ah, that's the question, of course. but i commend the idea to

your mind. you might possibly find that there was something in it.

you won't stop for dinner? well, good-bye, and let us know

how you get on."

dinner was over and the table cleared before holmes alluded to the

matter again. he had lit his pipe and held his slippered feet to

the cheerful blaze of the fire. suddenly he looked at his watch.

"i expect developments, watson."

"when?"

"now -- within a few minutes. i dare say you thought i acted

rather badly to stanley hopkins just now?"

"i trust your judgment."

"a very sensible reply, watson. you must look at it this way:

what i know is unofficial; what he knows is official. i have the

right to private judgment, but he has none. he must disclose all,

or he is a traitor to his service. in a doubtful case i would not

put him in so painful a position, and so i reserve my information

until my own mind is clear upon the matter."

"but when will that be?"

"the time has come. you will now be present at the last scene of

a remarkable little drama."

there was a sound upon the stairs, and our door was opened to

admit as fine a specimen of manhood as ever passed through it.

he was a very tall young man, golden-moustached, blue-eyed, with a

skin which had been burned by tropical suns, and a springy step

which showed that the huge frame was as active as it was strong.

he closed the door behind him, and then he stood with clenched

hands and heaving breast, choking down some overmastering emotion.

"sit down, captain croker. you got my telegram?"

our visitor sank into an arm-chair and looked from one to the

other of us with questioning eyes.

"i got your telegram, and i came at the hour you said. i heard

that you had been down to the office. there was no getting away

from you. let's hear the worst. what are you going to do with

me? arrest me? speak out, man! you can't sit there and play

with me like a cat with a mouse."

"give him a cigar," said holmes. "bite on that, captain croker,

and don't let your nerves run away with you. i should not sit

here smoking with you if i thought that you were a common

criminal, you may be sure of that. be frank with me, and we may

do some good. play tricks with me, and i'll crush you."

"what do you wish me to do?"

"to give me a true account of all that happened at the abbey

grange last night -- a _true_ account, mind you, with nothing

added and nothing taken off. i know so much already that if you

go one inch off the straight i'll blow this police whistle from my

window and the affair goes out of my hands for ever."

the sailor thought for a little. then he struck his leg with his

great, sun-burned hand.

"i'll chance it," he cried. "i believe you are a man of your

word, and a white man, and i'll tell you the whole story. but one

thing i will say first. so far as i am concerned i regret nothing

and i fear nothing, and i would do it all again and be proud of

the job. curse the beast, if he had as many lives as a cat he

would owe them all to me! but it's the lady, mary -- mary fraser

-- for never will i call her by that accursed name. when i think

of getting her into trouble, i who would give my life just to

bring one smile to her dear face, it's that that turns my soul

into water. and yet -- and yet -- what less could i do? i'll

tell you my story, gentlemen, and then i'll ask you as man to man

what less could i do.

"i must go back a bit. you seem to know everything, so i expect

that you know that i met her when she was a passenger and i was

first officer of the _rock of gibraltar_. from the first day i

met her she was the only woman to me. every day of that voyage i

loved her more, and many a time since have i kneeled down in the

darkness of the night watch and kissed the deck of that ship

because i knew her dear feet had trod it. she was never engaged

to me. she treated me as fairly as ever a woman treated a man.

i have no complaint to make. it was all love on my side, and all

good comradeship and friendship on hers. when we parted she was a

free woman, but i could never again be a free man.

"next time i came back from sea i heard of her marriage. well,

why shouldn't she marry whom she liked? title and money -- who

could carry them better than she? she was born for all that is

beautiful and dainty. i didn't grieve over her marriage. i was

not such a selfish hound as that. i just rejoiced that good luck

had come her way, and that she had not thrown herself away on a

penniless sailor. that's how i loved mary fraser.

"well, i never thought to see her again; but last voyage i was

promoted, and the new boat was not yet launched, so i had to wait

for a couple of months with my people at sydenham. one day out in

a country lane i met theresa wright, her old maid. she to