn the crown towards the person whom you are addressing. I was about to say that my friend and I have listened to a good many strange secrets in this room, and that we have had the good fortune to bring peace to many troubled souls. I trust that we may do as much for you. Might I beg you, as time may prove to be of importance, to furnish me with the facts of your case without further delay?”

Our visitor again passed his hand over his forehead, as if he found it bitterly hard. From every gesture and expression I could see that he was a reserved, self-contained man, with a dash of pride in his nature, more likely to hide his wounds than to expose them. Then suddenly, with a fierce gesture of his closed hand, like one who throws reserve to the winds, he began.

“The facts are these, Mr. Holmes,” said he. “I am a married man, and have been so for three years. During that time my wife and I have loved each other as fondly and lived as happily as any two that ever were joined. We have not had a difference, not one, in thought or word or deed. And now, since last Monday, there has suddenly sprung up a barrier between us, and I find that there is something in her life and in her thought of which I know as little as if she were the woman who brushes by me in the street. We are estranged, and I want to know why.

“Now there is one thing that I want to impress upon you before I go any further, Mr. Holmes. Effie loves me. Don't let there be any mistake about that. She loves me with her whole heart and soul, and never more than now. I know it. I feel it. I don't want to argue about that. A man can tell easily enough when a woman loves him. But there's this secret between us, and we can never be the same until it is cleared.”

“Kindly let me have the facts, Mr. Munro,” said Holmes, with some impatience.

“I'll tell you what I know about Effie's history. She was a widow when I met her first, though quite young—only twenty-five. Her name then was Mrs. Hebron. She went out to America when she was young, and lived in the town of Atlanta, where she married this Hebron, who was a lawyer with a good practice. They had one child, but the yellow fever broke out badly in the place, and both husband and child died of it. I have seen his death certificate. This sickened her of America, and she came back to live with a maiden aunt at Pinner, in Middlesex. I may mention that her husband had left her comfortably off, and that she had a capital of about four thousand five hundred pounds, which had been so well invested by him that it returned an average of seven per cent. She had only been six months at Pinner when I met her; we fell in love with each other, and we married a few weeks afterwards.

“I am a hop merchant myself, and as I have an income of seven or eight hundred, we found ourselves comfortably off, and took a nice eighty-pound-a-year villa at Norbury. Our little place was very countrified, considering that it is so close to town. We had an inn and two houses a little above us, and a single cottage at the other side of the field which faces us, and except those there were no houses until you got half way to the station. My business took me into town at certain seasons, but in summer I had less to do, and then in our country home my wife and I were just as happy as could be wished. I tell you that there never was a shadow between us until this accursed affair began.

“There's one thing I ought to tell you before I go further. When we married, my wife made over all her property to me—rather against my will, for I saw how awkward it would be if my business affairs went wrong. However, she would have it so, and it was done. Well, about six weeks ago she came to me.

“‘Jack,’ said she, ‘when you took my money you said that if ever I wanted any I was to ask you for it.’

“‘Certainly,’ said I. ‘It's all your own.’

“‘Well,’ said she, ‘I want a hundred pounds.’

“I was a bit staggered at this, for I had imagined it was simply a new dress or something of the kind that she was after.

“‘What on earth for?’ I asked.

“‘Oh,’ said she, in her playful way, ‘you said that you were only my banker, and bankers never ask questions, you know.’

“‘If you really mean it, of course you shall have the money,’ said I.

“‘Oh, yes, I really mean it.’

“‘And you won't tell me what you want it for?’

“‘Some day, perhaps, but not just at present, Jack.’

“So I had to be content with that, though it was the first time that there had ever been any secret between us. I gave her a check, and I never thought any more of the matter. It may have nothing to do with what came afterwards, but I thought it only right to mention it.

“Well, I told you just now that there is a cottage not far from our house. There is just a field between us, but to reach it you have to go along the road and then turn down a lane. Just beyond it is a nice little grove of Scotch firs, and I used to be very fond of strolling down there, for trees are always a neighborly kind of things. The cottage had been standing empty this eight months, and it was a pity, for it was a pretty two storied place, with an old-fashioned porch and honeysuckle about it. I have stood many a time and thought what a neat little homestead it would make.

“Well, last Monday evening I was taking a stroll down that way, when I met an empty van coming up the lane, and saw a pile of carpets and things lying about on the grass-plot beside the porch. It was clear that the cottage had at last been let. I walked past it, and wondered what sort of folk they were who had come to live so near us. And as I looked I suddenly became aware that a face was watching me out of one of the upper windows.

“I don't know what there was about that face, Mr. Holmes, but it seemed to send a chill right down my back. I was some little way off, so that I could not make out the features, but there was something unnatural and inhuman about the face. That was the impression that I had, and I moved quickly forwards to get a nearer view of the person who was watching me. But as I did so the face suddenly disappeared, so suddenly that it seemed to have been plucked away into the darkness of the room. I stood for five minutes thinking the business over, and trying to analyze my impressions. I could not tell if the face were that of a man or a woman. It had been too far from me for that. But its color was what had impressed me most. It was of a livid chalky white, and with something set and rigid about it which was shockingly unnatural. So disturbed was I that I determined to see a little more of the new inmates of the cottage. I approached and knocked at the door, which was instantly opened by a tall, gaunt woman with a harsh, forbidding face.

“‘What may you be wantin'?’ she asked, in a Northern accent.

“‘I am your neighbor over yonder,’ said I, nodding towards my house. ‘I see that you have only just moved in, so I thought that if I could be of any help to you in any—’

“‘Ay, we'll just ask ye when we want ye,’ said she, and shut the door in my face. Annoyed at the churlish rebuff, I turned my back and walked home. All evening, though I tried to think of other things, my mind would still turn to the apparition at the window and the rudeness of the woman. I determined to say nothing about the former to my wife, for she is a nervous, highly strung woman, and I had no wish that she would share the unpleasant impression which had been produced upon myself. I remarked to her, however, before I fell asleep, that the cottage was now occupied, to which she returned no reply.

“I am usually an extremely sound sleeper. It has been a standing jest in the family that nothing could ever wake me during the night. And yet somehow on that particular night, whether it may have been the slight excitement produced by my little adventure or not I know not, but I slept much more lightly than usual. Half in my dreams I was dimly conscious that something was going on in the room, and gradually became aware that my wife had dressed herself and was slipping on her mantle and her bonnet. My lips were parted to murmur out some sleepy words of surprise or remonstrance at this untimely preparation, when suddenly my half-opened eyes fell upon her face, illuminated by the candle-light, and astonishment held me dumb. She wore an expression such as I had never seen before—such as I should have thought her incapable of assuming. She was deadly pale and breathing fast, glancing furtively towards the bed as she fastened her mantle, to see if she had disturbed me. Then, thinking that I was still asleep, she slipped noiselessly from the room, and an instant later I heard a sharp creaking which could only come from the hinges of the front door. I sat up in bed and rapped my knuckles against the rail to make certain that I was truly awake. Then I took my watch from under the pillow. It was three in the morning. What on this earth could my wife be doing out on the country road at three in the morning?

“I had sat for about twenty minutes turning the thing over in my mind and trying to find some possible explanation. The more I thought, the more extraordinary and inexplicable did it appear. I was still puzzling over it when I heard the door gently close again, and her footsteps coming up the stairs.

“‘Where in the world have you been, Effie?’ I asked as she entered.

“She gave a violent start and a kind of gasping cry when I spoke, and that cry and start troubled me more than all the rest, for there was something indescribably guilty about them. My wife had always been a woman of a frank, open nature, and it gave me a chill to see her slinking into her own room, and crying out and wincing when her own husband spoke to her.

“‘You awake, Jack!’ she cried, with a nervous laugh. ‘Why, I thought that nothing could awake you.’

“‘Where have you been?’ I asked, more sternly.

“‘I don't wonder that you are surprised,’ said she, and I could see that her fingers were trembling as she undid the fastenings of her mantle. ‘Why, I never remember having done such a thing in my life before. The fact is that I felt as though I were choking, and had a perfect longing for a breath of fresh air. I really think that I should have fainted if I had not gone out. I stood at the door for a few minutes, and now I am quite myself again.’

“All the time that she was telling me this story she never once looked in my direction, and her voice was quite unlike her usual tones. It was evident to me that she was saying what was false. I said nothing in reply, but turned my face to the wall, sick at heart, with my mind filled with a thousand venomous doubts and suspicions. What was it that my wife was concealing from me? Where had she been during that strange expedition? I felt that I should have no peace until I knew, and yet I shrank from asking her again after once she had told me what was false. All the rest of the night I tossed and tumbled, framing theory after theory, each more unlikely than the last.

“I should have gone to the City that day, but I was too disturbed in my mind to be able to pay attention to business matters. My wife seemed to be as upset as myself, and I could see from the little questioning glances which she kept shooting at me that she understood that I disbelieved her statement, and that she was at her wits' end what to do. We hardly exchanged a word during breakfast, and immediately afterwards I went out for a walk, that I might think the matter out in the fresh morning air.

“I went as far as the Crystal Palace, spent an hour in the grounds, and was back in Norbury by one o'clock. It happened that my way took me past the cottage, and I stopped for an instant to look at the windows, and to see if I could catch a glimpse of the strange face which had looked out at me on the day before. As I stood there, imagine my surprise, Mr. Holmes, when the door suddenly opened and my wife walked out.

“I was struck dumb with astonishment at the sight of her; but my emotions were nothing to those which showed themselves upon her face when our eyes met. She seemed for an instant to wish to shrink back inside the house again; and then, seeing how useless all concealment must be, she came forward, with a very white face and frightened eyes which belied the smile upon her lips.

“‘Ah, Jack,’ she said, ‘I have just been in to see if I can be of any assistance to our new neighbors. Why do you look at me like that, Jack? You are not angry with me?’

“‘So,’ said I, ‘this is where you went during the night.’

“‘What do you mean?’ she cried.

“‘You came here. I am sure of it. Who are these people, that you should visit them at such an hour?’

“‘I have not been here before.’

“‘How can you tell me what you know is false?’ I cried. ‘Your very voice changes as you speak. When have I ever had a secret from you? I shall enter that cottage, and I shall probe the matter to the bottom.’

“‘No, no, Jack, for God's sake!’ she gasped, in uncontrollable emotion. Then, as I approached the door, she seized my sleeve and pulled me back with convulsive strength.

“‘I implore you not to do this, Jack,’ she cried. ‘I swear that I will tell you everything some day, but nothing but misery can come of it if you enter that cottage.’ Then, as I tried to shake her off, she clung to me in a frenzy of entreaty.

“‘Trust me, Jack!’ she cried. ‘Trust me only this once. You will never have cause to regret it. You know that I would not have a secret from you if it were not for your own sake. Our whole lives are at stake in this. If you come home with me, all will be well. If you force your way into that cottage, all is over between us.’

“There was such earnestness, such despair, in her manner that her words arrested me, and I stood irresolute before the door.

“‘I will trust you on one condition, and on one condition only,’ said I at last. ‘It is that this mystery comes to an end from now. You are at liberty to preserve your secret, but you must promise me that there shall be no more nightly visits, no more doings which are kept from my knowledge. I am willing to forget those which are passed if you will promise that there shall be no more in the future.’

“‘I was sure that you would trust me,’ she cried, with a great sigh of relief. ‘It shall be just as you wish. Come away—oh, come away up to the house.’

“Still pulling at my sleeve, she led me away from the cottage. As we went I glanced back, and there was that yellow livid face watching us out of the upper window. What link could there be between that creature and my wife? Or how could the coarse, rough woman whom I had seen the day before be connected with her? It was a strange puzzle, and yet I knew that my mind could never know ease again until I had solved it.

“For two days after this I stayed at home, and my wife appeared to abide loyally by our engagement, for, as far as I know, she never stirred out of the house. On the third day, however, I had ample evidence that her solemn promise was not enough to hold her back from this secret influence which drew her away from her husband and her duty.

“I had gone into town on that day, but I returned by the 2.40 instead of the 3.36, which is my usual train. As I entered the house the maid ran into the hall with a startled face.

“‘Where is your mistress?’ I asked.

“‘I think that she has gone out for a walk,’ she answered.

“My mind was instantly filled with suspicion. I rushed upstairs to make sure that she was not in the house. As I did so I happened to glance out of one of the upper windows, and saw the maid with whom I had just been speaking running across the field in the direction of the cottage. Then of course I saw exactly what it all meant. My wife had gone over there, and had asked the servant to call her if I should return. Tingling with anger, I rushed down and hurried across, determined to end the matter once and forever. I saw my wife and the maid hurrying back along the lane, but I did not stop to speak with them. In the cottage lay the secret which was casting a shadow over my life. I vowed that, come what might, it should be a secret no longer. I did not even knock when I reached it, but turned the handle and rushed into the passage.

“It was all still and quiet upon the ground floor. In the kitchen a kettle was singing on the fire, and a large black cat lay coiled up in the basket; but there was no sign of the woman whom I had seen before. I ran into the other room, but it was equally deserted. Then I rushed up the stairs, only to find two other rooms empty and deserted at the top. There was no one at all in the whole house. The furniture and pictures were of the most common and vulgar description, save in the one chamber at the window of which I had seen the strange face. That was comfortable and elegant, and all my suspicions rose into a fierce bitter flame when I saw that on the mantelpiece stood a copy of a full-length photograph of my wife, which had been taken at my request only three months ago.

“I stayed long enough to make certain that the house was absolutely empty. Then I left it, feeling a weight at my heart such as I had never had before. My wife came out into the hall as I entered my house; but I was too hurt and angry to speak with her, and pushing past her, I made my way into my study. She followed me, however, before I could close the door.

“‘I am sorry that I broke my promise, Jack,’ said she; ‘but if you knew all the circumstances I am sure that you would forgive me.’

“‘Tell me everything, then,’ said I.

“‘I cannot, Jack, I cannot,’ she cried.

“‘Until you tell me who it is that has been living in that cottage, and who it is to whom you have given that photograph, there can never be any confidence between us,’ said I, and breaking away from her, I left the house. That was yesterday, Mr. Holmes, and I have not seen her since, nor do I know anything more about this strange business. It is the first shadow that has come between us, and it has so shaken me that I do not know what I should do for the best. Suddenly this morning it occurred to me that you were the man to advise me, so I have hurried to you now, and I place myself unreservedly in your hands. If there is any point which I have not made clear, pray question me about it. But, above all, tell me quickly what I am to do, for this misery is more than I can bear.”

Holmes and I had listened with the utmost interest to this extraordinary statement, which had been delivered in the jerky, broken fashion of a man who is under the influence of extreme emotions. My companion sat silent for some time, with his chin upon his hand, lost in thought.

“Tell me,” said he at last, “could you swear that this was a man's face which you saw at the window?”

“Each time that I saw it I was some distance away from it, so that it is impossible for me to say.”

“You appear, however, to have been disagreeably impressed by it.”

“It seemed to be of an unnatural color, and to have a strange rigidity about the features. When I approached, it vanished with a jerk.”

“How long is it since your wife asked you for a hundred pounds?”

“Nearly two months.”

“Have you ever seen a photograph of her first husband?”

“No; there was a great fire at Atlanta very shortly after his death, and all her papers were destroyed.”

“And yet she had a certificate of death. You say that you saw it.”

“Yes; she got a duplicate after the fire.”

“Did you ever meet any one who knew her in America?”

“No.”

“Did she ever talk of revisiting the place?”

“No.”

“Or get letters from it?”

“No.”

“Thank you. I should like to think over the matter a little now. If the cottage is now permanently deserted we may have some difficulty. If, on the other hand, as I fancy is more likely, the inmates were warned of your coming, and left before you entered yesterday, then they may be back now, and we should clear it all up easily. Let me advise you, then, to return to Norbury, and to examine the windows of the cottage again. If you have reason to believe that is inhabited, do not force your way in, but send a wire to my friend and me. We shall be with you within an hour of receiving it, and we shall then very soon get to the bottom of the business.”

“And if it is still empty?”

“In that case I shall come out to-morrow and talk it over with you. Good-bye, and, above all, do not fret until you know that you really have a cause for it.”

“I am afraid that this is a bad business, Watson,” said my companion, as he returned after accompanying Mr. Grant Munro to the door. “What do you make of it?”

“It had an ugly sound,” I answered.

“Yes. There's blackmail in it, or I am much mistaken.”

“And who is the blackmailer?”

“Well, it must be the creature who lives in the only comfortable room in the place, and has her photograph above his fireplace. Upon my word, Watson, there is something very attractive about that livid face at the window, and I would not have missed the case for worlds.”

“You have a theory?”

“Yes, a provisional one. But I shall be surprised if it does not turn out to be correct. This woman's first husband is in that cottage.”

“Why do you think so?”

“How else can we explain her frenzied anxiety that her second one should not enter it? The facts, as I read them, are something like this: This woman was married in America. Her husband developed some hateful qualities; or shall we say that he contracted some loathsome disease, and became a leper or an imbecile? She flies from him at last, returns to England, changes her name, and starts her life, as she thinks, afresh. She has been married three years, and believes that her position is quite secure, having shown her husband the death certificate of some man whose name she has assumed, when suddenly her whereabouts is discovered by her first husband; or, we may suppose, by some unscrupulous woman who has attached herself to the invalid. They write to the wife, and threaten to come and expose her. She asks for a hundred pounds, and endeavors to buy them off. They come in spite of it, and when the husband mentions casually to the wife that there are new-comers in the cottage, she knows in some way that they are her pursuers. She waits until her husband is asleep, and then she rushes down to endeavor to persuade them to leave her in peace. Having no success, she goes again next morning, and her husband meets her, as he has told us, as she comes out. She promises him then not to go there again, but two days afterwards the hope of getting rid of those dreadful neighbors was too strong for her, and she made another attempt, taking down with her the photograph which had probably been demanded from her. In the midst of this interview the maid rushed in to say that the master had come home, on which the wife, knowing that he would come straight down to the cottage, hurried the inmates out at the back door, into the grove of fir-trees, probably, which was mentioned as standing near. In this way he found the place deserted. I shall be very much surprised, however, if it still so when he reconnoitres it this evening. What do you think of my theory?”

“It is all surmise.”

“But at least it covers all the facts. When new facts come to our knowledge which cannot be covered by it, it will be time enough to reconsider it. We can do nothing more until we have a message from our friend at Norbury.”

But we had not a very long time to wait for that. It came just as we had finished our tea.

“The cottage is still tenanted,” it said. “Have seen the face again at the window. Will meet the seven o'clock train, and will take no steps until you arrive.”

He was waiting on the platform when we stepped out, and we could see in the light of the station lamps that he was very pale, and quivering with agitation.

“They are still there, Mr. Holmes,” said he, laying his hand hard upon my friend's sleeve. “I saw lights in the cottage as I came down. We shall settle it now once and for all.”

“What is your plan, then?” asked Holmes, as he walked down the dark tree-lined road.

“I am going to force my way in and see for myself who is in the house. I wish you both to be there as witnesses.”

“You are quite determined to do this, in spite of your wife's warning that it is better that you should not solve the mystery?”

“Yes, I am determined.”

“Well, I think that you are in the right. Any truth is better than indefinite doubt. We had better go up at once. Of course, legally, we are putting ourselves hopelessly in the wrong; but I think that it is worth it.”

It was a very dark night, and a thin rain began to fall as we turned from the high road into a narrow lane, deeply rutted, with hedges on either side. Mr. Grant Munro pushed impatiently forward, however, and we stumbled after him as best we could.

“There are the lights of my house,” he murmured, pointing to a glimmer among the trees. “And here is the cottage which I am going to enter.”

We turned a corner in the lane as he spoke, and there was the building close beside us. A yellow bar falling across the black foreground showed that the door was not quite closed, and one window in the upper story was brightly illuminated. As we looked, we saw a dark blur moving across the blind.

“There is that creature!” cried Grant Munro. “You can see for yourselves that some one is there. Now follow me, and we shall soon know all.”

We approached the door; but suddenly a woman appeared out of the shadow and stood in the golden track of the lamp-light. I could not see her face in the darkness, but her arms were thrown out in an attitude of entreaty.

“For God's sake, don't Jack!” she cried. “I had a presentiment that you would come this evening. Think better of it, dear! Trust me again, and you will never have cause to regret it.”

“I have trusted you too long, Effie,” he cried, sternly. “Leave go of me! I must pass you. My friends and I are going to settle this matter once and forever!” He pushed her to one side, and we followed closely after him. As he threw the door open an old woman ran out in front of him and tried to bar his passage, but he thrust her back, and an instant afterwards we were all upon the stairs. Grant Munro rushed into the lighted room at the top, and we entered at his heels.

It was a cosy, well-furnished apartment, with two candles burning upon the table and two upon the mantelpiece. In the corner, stooping over a desk, there sat what appeared to be a little girl. Her face was turned away as we entered, but we could see that she was dressed in a red frock, and that she had long white gloves on. As she whisked round to us, I gave a cry of surprise and horror. The face which she turned towards us was of the strangest livid tint, and the features were absolutely devoid of any expression. An instant later the mystery was explained. Holmes, with a laugh, passed his hand behind the child's ear, a mask peeled off from her countenance, an there was a little coal black negress, with all her white teeth flashing in amusement at our amazed faces. I burst out laughing, out of sympathy with her merriment; but Grant Munro stood staring, with his hand clutching his throat.

“My God!” he cried. “What can be the meaning of this?”

“I will tell you the meaning of it,” cried the lady, sweeping into the room with a proud, set face. “You have forced me, against my own judgment, to tell you, and now we must both make the best of it. My husband died at Atlanta. My child survived.”

“Your child?”

She drew a large silver locket from her bosom. “You have never seen this open.”

“I understood that it did not open.”

She touched a spring, and the front hinged back. There was a portrait within of a man strikingly handsome and intelligent-looking, but bearing unmistakable signs upon his features of his African descent.

“That is John Hebron, of Atlanta,” said the lady, “and a nobler man never walked the earth. I cut myself off from my race in order to wed him, but never once while he lived did I for an instant regret it. It was our misfortune that our only child took after his people rather than mine. It is often so in such matches, and little Lucy is darker far than ever her father was. But dark or fair, she is my own dear little girlie, and her mother's pet.” The little creature ran across at the words and nestled up against the lady's dress. “When I left her in America,” she continued, “it was only because her health was weak, and the change might have done her harm. She was given to the care of a faithful Scotch woman who had once been our servant. Never for an instant did I dream of disowning her as my child. But when chance threw you in my way, Jack, and I learned to love you, I feared to tell you about my child. God forgive me, I feared that I should lose you, and I had not the courage to tell you. I had to choose between you, and in my weakness I turned away from my own little girl. For three years I have kept her existence a secret from you, but I heard from the nurse, and I knew that all was well with her. At last, however, there came an overwhelming desire to see the child once more. I struggled against it, but in vain. Though I knew the danger, I determined to have the child over, if it were but for a few weeks. I sent a hundred pounds to the nurse, and I gave her instructions about this cottage, so that she might come as a neighbor, without my appearing to be in any way connected with her. I pushed my precautions so far as to order her to keep the child in the house during the daytime, and to cover up her little face and hands so that even those who might see her at the window should not gossip about there being a black child in the neighborhood. If I had been less cautious I might have been more wise, but I was half crazy with fear that you should learn the truth.

“It was you who told me first that the cottage was occupied. I should have waited for the morning, but I could not sleep for excitement, and so at last I slipped out, knowing how difficult it is to awake you. But you saw me go, and that was the beginning of my troubles. Next day you had my secret at your mercy, but you nobly refrained from pursuing your advantage. Three days later, however, the nurse and child only just escaped from the back door as you rushed in at the front one. And now to-night you at last know all, and I ask you what is to become of us, my child and me?” She clasped her hands and waited for an answer.

It was a long ten minutes before Grant Munro broke the silence, and when his answer came it was one of which I love to think. He lifted the little child, kissed her, and then, still carrying her, he held his other hand out to his wife and turned towards the door.

“We can talk it over more comfortably at home,” said he. “I am not a very good man, Effie, but I think that I am a better one than you have given me credit for being.”

Holmes and I followed them down the lane, and my friend plucked at my sleeve as we came out.

“I think,” said he, “that we shall be of more use in London than in Norbury.”

Not another word did he say of the case until late that night, when he was turning away, with his lighted candle, for his bedroom.

“Watson,” said he, “if it should ever strike you that I am getting a little over-confident in my powers, or giving less pains to a case than it deserves, kindly whisper ‘Norbury’ in my ear, and I shall be infinitely obliged to you.” 

黄面人

在一些神秘的案件中，我的朋友福尔摩斯的非凡才能使我们对一些离奇的戏剧一性一故事听得入了神，最后我们自己也投身到这些故事中去了。在我发表根据这些案件所写的短篇小说时，很自然地就把他的成就写得比失败要详细得多。我所以这样做，并不是为了顾全福尔摩斯的名声——事实上，每逢濒于绝境时，他的一精一力和多才多能实在令人钦佩不迭——而是因为凡是福尔摩斯遭到失败之处，别人也不会成功，而故事也就永远没有结局了。然而，往往发生一种情况，甚至当他出现了错误，最后还是被他查出了真情。我曾注意到五六种这类情况的案子，其中有两件案子最明显而引人入胜，一件是马斯格雷夫礼典案，一件就是我现在准备讲述的故事。

福尔摩斯是一个很少为锻炼身一体而进行体育活动的人。一般来说，善于运用自己体力的人并不很多。而毫无疑问，在与他同体重的人中，福尔摩斯是我见过的最优秀的拳击家，不过，他把盲目锻炼身一体看作是一浪一费一精一力，所以除了与他职业有关的项目以外，他对其余活动一向很少问津。可是他一精一力非常充沛，不知疲倦。显然，他这样的养身之道，确实是很奇怪的。他的饮食总是很简单的，起居也极其简朴，近于节衣缩食。除了偶尔注射些可卡因以外，福尔摩斯没有其他恶一习一。每当没有案件可查，而报纸新闻又枯燥无味时，他便求助于麻醉剂，以解除生活的单调。

早春的一天，福尔摩斯清闲起来，居然有时间陪我到公园去散步。此时榆树已生出嫩绿的幼芽，栗树梢头开始冒出五瓣形新叶。我们在一岂不言不语地漫步了两个小时，这对两个互知肺腑的人是很适合的。我们回到贝克街时，已经近五点了。

“请原谅，先生，”我们的小仆人一边开门一边说道，“有一位绅士来找过您，先生。”

福尔摩斯抱怨地望了我一眼。

“这都怪午后散步！”福尔摩斯说道，“那么，这位绅士已经走了吗？”

“是的，先生。”

“你没有请他进来吗？”

“请了，先生，他进来过。”

“他等了多久？”

“他等了半小时，先生。他非常焦躁不安，先生，他一直在屋中踱来踱去，跺着脚。我在门外等候，先生，可是我能听到他的动静。最后他走到过道里大声叫喊说：'是不是他不打算回来了？'他的原话就是这样，先生。我说：'请再稍等一等。'他又说：'那么我到外面去等好了，我在这里快闷死了，过一会我就回来。'说完他就走了，我说什么也留不住他。”

“好了，好了，你做得很对，”我们走进屋中，福尔摩斯说道，“真叫人生气，华生。我正需要一件案子。从这个人急不可耐的样子来看，似乎是一件重要案子呢。喂！这桌上的烟斗不是你的，一定是这个人丢下的。这是一只很好的欧石南根烟斗，斗一柄一很长，是用烟草商叫做琥珀的那种材料做成的。我不知道伦敦城里究竟有几支真正的琥珀烟嘴，有人认为里面包着苍蝇的那种才是真正的琥珀。喂，他竟把显然很珍一爱一的烟斗遗忘了，说明他一定是非常心烦意乱了。”

“你怎么知道他珍一爱一这只烟斗呢？”我问道。

“啊，据我看来，这烟斗的原价不过七先令六便士，可是，你看，已经修补过两次，一次在木一柄一上，另一次是在琥珀嘴上。你可以看到，每次修补都用的是银箍，比烟斗的原价要高得多。这个人宁愿去修理烟斗，也不愿花同样的钱去买一只新的，说明他一定很珍一爱一这只烟斗了。”

“还有别的吗？”我问道，因为福尔摩斯正把烟斗翻过来掉过去，以独特的沉思神情凝视着它。

福尔摩斯把烟斗拿起来，用他那细长的食指弹了弹，好象一个教授在讲授动物骨骼课似的。

“烟斗有时是非常重要的，”福尔摩斯说道，“除了表和鞋带以外，没有什么东西比烟斗更能表示一个人的个一性一了。可是这只烟斗的迹象既不明显，也不重要。烟斗的主人显然是一个身强力壮的人，惯用左手，一口好牙齿，粗心大意，经济富裕。”

我的朋友丝毫不假思索地信口说出了这些话，我看到他斜视着我，看我是否明白他的推理。

“你认为他用一只七先令的烟斗吸烟，那就是一个有钱的人吗？”我问道。

“这是格罗夫纳板烟，八便士一英两，”福尔摩斯说着，把烟斗在手心中磕出一点烟丝来，”用这一半的价钱，他就可以一抽一上等烟了，可见他是经济富裕的了。”

“那么，别的几点呢？”

“他有在油灯和煤气喷灯上点烟斗的一习一惯。你可以看出这烟斗的一边已经烧焦了。当然用火柴就不会弄成这样了。用火柴点烟怎么会烧焦烟斗边呢？但你在油灯上把烟点着，就不能不烧焦烟斗。而烧焦的只是烟斗的右侧，由此，我推测他是一个使用左手的人。现在你把你的烟斗在灯上点燃，你就可以看到，因为你惯用右手，自然是左边侧向火焰了。有时你也许不这么点烟，但这毕竟不是经常的。所以只能认为他惯用左手。琥珀嘴已被咬穿，说明他身强力壮，牙齿整齐。如果我没有弄错的话，我听到他已走上楼来，那么，我们就可以研究一些比这烟斗更有趣的问题了。”

过了一会儿，我们的屋门开了，一个身材高大的年轻人走进来。他身穿一套讲究而素净的深灰色衣服，手中拿着一顶褐色宽檐呢帽。我猜他的年龄在三十岁上下，可是实际上他还要大几岁。

“请原谅，”他有些窘岂不安地说道，“我想我应当先敲一敲门。是的，我当然应该先敲门。可是事实上我有点心烦意乱，请原谅我的冒失。”他把手放在额上，仿佛头昏眼花似的，一扭身倒在椅子上。

“我可以看出你已经一两夜没有睡觉了。”福尔摩斯和蔼可亲地说道，“这确实比工作还要伤神，甚至比玩乐还要伤神。请问我可以帮你什么忙呢？”

“我要请你指教，先生。我不知道怎样办才好，我的整个生活似乎已经垮了。”

“你是不是想请我做一个咨询侦探？”

“不单是这样。你是一个见识广博的人，一个饱经世故的人，我需要你赐教。我需要知道下一步我该怎么办。我希望你能告诉我。”

他说得支离破碎，呼吸急促，声调颤一抖，我觉得他好象连说话本身都非常痛苦，始终竭力用意志抑制着自己的感情。

“这是一件非常棘手的事，”他说道，“哪一个人也不愿意对外人说自己的家务事。尤其是和两个完全陌生的人来商议自己妻子的行为，更是令人难堪。这样做简直太可怕了。可是，我已经到了智穷力尽的地步，不能不向别人求教了。”

“我亲一爱一的格兰特-芒罗先生……”福尔摩斯开口说道。

我们的来客从椅子上跳起身来。

“怎么？”他大声说道，“你知道我的姓名？”

“假如你想隐瞒自己的姓名身份，”福尔摩斯笑容满面地说道，“我劝你以后不要再把名字写在帽里儿上，或者你拜访别人时，不要把帽里儿冲向人家。我正想告诉你，我和我的朋友在这间屋子里已经听到过许许多多稀奇古怪、神秘莫测的事情，而且我们有幸能够使不少惶惑不安的人得到安宁。我相信我们也能为你做到这一点。因为时间是很重要的，请你不要耽误时间，赶快把事情的原委告诉我吧。”

我们的来客又把手放到额上，仿佛感到非常痛苦。我从他的姿态神情上看出来，他是一个沉默寡言、不易冲动的人，天一性一有些骄傲，宁愿掩盖自己的创痛，也不愿暴露出来。后来，他忽然用握紧的拳头作了个坚定的手势，似乎不再保守秘密，开始说道：

“事情是这样的，福尔摩斯先生，我是一个已经结了婚的人，婚后已三年了。在这三年中，我和我的妻子象任何一对夫妻一样，恩一爱一异常，生活美满。我们的思想、言论和行动没有丝毫分歧。可是现在，从上星期一开始，我们中间突然产生了障碍。我发现，在她的生活上和思想上，有一些东西我竟然一无所知，犹如她是个陌路相逢的女人一般。我们疏远了。我要知道这是为什么？

“不过，有一件事我要先让你知道，然后我再继续讲下去，福尔摩斯先生。艾菲是一爱一我的。不要在这方面产生什么误会。她一心一意地一爱一着我，现在更加一爱一我了。这一点我知道，也感觉得出来，这是毋庸置疑的。一个男人很容易察觉女人在一爱一他。不过我们夫妻之间，有这个秘密存在，在这个秘密弄清楚以前，我们不能一切照旧了。”

“芒罗先生，请你把事实告诉我，”福尔摩斯有点不耐烦地说道。

“我先把我所知道的艾菲的历史告诉你。我初次见到她时，虽然她很年轻，仅仅二十五岁，却已是未亡人了。那时她叫赫伯龙夫人。她小时就到美国去了，住在亚特兰大城，在那里嫁给了那个赫伯龙，他是个律师，顾客很多。他们有一个孩子，可是那地方流行了黄热病，她的丈夫和孩子得黄热病双双死去，我看到了赫伯龙的死亡证。这使她对美国产生了恶感，便回国和她未出嫁的姑母一起住在米德尔塞克斯的平纳尔。我还要说明，她的丈夫给她留下相当多的遗产，大约有四千五百镑。她丈夫在世时对这笔资产投资得利，平均年利七厘。我遇见她时，她到平纳尔才六个月，我们互相倾心，几星期后就结婚了。

“我自己是个蛇麻商人，每年有七八百镑的收入。我们在诺伯里租了一座小别墅，每年租金八十镑，生活非常舒适。我们这小地方离城虽然很近，却有乡村风味。离我们不远，有一家小旅馆和两所房屋，我们门前田地的那一边有一所单独的小别墅。除此以外，只有到车站去的半路上才有房子。我的职业使我在一定的季节才进城去办事，可是在夏季我就不用进城了。于是我和我的妻子在自己的乡下住宅纵一情欢乐。我可以告诉你，在这件不幸的事情发生之前，我们夫妇从来没有发生过任何不愉快的事。

“还有一件事，我应当先告诉你，然后再讲下去。我们结婚时，妻子把全部财产都转让到我名下了。这原不是我的本意，因为我觉得我的事业如果失败，那就很难周转了。可是，她一定要这样做，我只好照办了。啊，大约六个星期以前，她来找我。

“'杰克，'她说道，'当你接受我那笔钱的时候，你说过，我什么时候要用就可以向你要。'

“'不错，'我说道，'那本来都是你自己的钱嘛。'

“'好，'她说道，'我要一百镑。'

“我听到这话，感到有些惊愕，因为我以为她不过是要买一件新衣服或其他这一类的东西。

“'到底怎么回事？'我问道。

“'噢，'她开玩笑地说道，'你说过你只不过做我的银行保管，你知道，银行保管是从来不向人家乱发问的。'

“'如果你真需要这些钱，当然可以拿到它。'我说道。

“'啊，是的，我当真需要它。'

“'你不能告诉我你用这笔钱作什么吗？'

“'杰克，过几天可以告诉你，不过现在不行。'

“于是我只好这样办了。不过如果说我们夫妇间有什么秘密的话，这就是破题儿第一遭。我给了她一张支票，事后也没再想这件事。这件事也许和后来发生的事没有什么关系，但我想我还是都说出来好。

“好，我刚才告诉你们，离我们住处不远，有一所小别墅。在我们住所和小别墅之间有一块田野，可是你要到小别墅去，就得沿大道走到对过，然后再绕到一条小路上去。就在小别墅那边，有一频繁茂的苏格兰枞树，我平常很喜欢在那里散步。因为，在树林中散步总是令人心旷神怡的。八个月来，这所小别墅一直无人居住，但这太可惜了。因为那是一座很漂亮的两层楼，有一道古式的游廊，周围到处是金银花。我经常在那里逗留，并且经常想，如果住在这里该是多么惬意啊。

“咳，上星期一傍晚，我走在这条路上，遇到一辆空篷车转到小路上，同时看到游廊旁草地上有一堆地毯和一些别的东西。很明显，这所小别墅终于租出去了。我走过去，象一个游手好闲的人那样停下来打量一番，想知道住得离我们这么近的究竟是什么人。可是我正在打量，突然意识到上面一扇窗户里有一张面孔也正在看着我。

“福尔摩斯先生，我当时不知道这张面孔的样子，可是，我背上似乎冒出了冷汗。我站得稍微远了一点，所以看不清面貌如何。不过这张面孔有点不自然而且不象人脸。这就是我那时的印象。我便急忙走向前去，以便把窥视我的那个人看得更清楚些。但我走近以后，那张面孔突然不见了，仿佛突然被拉到室内的暗处。我站了足有五分钟，仔细考虑这件事，打算把我得到的印象分析一下。我很难说明这究竟是一张男人的面孔，还是女人的，它离我太远了。可是这张面孔的颜色给我留下的印象却是很深的。它就象青灰色的白垩土一样，而且有点僵硬呆板，不自然得吓人。我心里很不安，便决心再去看看这所小别墅的新住户。我走近门前敲了敲门，立即有一个身材高大、体态削瘦的女人把门打开，这女人面容丑陋，令人生畏。

“'你要干什么？'她一操一着北方口音问道。

“'我是你对面的邻居，'我把头朝我的住处点了点，说道，我看你们刚刚搬进来，因此我想是不是能帮助你们做些什么……'

“'喂，我们需要你时，自然会请你的，'她说着，竟然把门关上。我吃了这样粗一暴的闭门羹，非常恼怒，转身便回家了。整个晚上，尽避我竭力去想别的事情，但我脑中始终萦绕着窗口的那个怪人和那女人的粗一鲁形象。我决意不向妻子说这件事，因为她是一个胆怯而又容易激动的女人，我不愿意让她分担我所遭遇到的不快。然而，在我临睡以前，我告诉她那所小别墅现在已经住上人了，她没有回答。

“我通常睡得很死。家里人经常嘲笑我说夜里没有什么能把我吵醒。可是在这天晚上，由于这件事情的小小刺激或是其他原因，我不知道，但我却睡得不象平常那么死。我在似睡非睡中模模糊糊地觉得室内有什么在走动，逐渐意识到我妻子已经穿好衣服，并且披上了斗篷，戴上了帽子。我喃喃地说了几句惊异的话，对她这种不适时的举动提出了异议。当我半睁半闭的双眼突然落到我妻子被烛光映照的脸上，竟使我惊异得说不出话来。她的表情是以前我从未见过的，也决不会是假装的。她脸色死白，呼吸急促，在她扣紧斗篷时，偷偷地瞧着一床一上，看是否惊醒了我。后来，以为我还在睡梦中，她便悄悄地从屋中溜出去，过了一会，我听到一阵尖锐的吱吱嘎嘎声，这分明是大门合叶发出的响声。我从一床一上坐起来，用手关节敲一床一栏，看看我是不是真的醒着。然后我从枕下拿出表来，已经是凌晨三点钟了。而凌晨三点钟我妻子到外面去，她究竟要干什么呢？

“我坐了有二十分钟，脑中翻腾着这件事，设法寻找一些可能的解释。我越想越觉得离奇古怪，莫名片妙。我正在苦苦思索这件事时，听到门又轻轻关上了，我妻子走上楼来。

“'你半夜三更到哪里去了，艾菲？'她一进来，我便问道。

“听我一说，她立即大惊失色，猛然尖一叫了一声。这一惊一叫比其他的事更使我烦恼，因为这里面具有难以形容的内疚之意。我妻子向来是一个真诚而一性一情直爽的女人，看到她悄悄溜进自己的屋内，而当丈夫问话时竟然惊呼出声，畏缩不安，这真使我异常寒心。

“'你醒了，杰克！'她勉强笑了笑，大声说道，'怎么，我还以为没有什么能把你吵醒呢。'

“'你到哪里去了？'我更加严厉地问道。

“'无怪乎你要觉得惊奇了，'她说道。我看到她在解斗篷上的钮扣时，手指不住颤一抖，'呃，以前我从未做过这样的事。事实是这样的：我觉得好象有些气闷，特别想透一透新鲜空气。假如我不出去，我真以为我要晕倒了。我在门外站了几分钟，现在已经完全恢复过来了。'

“她说这番话的时候，始终不敢向我这边看一眼，她的声音也完全不象平常的语调。这就说明她说的都是假话。我没有回答，把脸转向墙壁，非常伤心，心中充满了千百种恶意的猜测和怀疑。我妻子对我隐瞒什么呢？她这次奇怪的外出，究竟到哪里去了？我感到，在我查明这件事的底细以前，我是不会安宁的。可是，在她向我说过一次假话以后，我不愿再问她什么了。这一一夜我一直辗转反侧，忐忑不安，猜来猜去，越想越糊涂。

“第二天我本应到城里去，但我心中异常烦恼，也顾不得照顾生意了。我妻子似乎也和我一样心神不安，她始终注意着我的脸色，我从她那疑虑的目光看去，她已经知道我不相信她讲的话，现在也是六神无主不知如何是好。早餐时我们一句话也没有一交一谈，然后我立即出去散步，以便能在清晨新鲜空气中思考这件事。

“我一直走到克里斯特尔宫，在那里度过了一个小时，回到诺伯里时已经一点钟了。我正巧路过那所小别墅，便停下脚步望望那些窗户，看看是否能见到昨天看我的那张面孔。福尔摩斯先生，你想象我是多么惊奇，原来我正站在那里时，小别墅的门突然打开了，我妻子走了出来。

“我一见到她，竟惊呆得说不出话来，可是当我们目光相遇时，我妻子显得比我更加激动。一霎时，她似乎想再退回到那所别墅中去。后来，看到再隐藏也没有什么用了，便走上前来，面色异常苍白，目光惊惧，与她嘴辱上强露出的微笑，显然是毫不相称的。

“'啊，杰克，'她说道，'我刚才来看看是不是能给新邻居帮点忙。你为什么这样看着我？杰克，你不会和我生气吧？'

“'那么，'我说道，'这就是你昨夜来过的地方了。'

“'你这是什么意思？'她喊道。

“'我完全可以肯定，你昨夜到这里来了。这都是些什么人？你竟然在深更半夜来看他们？'

“'以前我没到这里来过。'

“'你怎能竟然对我说起假话来？'我大声喊道，'你说话时声音都变了。我什么时候有事瞒过你？我要进去，把这件事弄个一清二楚。'

“'不，不，杰克，看在上帝的面上！不要进去。'她激动得控制不住自己，气喘吁吁地说道。等我走到门口时，她一把扯住我的袖子，一股蛮劲把我拉回去。

“'我恳求你不要这样做，杰克，'她高声喊道，'我保证过几天把一切全都告诉你，如果你进到别墅里去，除了自找苦吃以外，没有别的好处。'后来，我从她手中挣脱开，她紧紧把我缠住，疯狂地哀求着。

“请你相信我，杰克！'她叫喊道，'就相信我这一次。你决不会因此而感到后悔的。你知道，要不是为了你好，我决不会对你隐瞒什么的。这关系到我们的整个生活。如果你和我一起回家，一切都会很好的，如果你硬要进别墅去，那么我们之间的一切就全完了。'

“她的态度如此诚恳，又如此绝望，她的话劝阻了我，使我犹豫不决地站在门前。

“'要让我相信你，必须有一个条件，而且只有一个条件，'我终于说道，'那就是从现在起必须停止这种秘密活动。你有权保留你的秘密，但你必须答应我夜里不再出来，不再做什么事情不让我知道。如果你答应我，将来不会再有这样的事情，我就忘掉过去的一切。'

“'我知道你会相信我的，'她非常宽慰地松了口气，高声喊道，'完全可以照你的愿望办。走吧，啊，离开这儿回家去吧。'

“她仍然拉着我的衣袖，把我从小别墅引开。我走时向后看了看，看到上面窗上，有一张铅灰色的面孔正向我们张望。我妻子和这个怪人之间有什么关系呢？头天我看到的那个粗野而又丑陋的女人和她又有什么瓜葛呢？这是一个奇怪的谜。我知道，在我解一开这个疑一团一之前，我的心情是永远不会平静的。

“在这以后，我在家呆了两天，我妻子很忠实守约，因为，就我所知，她从未出门一步。然而，第三天，我有充分的证据证明，她那么严肃许诺的话，竟不能使她摆脱那股神秘的吸引力，从而使她背弃她