nothing of it. You may go to any expense which you think necessary. I have already offered a reward of £1000. My God, what shall I do! I have lost my honor, my gems, and my son in one night. Oh, what shall I do!"
He put a hand on either side of his head, and rocked himself to and fro, droning to himself like a child whose grief has got beyond words.
Sherlock Holmes sat silent for some few minutes, with his brows knitted and his eyes fixed upon the fire.
"Do you receive much company?" he asked.
"None, save my partner with his family, and an occasional friend of Arthur's. Sir George Burnwell has been several times lately. No one else, I think."
"Do you go out much in society?"
"Arthur does. Mary and I stay at home. We neither of us care for it."
"That is unusual in a young girl."
"She is of a quiet nature. Besides, she is not so very young. She is four-and-twenty."
"This matter, from what you say, seems to have been a shock to her also."
"Terrible! She is even more affected than I."
"You have neither of you any doubt as to your son's guilt?"
"How can we have, when I saw him with my own eyes with the coronet in his hands."
"I hardly consider that a conclusive proof. Was the remainder of the coronet at all injured?"
"Yes, it was twisted."
"Do you not think, then, that he might have been trying to straighten it?"
"God bless you! You are doing what you can for him and for me. But it is too heavy a task. What was he doing there at all? If his purpose were innocent, why did he not say so?"
"Precisely. And if it were guilty, why did he not invent a lie? His silence appears to me to cut both ways. There are
