“Ha!” Holmes looked grave.  “What does he do for a living?”

“He is a rich man.”

“No carriages or horses?”

“Well, at least he is fairly well-to-do.  But he goes into the city two or three times a week.  He is deeply interested in South African gold shares.”

“You will let me know any fresh development, Miss Smith.  I am very busy just now, but I will find time to make some inquiries into your case.  In the meantime, take no step without letting me know.  Good-bye, and I trust that we shall have nothing but good news from you.”

“It is part of the settled order of Nature that such a girl should have followers,” said Holmes, he pulled at his meditative pipe, “but for choice not on bicycles in lonely country roads.  Some secretive lover, beyond all doubt.  But there are curious and suggestive details about the case, Watson.”

“That he should appear only at that point?”

“Exactly.  Our first effort must be to find who are the tenants of Charlington Hall.  Then, again, how about the connection between Carruthers and Woodley, since they appear to be men of such a different type?  How came they both to be so keen upon looking up Ralph Smith’s relations?  One more point.  What sort of a menage is it which pays double the market price for a governess but does not keep a horse, although six miles from the station?  Odd, Watson—­very odd!”

“You will go down?”

“No, my dear fellow, you will go down.  This may be some trifling intrigue, and I cannot break my other important research for the sake of it.  On Monday you will arrive early at Farnham; you will conceal yourself near Charlington Heath; you will observe these facts for yourself, and act as your own judgment advises.  Then, having inquired as to the occupants of the Hall, you will come back to me and report.  And now, Watson, not another word of the matter until we have a few solid stepping-stones on which we may hope to get across to our solution.”

We had ascertained from the lady that she went down upon the Monday by the train which leaves Waterloo at 9:50, so I started early and caught the 9:13.  At Farnham Station I had no difficulty in being directed to Charlington Heath.  It was impossible to mistake the scene of the young lady’s adventure, for the road runs between the open heath on one side and an old yew hedge upon the other, surrounding a park which is studded with magnificent trees.  There was a main gateway of lichen-studded stone, each side pillar surmounted by mouldering heraldic emblems, but besides this central carriage drive I observed several points where there were gaps in the hedge and paths leading through them.  The house was invisible from the road, but the surroundings all spoke of gloom and decay.