The Adventure of the Cardboard Box | Page 8

that Mary has stopped writing we don't know how things are going with them."
It was evident that Miss Cushing had come upon a subject on which she felt very deeply.
Like most people who lead a lonely life, she was shy at first, but ended by becoming
extremely communicative. She told us many details about her brother-in-law the steward,
and then wandering off on the subject of her former lodgers, the medical students, she
gave us a long account of their delinquencies, with their names and those of their
hospitals. Holmes listened attentively to everything, throwing in a question from time to
time.
"About your second sister, Sarah," said he. "I wonder, since you are both maiden ladies,
that you do not keep house together."
"Ah! you don't know Sarah's temper or you would wonder no more. I tried it when I came
to Croydon, and we kept on until about two months ago, when we had to part. I don't
want to say a word against my own sister, but she was always meddlesome and hard to
please, was Sarah."
"You say that she quarrelled with your Liverpool relations."
"Yes, and they were the best of friends at one time. Why, she went up there to live in
order to be near them. And now she has no word hard enough for Jim Browner. The last
six months that she was here she would speak of nothing but his drinking and his ways.
He had caught her meddling, I suspect, and given her a bit of his mind, and that was the
start of it."
"Thank you, Miss Cushing," said Holmes, rising and bowing. "Your sister Sarah lives, I
think you said, at New Street, Wallington? Good-bye, and I am very sorry that you
should have been troubled over a case with which, as you say, you have nothing whatever
to do."
There was a cab passing as we came out, and Holmes hailed it.
"How far to Wallington?" he asked.
"Only about a mile, sir."
"Very good. Jump in, Watson. We must strike while the iron is hot. Simple as the case is,
there have been one or two very instructive details in connection with it. Just pull up at a
telegraph office as you pass, cabby."
Holmes sent off a short wire and for the rest of the drive lay back in the cab, with his hat
tilted over his nose to keep the sun from his face. Our drive pulled up at a house which
was not unlike the one which we had just quitted. My companion ordered him to wait,
and had his hand upon the knocker, when the door opened and a grave young gentleman
in black, with a very shiny hat, appeared on the step.
"Is Miss Cushing at home?" asked Holmes.
"Miss Sarah Cushing is extremely ill," said he. "She has been suffering since yesterday
from brain symptoms of great severity. As her medical adviser, I cannot possibly take the
responsibility of allowing anyone to see her. I should recommend you to call again in ten
days." He drew on his gloves, closed the door, and marched off down the street.

"Well, if we can't we can't," said Holmes, cheerfully.
"Perhaps she could not or would not have told you much."
"I did not wish her to tell me anything. I only wanted to look at her. However, I think that
I have got all that I want. Drive us to some decent hotel, cabby, where we may have some
lunch, and afterwards we shall drop down upon friend Lestrade at the police- station."
We had a pleasant little meal together, during which Holmes would talk about nothing
but violins, narrating with great exultation how he had purchased his own Stradivarius,
which was worth at least five hundred guineas, at a Jew broker's in Tottenham Court
Road for fifty-five shillings. This led him to Paganini, and we sat for an hour over a
bottle of claret while he told me anecdote after anecdote of that extraordinary man. The
afternoon was far advanced and the hot glare had softened into a mellow glow before we
found ourselves at the police-station. Lestrade was waiting for us at the door.
"A telegram for you, Mr. Holmes," said he.
"Ha! It is the answer!" He tore it open, glanced his eyes over it, and crumpled it into his
pocket. "That's all right," said he.
"Have you found out anything?"
"I have found out everything!"
"What!" Lestrade stared at him in amazement. "You are joking."
"I was never more serious in my life. A shocking crime has been committed, and I think I
have now laid bare every detail of it."
"And the criminal?"
Holmes scribbled a few words upon the back of one of his visiting