The Adventure of the Cardboard Box | Page 7

I shall
set about it by presuming that my reasoning is correct, and that a double murder has been
committed. One of these ears is a woman's, small, finely formed, and pierced for an
earring. The other is a man's, sun-burned, discoloured, and also pierced for an earring.
These two people are presumably dead, or we should have heard their story before now.
To-day is Friday. The packet was posted on Thursday morning. The tragedy, then,
occurred on Wednesday or Tuesday, or earlier. If the two people were murdered, who but

their murderer would have sent this sign of his work to Miss Cushing? We may take it
that the sender of the packet is the man whom we want. But he must have some strong
reason for sending Miss Cushing this packet. What reason then? It must have been to tell
her that the deed was done! or to pain her, perhaps. But in that case she knows who it is.
Does she know? I doubt it. If she knew, why should she cal the police in? She might have
buried the ears, and no one would have been the wiser. That is what she would have done
if she had wished to shield the criminal. But if she does not wish to shield him she would
give his name. There is a tangle here which needs straightening to." He had been talking
in a high, quick voice, staring blankly up over the garden fence, but now he sprang
briskly to his feet and walked towards the house.
"I have a few questions to ask Miss Cushing," said he.
"In that case I may leave you here," said Lestrade, "for I have another small business on
hand. I think that I have nothing further to learn form Miss Cushing. You will find me at
the police-station."
"We shall look in on our way to the train," answered Holmes. A moment later he and I
were back in the front room, where the impassive lady was still quietly working away at
her antimacassar. She put it down on her lap as we entered and looked at us with her
frank, searching blue eyes.
"I am convinced, sir," she said, "that this matter is a mistake, and that the parcel was
never meant for me at all. I have said this several times to the gentlemen from Scotland
Yard, but he simply laughs at me. I have not an enemy in the world, as far as I know, so
why should anyone play me such a trick?"
"I am coming to be of the same opinion, Miss Cushing," said Holmes, taking a seat
beside her. "I think that it is more than probable--" He paused, and I was surprised, on
glancing round to see that he was staring with singular intentness at the lady's profile.
Surprise and satisfaction were both for an instant to be read upon his eager face, though
when she glanced round to find out the cause of his silence he had become as demure as
ever. I stared hard myself at her flat, grizzled hair, her trim cap, her little gilt earrings, her
placid features; but I could see nothing which could account for my companion's evident
excitement.
"There were one or two questions--"
"Oh, I am weary of questions!" cried Miss Cushing impatiently.
"You have two sisters, I believe."
"How could you know that?"
"I observed the very instant that I entered the room that you have a portrait group of three
ladies upon the mantelpiece, one of whom is undoubtedly yourself, while the others are
so exceedingly like you that there could be no doubt of the relationship."
"Yes, you are quite right. Those are my sisters, Sarah and Mary."
"And here at my elbow is another portrait, taken at Liverpool, of your younger sister, in
the company of a man who appears to be a steward by his uniform. I observe that she was
unmarried at the time."
"You are very quick at observing."
"That is my trade."
"Well, you are quite right. But she was married to Mr. Browner a few days afterwards.
He was on the South American line when that was taken, but he was so fond of her that
he couldn't abide to leave her for so long, and he got into the Liverpool and London

boats."
"Ah, the Conqueror, perhaps?"
"No, the May Day, when last I heard. Jim came down here to see me once. That was
before he broke the pledge; but afterwards he would always take drink when he was
ashore, and a little drink would send him stark, staring mad. Ah! it was a bad day that
ever he took a glass in his hand again. First he dropped me, then he quarrelled with Sarah,
and now