ead sunk on his hands, the very image of distress.
I could tell by my companion's graver face that he also had seen.

"I fear there is some dark ending to our quest," said he. "It cannot
be long before we know it. Come, Pompey! Ah, it is the cottage in the
field!"

There could be no doubt that we had reached the end of our journey.
Pompey ran about and whined eagerly outside the gate, where the marks
of the brougham's wheels were still to be seen. A footpath led across
to the lonely cottage. Holmes tied the dog to the hedge, and we hastened
onward. My friend knocked at the little rustic door, and knocked again
without response. And yet the cottage was not deserted, for a low
sound came to our ears--a kind of drone of misery and despair which was
indescribably melancholy. Holmes paused irresolute, and then he glanced
back at the road which he had just traversed. A brougham was coming down
it, and there could be no mistaking those gray horses.

"By Jove, the doctor is coming back!" cried Holmes. "That settles it. We
are bound to see what it means before he comes."

He opened the door, and we stepped into the hall. The droning sound
swelled louder upon our ears until it became one long, deep wail of
distress. It came from upstairs. Holmes darted up, and I followed him.
He pushed open a half-closed door, and we both stood appalled at the
sight before us.

A woman, young and beautiful, was lying dead upon the bed. Her calm pale
face, with dim, wide-opened blue eyes, looked upward from amid a great
tangle of golden hair. At the foot of the bed, half sitting, half
kneeling, his face buried in the clothes, was a young man, whose frame
was racked by his sobs. So absorbed was he by his bitter grief, that he
never looked up until Holmes's hand was on his shoulder.

"Are you Mr. Godfrey Staunton?"

"Yes, yes, I am--but you are too late. She is dead."

The man was so dazed that he could not be made to understand that we
were anything but doctors who had been sent to his assistance. Holmes
was endeavouring to utter a few words of consolation and to explain the
alarm which had been caused to his friends by his sudden disappearance
when there was a step upon the stairs, and there was the heavy, stern,
questioning face of Dr. Armstrong at the door.

"So, gentlemen," said he, "you have attained your end and have certainly
chosen a particularly delicate moment for your intrusion. I would not
brawl in the presence of death, but I