"Such as they are, they are set forth in a single article of a

morning paper of yesterday, which I will read to you. It is

headed, 'Singular Occurrence at a Fashionable Wedding':

"'The family of Lord Robert St. Simon has been thrown into the

greatest consternation by the strange and painful episodes which

have taken place in connection with his wedding. The ceremony, as

shortly announced in the papers of yesterday, occurred on the

previous morning; but it is only now that it has been possible to

confirm the strange rumours which have been so persistently

floating about. In spite of the attempts of the friends to hush

the matter up, so much public attention has now been drawn to it

that no good purpose can be served by affecting to disregard what

is a common subject for conversation.

"'The ceremony, which was performed at St. George's, Hanover

Square, was a very quiet one, no one being present save the

father of the bride, Mr. Aloysius Doran, the Duchess of Balmoral,

Lord Backwater, Lord Eustace, and Lady Clara St. Simon (the

younger brother and sister of the bridegroom), and Lady Alicia

Whittington. The whole party proceeded afterwards to the house of

Mr. Aloysius Doran, at Lancaster Gate, where breakfast had been

prepared. It appears that some little trouble was caused by a

woman, whose name has not been ascertained, who endeavored to

force her way into the house after the bridal party, alleging

that she had some claim upon Lord St. Simon. It was only after a

painful and prolonged scene that she was ejected by the butler

and the footman. The bride, who had fortunately entered the house

before this unpleasant interruption, had sat down to breakfast

with the rest, when she complained of a sudden indisposition and

retired to her room. Her prolonged absence having caused some

comment, her father followed her, but learned from her maid that

she had only come up to her chamber for an instant, caught up an

ulster and bonnet, and hurried down to the passage. One of the

footmen declared that he had seen a lady leave the house thus

apparelled, but had refused to credit that it was his mistress,

believing her to be with the company. On ascertaining that his

daughter had disappeared, Mr. Aloysius Doran, in conjunction with

the bridegroom, instantly put themselves in communication with

the police, and very energetic inquiries are being made, which

will probably result in a speedy clearing up of this very

singular business. Up to a late hour last night, however, nothing

had transpired as to the whereabouts of the missing lady. There

are rumours of foul play in the matter, and it is said that the

police have caused the arrest of the woman who had caused the

original disturbance, in the belief that, from jealousy or some

other motive, she may have been concerned in the strange

disappearance of the bride.'"

"And is that all?"

"Only one little item in another of the morning papers, but it is

a suggestive one."

"And it is--"

"That Miss Flora Millar, the lady who had caused the disturbance,

has actually been arrested. It appears that she was formerly a

danseuse at the Allegro, and that she has known the bridegroom

for some years. There are no further particulars, and the whole

case is in your hands now--so far as it has been set forth in the

public press."

"And an exceedingly interesting case it appears to be. I would

not have missed it for worlds. But there is a ring at the bell,

Watson, and as the clock makes it a few minutes after four, I

have no doubt that this will prove to be our noble client. Do not

dream of going, Watson, for I very much prefer having a witness,

if only as a check to my own memory."

"Lord Robert St. Simon," announced our page-boy, throwing open

the door. A gentleman entered, with a pleasant, cultured face,

high-nosed and pale, with something perhaps of petulance about

the mouth, and with the steady, well-opened eye of a man whose

pleasant lot it had ever been to command and to be obeyed. His

manner was brisk, and yet his general appearance gave an undue

impression of age, for he had a slight forward stoop and a little

bend of the knees as he walked. His hair, too, as he swept off

his very curly-brimmed hat, was grizzled round the edges and thin

upon the top. As to his dress, it was careful to the verge of

foppishness, with high collar, black frock-coat, white waistcoat,

yellow gloves, patent-leather shoes, and light-colored gaiters.

He advanced slowly into the room, turning his head from left to

right, and swinging in his right hand the cord which held his

golden eyeglasses.

"Good-day, Lord St. Simon," said Holmes, rising and bowing. "Pray

take the basket-chair. This is my friend and colleague, Dr.

Watson. Draw up a little to the fire, and we will talk this

matter over."

"A most painful matter to me, as you can most readily imagine,

Mr. Holmes. I have been cut to the quick. I understand that you

have already managed several delicate cases of this sort sir,

though I presume that they were hardly from the same class of

society."

"No, I am descending."

"I beg pardon."

"My last client of the sort was a king."

"Oh, really! I had no idea. And which king?"

"The King of Scandinavia."

"What! Had he lost his wife?"

"You can understand," said Holmes suavely, "that I extend to the

affairs of my other clients the same secrecy which I promise to

you in yours."

"Of course! Very right! very right! I'm sure I beg pardon. As to

my own case, I am ready to give you any information which may

assist you in forming an opinion."

"Thank you. I have already learned all that is in the public

prints, nothing more. I presume that I may take it as correct--

this article, for example, as to the disappearance of the bride."

Lord St. Simon glanced over it. "Yes, it is correct, as far as it

goes."

"But it needs a great deal of supplementing before anyone could

offer an opinion. I think that I may arrive at my facts most

directly by questioning you."

"Pray do so."

"When did you first meet Miss Hatty Doran?"

"In San Francisco, a year ago."

"You were travelling in the States?"

"Yes."

"Did you become engaged then?"

"No."

"But you were on a friendly footing?"

"I was amused by her society, and she could see that I was

amused."

"Her father is very rich?"

"He is said to be the richest man on the Pacific slope."

"And how did he make his money?"

"In mining. He had nothing a few years ago. Then he struck gold,

invested it, and came up by leaps and bounds."

"Now, what is your own impression as to the young lady's--your

wife's character?"

The nobleman swung his glasses a little faster and stared down

into the fire. "You see, Mr. Holmes," said he, "my wife was

twenty before her father became a rich man. During that time she

ran free in a mining camp and wandered through woods or

mountains, so that her education has come from Nature rather than

from the schoolmaster. She is what we call in England a tomboy,

with a strong nature, wild and free, unfettered by any sort of

traditions. She is impetuous--volcanic, I was about to say. She

is swift in making up her mind and fearless in carrying out her

resolutions. On the other hand, I would not have given her the

name which I have the honor to bear"--he gave a little stately

cough--"had not I thought her to be at bottom a noble woman. I

believe that she is capable of heroic self-sacrifice and that

anything dishonorable would be repugnant to her."

"Have you her photograph?"

"I brought this with me." He opened a locket and showed us the

full face of a very lovely woman. It was not a photograph but an

ivory miniature, and the artist had brought out the full effect

of the lustrous black hair, the large dark eyes, and the

exquisite mouth. Holmes gazed long and earnestly at it. Then he

closed the locket and handed it back to Lord St. Simon.

"The young lady came to London, then, and you renewed your

acquaintance?"

"Yes, her father brought her over for this last London season. I

met her several times, became engaged to her, and have now

married her."

"She brought, I understand, a considerable dowry?"

"A fair dowry. Not more than is usual in my family."

"And this, of course, remains to you, since the marriage is a

fait accompli?"

"I really have made no inquiries on the subject."

"Very naturally not. Did you see Miss Doran on the day before the

wedding?"

"Yes."

"Was she in good spirits?"

"Never better. She kept talking of what we should do in our

future lives."

"Indeed! That is very interesting. And on the morning of the

wedding?"

"She was as bright as possible--at least until after the

ceremony."

"And did you observe any change in her then?"

"Well, to tell the truth, I saw then the first signs that I had

ever seen that her temper was just a little sharp. The incident

however, was too trivial to relate and can have no possible

bearing upon the case."

"Pray let us have it, for all that."

"Oh, it is childish. She dropped her bouquet as we went towards

the vestry. She was passing the front pew at the time, and it

fell over into the pew. There was a moment's delay, but the

gentleman in the pew handed it up to her again, and it did not

appear to be the worse for the fall. Yet when I spoke to her of

the matter, she answered me abruptly; and in the carriage, on our

way home, she seemed absurdly agitated over this trifling cause."

"Indeed! You say that there was a gentleman in the pew. Some of

the general public were present, then?"

"Oh, yes. It is impossible to exclude them when the church is

open."

"This gentleman was not one of your wife's friends?"

"No, no; I call him a gentleman by courtesy, but he was quite a

common-looking person. I hardly noticed his appearance. But

really I think that we are wandering rather far from the point."

"Lady St. Simon, then, returned from the wedding in a less

cheerful frame of mind than she had gone to it. What did she do

on re-entering her father's house?"

"I saw her in conversation with her maid."

"And who is her maid?"

"Alice is her name. She is an American and came from California

with her."

"A confidential servant?"

"A little too much so. It seemed to me that her mistress allowed

her to take great liberties. Still, of course, in America they

look upon these things in a different way."

"How long did she speak to this Alice?"

"Oh, a few minutes. I had something else to think of."

"You did not overhear what they said?"

"Lady St. Simon said something about 'jumping a claim.' She was

accustomed to use slang of the kind. I have no idea what she

meant."

"American slang is very expressive sometimes. And what did your

wife do when she finished speaking to her maid?"

"She walked into the breakfast-room."

"On your arm?"

"No, alone. She was very independent in little matters like that.

Then, after we had sat down for ten minutes or so, she rose

hurriedly, muttered some words of apology, and left the room. She

never came back."

"But this maid, Alice, as I understand, deposes that she went to

her room, covered her bride's dress with a long ulster, put on a

bonnet, and went out."

"Quite so. And she was afterwards seen walking into Hyde Park in

company with Flora Millar, a woman who is now in custody, and who

had already made a disturbance at Mr. Doran's house that

morning."

"Ah, yes. I should like a few particulars as to this young lady,

and your relations to her."

Lord St. Simon shrugged his shoulders and raised his eyebrows.

"We have been on a friendly footing for some years--I may say on

a very friendly footing. She used to be at the Allegro. I have

not treated her ungenerously, and she had no just cause of

complaint against me, but you know what women are, Mr. Holmes.

Flora was a dear little thing, but exceedingly hot-headed and

devotedly attached to me. She wrote me dreadful letters when she

heard that I was about to be married, and, to tell the truth, the

reason why I had the marriage celebrated so quietly was that I

feared lest there might be a scandal in the church. She came to

Mr. Doran's door just after we returned, and she endeavored to

push her way in, uttering very abusive expressions towards my

wife, and even threatening her, but I had foreseen the

possibility of something of the sort, and I had two police

fellows there in private clothes, who soon pushed her out again.

She was quiet when she saw that there was no good in making a

row."

"Did your wife hear all this?"

"No, thank goodness, she did not."

"And she was seen walking with this very woman afterwards?"

"Yes. That is what Mr. Lestrade, of Scotland Yard, looks upon as

so serious. It is thought that Flora decoyed my wife out and laid

some terrible trap for her."

"Well, it is a possible supposition."

"You think so, too?"

"I did not say a probable one. But you do not yourself look upon

this as likely?"

"I do not think Flora would hurt a fly."

"Still, jealousy is a strange transformer of characters. Pray

what is your own theory as to what took place?"

"Well, really, I came to seek a theory, not to propound one. I

have given you all the facts. Since you ask me, however, I may

say that it has occurred to me as possible that the excitement of

this affair, the consciousness that she had made so immense a

social stride, had the effect of causing some little nervous

disturbance in my wife."

"In short, that she had become suddenly deranged?"

"Well, really, when I consider that she has turned her back--I

will not say upon me, but upon so much that many have aspired to

without success--I can hardly explain it in any other fashion."

"Well, certainly that is also a conceivable hypothesis," said

Holmes, smiling. "And now, Lord St. Simon, I think that I have

nearly all my data. May I ask whether you were seated at the

breakfast-table so that you could see out of the window?"

"We could see the other side of the road and the Park."

"Quite so. Then I do not think that I need to detain you longer.

I shall communicate with you."

"Should you be fortunate enough to solve this problem," said our

client, rising.

"I have solved it."