Datasets:
elapt1c
/
ElapticAI-512

Dataset card Data Studio Files
xet
 Community
1
Search is not available for this dataset
text
stringlengths
0
149M
proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to have one.
“Then it was not Arthur who took them?
“I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not.
“You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him know
that the truth is known.
“He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an interview
with him, and finding that he would not tell me the story, I told it to
him, on which he had to confess that I was right and to add the very
few details which were not yet quite clear to me. Your news of this
morning, however, may open his lips.
“For Heaven’s sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary mystery!
“I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached it. And
let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me to say and
for you to hear: there has been an understanding between Sir George
Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now fled together.
“My Mary? Impossible!
“It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither you nor
your son knew the true character of this man when you admitted him into
your family circle. He is one of the most dangerous men in England—a
ruined gambler, an absolutely desperate villain, a man without heart or
conscience. Your niece knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his
vows to her, as he had done to a hundred before her, she flattered
herself that she alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what
he said, but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of
seeing him nearly every evening.
“I cannot, and I will not, believe it! cried the banker with an ashen
face.
“I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night. Your
niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room, slipped down
and talked to her lover through the window which leads into the stable
lane. His footmarks had pressed right through the snow, so long had he
stood there. She told him of the coronet. His wicked lust for gold
kindled at the news, and he bent her to his will. I have no doubt that
she loved you, but there are women in whom the love of a lover
extinguishes all other loves, and I think that she must have been one.
She had hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you coming
downstairs, on which she closed the window rapidly and told you about
one of the servants’ escapade with her wooden-legged lover, which was
all perfectly true.
“Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview with you but he
slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts. In the
middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door, so he rose
and, looking out, was surprised to see his cousin walking very
stealthily along the passage until she disappeared into your
dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment, the lad slipped on some
clothes and waited there in the dark to see what would come of this
strange affair. Presently she emerged from the room again, and in the
light of the passage-lamp your son saw that she carried the precious
coronet in her hands. She passed down the stairs, and he, thrilling
with horror, ran along and slipped behind the curtain near your door,
whence he could see what passed in the hall beneath. He saw her
stealthily open the window, hand out the coronet to someone in the
gloom, and then closing it once more hurry back to her room, passing
quite close to where he stood hid behind the curtain.
“As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action without a
horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the instant that she
was gone he realised how crushing a misfortune this would be for you,
and how all-important it was to set it right. He rushed down, just as
he was, in his bare feet, opened the window, sprang out into the snow,
and ran down the lane, where he could see a dark figure in the
moonlight. Sir George Burnwell tried to get away, but Arthur caught
him, and there was a struggle between them, your lad tugging at one
side of the coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the scuffle,
your son struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something
suddenly snapped, and your son, finding that he had the coronet in his
hands, rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your room, and had
just observed that the coronet had been twisted in the struggle and was
endeavouring to straighten it when you appeared upon the scene.
“Is it possible? gasped the banker.
“You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when he
felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not explain the
true state of affairs without betraying one who certainly deserved
little enough consideration at his hands. He took the more chivalrous
view, however, and preserved her secret.
“And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the coronet,
cried Mr. Holder. “Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have been! And his
asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes! The dear fellow wanted
to see if the missing piece were at the scene of the struggle. How
cruelly I have misjudged him!
“When I arrived at the house, continued Holmes, “I at once went very
carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in the snow
which might help me. I knew that none had fallen since the evening
before, and also that there had been a strong frost to preserve
impressions. I passed along the tradesmen’s path, but found it all