XII.THE ADVENTURE OF THE COPPER BEECHES

“Tothemanwholovesartforitsownsake,”remarkedSherlockHolmes,tossingasidetheadvertisementsheetofTheDailyTelegraph,“itisfrequentlyinitsleastimportantandlowliestmanifestationsthatthekeenestpleasureistobederived.Itispleasanttometoobserve,Watson,thatyouhavesofargraspedthistruththatintheselittlerecordsofourcaseswhichyouhavebeengoodenoughtodrawup,and,Iamboundtosay,occasionallytoembellish,youhavegivenprominencenotsomuchtothemanycausescélèbresandsensationaltrialsinwhichIhavefiguredbutrathertothoseincidentswhichmayhavebeentrivialinthemselves,butwhichhavegivenroomforthosefacultiesofdeductionandoflogicalsynthesiswhichIhavemademyspecialprovince.” “Andyet,”saidI,smiling,“Icannotquiteholdmyselfabsolvedfromthechargeofsensationalismwhichhasbeenurgedagainstmyrecords.” “Youhaveerred,perhaps,”heobserved,takingupaglowingcinderwiththetongsandlightingwithitthelongcherry-woodpipewhichwaswonttoreplacehisclaywhenhewasinadisputatiousratherthanameditativemood—“youhaveerredperhapsinattemptingtoputcolourandlifeintoeachofyourstatementsinsteadofconfiningyourselftothetaskofplacinguponrecordthatseverereasoningfromcausetoeffectwhichisreallytheonlynotablefeatureaboutthething.” “ItseemstomethatIhavedoneyoufulljusticeinthematter,”Iremarkedwithsomecoldness,forIwasrepelledbytheegotismwhichIhadmorethanonceobservedtobeastrongfactorinmyfriend’ssingularcharacter. “No,itisnotselfishnessorconceit,”saidhe,answering,aswashiswont,mythoughtsratherthanmywords.“IfIclaimfulljusticeformyart,itisbecauseitisanimpersonalthing—athingbeyondmyself.Crimeiscommon.Logicisrare.Thereforeitisuponthelogicratherthanuponthecrimethatyoushoulddwell.Youhavedegradedwhatshouldhavebeenacourseoflecturesintoaseriesoftales.” Itwasacoldmorningoftheearlyspring,andwesatafterbreakfastoneithersideofacheeryfireintheoldroomatBakerStreet.Athickfogrolleddownbetweenthelinesofdun-colouredhouses,andtheopposingwindowsloomedlikedark,shapelessblursthroughtheheavyyellowwreaths.Ourgaswaslitandshoneonthewhiteclothandglimmerofchinaandmetal,forthetablehadnotbeenclearedyet.SherlockHolmeshadbeensilentallthemorning,dippingcontinuouslyintotheadvertisementcolumnsofasuccessionofpapersuntilatlast,havingapparentlygivenuphissearch,hehademergedinnoverysweettempertolecturemeuponmyliteraryshortcomings. “Atthesametime,”heremarkedafterapause,duringwhichhehadsatpuffingathislongpipeandgazingdownintothefire,“youcanhardlybeopentoachargeofsensationalism,foroutofthesecaseswhichyouhavebeensokindastointerestyourselfin,afairproportiondonottreatofcrime,initslegalsense,atall.ThesmallmatterinwhichIendeavouredtohelptheKingofBohemia,thesingularexperienceofMissMarySutherland,theproblemconnectedwiththemanwiththetwistedlip,andtheincidentofthenoblebachelor,wereallmatterswhichareoutsidethepaleofthelaw.Butinavoidingthesensational,Ifearthatyoumayhaveborderedonthetrivial.” “Theendmayhavebeenso,”Ianswered,“butthemethodsIholdtohavebeennovelandofinterest.” “Pshaw,mydearfellow,whatdothepublic,thegreatunobservantpublic,whocouldhardlytellaweaverbyhistoothoracompositorbyhisleftthumb,careaboutthefinershadesofanalysisanddeduction!But,indeed,ifyouaretrivial,Icannotblameyou,forthedaysofthegreatcasesarepast.Man,oratleastcriminalman,haslostallenterpriseandoriginality.Astomyownlittlepractice,itseemstobedegeneratingintoanagencyforrecoveringlostleadpencilsandgivingadvicetoyoungladiesfromboarding-schools.IthinkthatIhavetouchedbottomatlast,however.ThisnoteIhadthismorningmarksmyzero-point,Ifancy.Readit!”Hetossedacrumpledletteracrosstome. ItwasdatedfromMontaguePlaceupontheprecedingevening,andranthus: “DEARMR.HOLMES,—IamveryanxioustoconsultyouastowhetherIshouldorshouldnotacceptasituationwhichhasbeenofferedtomeasgoverness.Ishallcallathalf-pasttento-morrowifIdonotinconvenienceyou.Yoursfaithfully, “VIOLETHUNTER.” “Doyouknowtheyounglady?”Iasked. “NotI.” “Itishalf-pasttennow.” “Yes,andIhavenodoubtthatisherring.” “Itmayturnouttobeofmoreinterestthanyouthink.Yourememberthattheaffairofthebluecarbuncle,whichappearedtobeamerewhimatfirst,developedintoaseriousinvestigation.Itmaybesointhiscase,also.” “Well,letushopeso.Butourdoubtswillverysoonbesolved,forhere,unlessIammuchmistaken,isthepersoninquestion.” Ashespokethedooropenedandayoungladyenteredtheroom.Shewasplainlybutneatlydressed,withabright,quickface,freckledlikeaplover’segg,andwiththebriskmannerofawomanwhohashadherownwaytomakeintheworld. “Youwillexcusemytroublingyou,Iamsure,”saidshe,asmycompanionrosetogreether,“butIhavehadaverystrangeexperience,andasIhavenoparentsorrelationsofanysortfromwhomIcouldaskadvice,IthoughtthatperhapsyouwouldbekindenoughtotellmewhatIshoulddo.” “Praytakeaseat,MissHunter.IshallbehappytodoanythingthatIcantoserveyou.” IcouldseethatHolmeswasfavourablyimpressedbythemannerandspeechofhisnewclient.Helookedheroverinhissearchingfashion,andthencomposedhimself,withhislidsdroopingandhisfinger-tipstogether,tolistentoherstory. “Ihavebeenagovernessforfiveyears,”saidshe,“inthefamilyofColonelSpenceMunro,buttwomonthsagothecolonelreceivedanappointmentatHalifax,inNovaScotia,andtookhischildrenovertoAmericawithhim,sothatIfoundmyselfwithoutasituation.Iadvertised,andIansweredadvertisements,butwithoutsuccess.AtlastthelittlemoneywhichIhadsavedbegantorunshort,andIwasatmywit’sendastowhatIshoulddo. “Thereisawell-knownagencyforgovernessesintheWestEndcalledWestaway’s,andthereIusedtocallaboutonceaweekinordertoseewhetheranythinghadturnedupwhichmightsuitme.Westawaywasthenameofthefounderofthebusiness,butitisreallymanagedbyMissStoper.Shesitsinherownlittleoffice,andtheladieswhoareseekingemploymentwaitinananteroom,andarethenshowninonebyone,whensheconsultsherledgersandseeswhethershehasanythingwhichwouldsuitthem. “Well,whenIcalledlastweekIwasshownintothelittleofficeasusual,butIfoundthatMissStoperwasnotalone.Aprodigiouslystoutmanwithaverysmilingfaceandagreatheavychinwhichrolleddowninfolduponfoldoverhisthroatsatatherelbowwithapairofglassesonhisnose,lookingveryearnestlyattheladieswhoentered.AsIcameinhegavequiteajumpinhischairandturnedquicklytoMissStoper. “‘Thatwilldo,’saidhe‘Icouldnotaskforanythingbetter.Capital!capital!’Heseemedquiteenthusiasticandrubbedhishandstogetherinthemostgenialfashion.Hewassuchacomfortable-lookingmanthatitwasquiteapleasuretolookathim. “‘Youarelookingforasituation,miss?’heasked. “‘Yes,sir.’ “‘Asgoverness?’ “‘Yes,sir.’ “‘Andwhatsalarydoyouask?’ “‘Ihad￡4amonthinmylastplacewithColonelSpenceMunro.’ “‘Oh,tut,tut!sweating—ranksweating!’hecried,throwinghisfathandsoutintotheairlikeamanwhoisinaboilingpassion.‘Howcouldanyoneoffersopitifulasumtoaladywithsuchattractionsandaccomplishments?’ “‘Myaccomplishments,sir,maybelessthanyouimagine,’saidI.‘AlittleFrench,alittleGerman,music,anddrawing—’ “‘Tut,tut!’hecried.‘Thisisallquitebesidethequestion.Thepointis,haveyouorhaveyounotthebearinganddeportmentofalady?Thereitisinanutshell.Ifyouhavenot,youarenotfittedfortherearingofachildwhomaysomedayplayaconsiderablepartinthehistoryofthecountry.Butifyouhavewhy,then,howcouldanygentlemanaskyoutocondescendtoacceptanythingunderthethreefigures?Yoursalarywithme,madam,wouldcommenceat￡100ayear.’ “Youmayimagine,Mr.Holmes,thattome,destituteasIwas,suchanofferseemedalmosttoogoodtobetrue.Thegentleman,however,seeingperhapsthelookofincredulityuponmyface,openedapocket-bookandtookoutanote. “‘Itisalsomycustom,’saidhe,smilinginthemostpleasantfashionuntilhiseyeswerejusttwolittleshiningslitsamidthewhitecreasesofhisface,‘toadvancetomyyoungladieshalftheirsalarybeforehand,sothattheymaymeetanylittleexpensesoftheirjourneyandtheirwardrobe.’ “ItseemedtomethatIhadnevermetsofascinatingandsothoughtfulaman.AsIwasalreadyindebttomytradesmen,theadvancewasagreatconvenience,andyettherewassomethingunnaturalaboutthewholetransactionwhichmademewishtoknowalittlemorebeforeIquitecommittedmyself. “‘MayIaskwhereyoulive,sir?’saidI. “‘Hampshire.Charmingruralplace.TheCopperBeeches,fivemilesonthefarsideofWinchester.Itisthemostlovelycountry,mydearyounglady,andthedearestoldcountry-house.’ “‘Andmyduties,sir?Ishouldbegladtoknowwhattheywouldbe.’ “‘Onechild—onedearlittleromperjustsixyearsold.Oh,ifyoucouldseehimkillingcockroacheswithaslipper!Smack!smack!smack!Threegonebeforeyoucouldwink!’Heleanedbackinhischairandlaughedhiseyesintohisheadagain. “Iwasalittlestartledatthenatureofthechild’samusement,butthefather’slaughtermademethinkthatperhapshewasjoking. “‘Mysoleduties,then,’Iasked,‘aretotakechargeofasinglechild?’ “‘No,no,notthesole,notthesole,mydearyounglady,’hecried.‘Yourdutywouldbe,asIamsureyourgoodsensewouldsuggest,toobeyanylittlecommandsmywifemightgive,providedalwaysthattheyweresuchcommandsasaladymightwithproprietyobey.Youseenodifficulty,heh?’ “‘Ishouldbehappytomakemyselfuseful.’ “‘Quiteso.Indressnow,forexample.Wear