rievous an injury. an assassin
does not come unarmed. horrified by what she had done she
rushed wildly away from the scene of the tragedy.
unfortunately for her she had lost her glasses in the
scuffle, and as she was extremely short-sighted she was
really helpless without them. she ran down a corridor,
which she imagined to be that by which she had come -- both
were lined with cocoanut matting -- and it was only when it
was too late that she understood that she had taken the
wrong passage and that her retreat was cut off behind her.
what was she to do? she could not go back. she could not
remain where she was. she must go on. she went on. she
mounted a stair, pushed open a door, and found herself in
your room."
the old man sat with his mouth open staring wildly at
holmes. amazement and fear were stamped upon his expressive
features. now, with an effort, he shrugged his shoulders
and burst into insincere laughter.
"all very fine, mr. holmes," said he. "but there is one
little flaw in your splendid theory. i was myself in my
room, and i never left it during the day."
"i am aware of that, professor coram."
"and you mean to say that i could lie upon that bed and not
be aware that a woman had entered my room?"
"i never said so. you _were_ aware of it. you spoke with her.
you recognised her. you aided her to escape."
again the professor burst into high-keyed laughter.
he had risen to his feet and his eyes glowed like embers.
"you are mad!" he cried. "you are talking insanely.
i helped her to escape? where is she now?"
"she is there," said holmes, and he pointed to a high
bookcase in the corner of the room.
i saw the old man throw up his arms, a terrible convulsion
passed over his grim face, and he fell back in his chair.
at the same instant the bookcase at which holmes pointed
swung round upon a hinge, and a woman rushed out into the
room. "you are right!" she cried, in a strange foreign
voice. "you are right! i am here."
she was brown with the dust and draped with the cobwebs
which had come from the walls of her hiding-place. her
face, too, was streaked with grime, and at the best she
could never have been handsome, for she had the exact
physical characteristics which holmes had divined, with, in
addition, a long and obstinate chin. what with her natural
blindness, and what with the change from dark to light, she
stood as one dazed, blinking about her to see where and who
we were. and yet, in spite of all these disadvantages,
there was a certain nobility in the woman's bearing, a
gallantry in the defiant chin and in the upraised head,
which compelled something of respect and admiration.
stanley hopkins had laid his hand upon her arm and claimed
her as his prisoner, but she waved him aside gently, and yet
with an overmastering dignity which compelled obedience.
the old man lay back in his chair, with a twitching face,
and stared at her with brooding eyes.
"yes, sir, i am your prisoner," she said. "from where i
stood i could hear everything, and i know that you have
learned the truth. i confess it all. it was i who killed
the young man. but you are right, you who say it was an
accident. i did not even know that it was a knife which i
held in my hand, for in my despair i snatched anything from
the table and struck at him to make him let me go. it is
the truth that i tell."
"madam," said holmes, "i am sure that it is the truth. i
fear that you are far from well."
she had turned a dreadful colour, the more ghastly under the
dark dust-streaks upon her face. she seated herself on the
side of the bed; then she resumed.
"i have only a little time here," she said, "but i would have
you to know the whole truth. i am this man's wife. he is not
an englishman. he is a russian. his name i will not tell."
for the first time the old man stirred. "god bless you,
anna!" he cried. "god bless you!"
she cast a look of the deepest disdain in his direction.
"why should you cling so hard to that wretched life of
yours, sergius?" said she. "it has done harm to many and
good to none -- not even to yourself. however, it is not
for me to cause the frail thread to be snapped before god's
time. i have enough already upon my soul since i crossed
the threshold of this cursed house. but i must speak or i
shall be too late.
"i have said, gentlemen, that i am this man's wife.
he was fifty and i a foolish girl of twenty when we married.
it was in a city of russia, a university -- i will not name
the place."
"god bless you, anna!" murmured the old man again.
"we were reformers -- revolutionists -- nihilists, you
understand. he and i and many more. then there came a time
of trouble, a police officer was killed, many were arrested,
evidence was wanted, and in order to save his own life and
to earn a great reward
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