should ask his leave, as he was only a few years older than me; but I didnât want to do anything on the sly, so I wrote to father at Bordeaux,where the company has its French offices, but the letter came back to me on the very morning of the wedding.â
âIt missed him then?â
âYes, sir, for he had started to England just before it arrived.â
âHa! that was unfortunate. Your wedding was arranged, then, for the Friday. Was it to be in church?â
âYes, sir, but very quietly. It was to be at St Saviourâs near Kingâs Cross, 7 and we were to have breakfast afterwards at the St Pancras Hotel. 8 Hosmer came for us in a hansom, but as there were two of us, he put us both into it, and stepped himself into a four-wheeler which happened to be the only other cab in the street. We got to the church first, and when the four-wheeler drove up we waited for him to step out, but he never did, and when the cabman got down from the box and looked, there was no one there! The cabman said he could not imagine what had become of him, for he had seen him get in with his own eyes. That was last Friday, Mr Holmes, and I have never seen or heard anything since then to throw any light upon what became of him.â
âIt seems to me that you have been very shamefully treated,â said Holmes.
âOh no, sir! He was too good and kind to leave me so. Why, all the morning he was saying to me that, whatever happened, I was to be true; and that even if something quite unforeseen occurred to separate us, I was always to remember that I was pledged to him, and that he would claim his pledge sooner or later. It seemed strange talk for a wedding morning, but what has happened since gives a meaning to it.â
âMost certainly it does. Your own opinion is, then, that some unforeseen catastrophe has occurred to him?â
âYes, sir. I believe that he foresaw some danger, or else he would not have talked so. And then I think that what he foresaw happened.â
âBut you have no notion as to what it could have been?â
âNone.â
âOne more question. How did your mother take the matter?â
âShe was angry, and said that I was never to speak of the matter again.â
âAnd your father? Did you tell him?â
âYes, and he seemed to think, with me, that something had happened, and that I should hear of Hosmer again. As he said, what interest could anyone have in bringing me to the doors of the church, and then leaving me? Now, if he had borrowed my money, or if he had married me and got my money settled on him, there might be some reason; but Hosmer was very independent about money, and never would look at a shilling of mine. And yet what could have happened? And why could he not write? Oh, it drives me half mad to think of it! and I canât sleep a wink at night.â She pulled a little handkerchief out of her muff, and began to sob heavily into it.
âI shall glance into the case for you,â said Holmes, rising, âand I have no doubt that we shall reach some definite result. Let the weight of the matter rest upon me now, and do not let your mind dwell upon it further. Above all, try to let Mr Hosmer Angel vanish from your memory, as he has done from your life.â
âThen you donât think Iâll see him again?â
âI fear not.â
âThen what has happened to him?â
âYou will leave that question in my hands. I should like an accurate description of him, and any letters of his which you can spare.â
âI advertised for him in last Saturdayâs
Chronicle
,â said she. âHere is the slip, and here are four letters from him.â
âThank you. And your address?â
â31 Lyon Place, Camberwell.â 9
âMr Angelâs address you never had, I understand. Where is your fatherâs place of business?â
âHe travels for Westhouse & Marbank, the great claret
Barbara Samuel, Ruth Wind