The Adventure at Baskerville Hall & Other Cases

whole-hearted response from Holmes, even before he had heard her story, was a rather abrupt volte-face from that morning's brusque dismissal.
    "There have been some very strange happenings," Mrs. Maberley began. "I have been in this house more than a year now, and as I wished to lead a retired life I have seen little of my neighbours. Three days ago I had a call from a man who said that he was a house agent. He said that this house would exactly suit a client of his, and that if I would part with it money would be no object. It seemed to me very strange as there are several empty houses on the market, which appear to be equally eligible, but naturally I was interested in what he said. I therefore named a price, which was five hundred pounds more than I gave. He at once closed with the offer, but added that his client desired to buy the furniture as well and would I put a price upon it. Some of this furniture is from my old home, and it is, as you see, very good, so that I named a good round sum. To this also he at once agreed. I had always wanted to travel, and the bargain was so good a one that it really seemed that I should be my own mistress for the rest of my life.
    "Yesterday the man arrived with the agreement all drawn out. Luckily I showed it to Mr. Sutro, my lawyer, who lives in Harrow. He said to me, 'This is a very strange document. Are you aware that if you sign it you could not legally take anything out of the house – not even your own private possessions?' When the man came again in the evening I pointed this out, and I said that I meant only to sell the furniture.
    " 'No, no, everything,' said he.
    " 'But my clothes? My jewels?'
    " 'Well, well, some concession might be made for your personal effects. But nothing shall go out of the house unchecked. My client is a very liberal man, but he has his fads and his own way of doing things. It is everything or nothing with him.'
    " 'Then it must be nothing,' said I. And there the matter was left, but the whole thing seemed to me to be so unusual that I thought–"
    Here we had a very extraordinary interruption.
    Holmes raised his hand for silence. Then he strode across the room, flung open the door, and dragged in a great gaunt woman whom he had seized by the shoulder. She entered with ungainly struggle like some huge awkward chicken, torn, squawking, out of its coop.
    "Susan!" Mrs. Maberley exclaimed, shocked. "What is the meaning of this?"
    "Well, ma'am, I was coming in to ask if the visitors were staying for lunch when this man jumped out at me."
    "I have been listening to her for the last five minutes, but did not wish to interrupt your most interesting narrative," Holmes said. "Just a little wheezy, Susan, are you not? You breathe too heavily for that kind of work."
    Susan turned a sulky but amazed face upon her captor. "Who be you, anyhow, and what right have you to be pulling me about like this?"
    "It was merely that I wished to ask a question in your presence. Did you, Mrs. Maberley, mention to anyone that you were going to write to me and consult me?"
    I did not catch the lady's reply, for while Holmes had been interrogating the housekeeper with his habitual acerbic manner, my attention had been caught by a framed photograph on the mantelpiece and I drifted over to examine it.
    I did not need to see the black twist of crepe on the frame to deduce that this must be Douglas Maberley. The photograph had been taken outdoors – in the distance behind the standing figure I recognised the magnificent, towering shape of the Colosseum. In Rome, then, doubtless taken by one of the photographers who made their living taking souvenir photographs for tourists. The young man was dressed in a pale linen suit and a straw boater, one hand on his hip, the other loosely clasping a cane, showing that it was a nod towards style rather than my own more compulsory means of support. He was tall and broad-shouldered, every line of him radiating health and vitality, and Holmes had spoken the truth when he said he was a magnificent creature. He gazed straight at the photographer, a ready smile lighting up his handsome face, and I was forced to admit to myself that in the whole of my extensive, yet necessarily discreet, experiences with other men, I had rarely seen anyone to surpass his physical charms. If Holmes had known this fellow as intimately as I suspected, then they must have made an absurdly striking couple.
    "My son, Douglas." Mrs. Maberley had appeared at my elbow,