The Adventure of the Abbey Grange - Page 2

inspection.
A mere suicide would not have caused him to send for me. As to
the release of the lady, it would appear that she has been
locked in her room during the tragedy. We are moving in high
life, Watson, crackling paper, 'E.B.' monogram, coat-of-arms,
picturesque address. I think that friend Hopkins will live up to
his reputation, and that we shall have an interesting morning.
The crime was committed before twelve last night."

"How can you possibly tell?"

"By an inspection of the trains, and by reckoning the time. The
local police had to be called in, they had to communicate with
Scotland Yard, Hopkins had to go out, and he in turn had to send
for me. All that makes a fair night's work. Well, here we are at
Chiselhurst Station, and we shall soon set our doubts at rest."

A drive of a couple of miles through narrow country lanes
brought us to a park gate, which was opened for us by an old
lodge-keeper, whose haggard face bore the reflection of some
great disaster. The avenue ran through a noble park, between
lines of ancient elms, and ended in a low, widespread house,
pillared in front after the fashion of Palladio. The central
part was evidently of a great age and shrouded in ivy, but the
large windows showed that modern changes had been carried out,
and one wing of the house appeared to be entirely new. The
youthful figure and alert, eager face of Inspector Stanley
Hopkins confronted us in the open doorway.

"I'm very glad you have come, Mr. Holmes. And you, too, Dr.
Watson. But, indeed, if I had my time over again, I should not
have troubled you, for since the lady has come to herself, she
has given so clear an account of the affair that there is not much
left for us to do. You remember that Lewisham gang of burglars?"

"What, the three Randalls?"

"Exactly; the father and two sons. It's their work. I have not
a doubt of it. They did a job at Sydenham a fortnight ago and
were seen and described. Rather cool to do another so soon and
so near, but it is they, beyond all doubt. It's a hanging matter
this time."

"Sir Eustace is dead, then?"

"Yes, his head was knocked in with his own poker."

"Sir Eustace Brackenstall, the driver tells me."

"Exactly--one of the richest men in Kent--Lady Brackenstall is
in the morning-room. Poor lady, she has had a most dreadful
experience. She seemed half dead when I saw her first. I think
you had best see her and hear her account of the facts. Then we
will examine the dining-room together."

Lady Brackenstall was no ordinary person. Seldom have I seen so
graceful a figure, so womanly a presence, and so beautiful a
face. She was a blonde, golden-haired, blue-eyed, and would no
doubt