“By Jove!” he cried. “You don’t mean that Baynes has got him?”

“Apparently,” said I as I read the following report:

“Great excitement was caused in Esher and the neighbouring district when it was learned late last night that an

arrest had been effected in connection with the Oxshott

murder. It will be remembered that Mr. Garcia, of Wisteria Lodge, was found dead on Oxshott Common, his body

showing signs of extreme violence, and that on the same

night his servant and his cook fled, which appeared to show

their participation in the crime. It was suggested, but never

proved, that the deceased gentleman may have had valuables in the house, and that their abstraction was the motive

of the crime. Every effort was made by Inspector Baynes,

who has the case in hand, to ascertain the hiding place of

the fugitives, and he had good reason to believe that they

had not gone far but were lurking in some retreat which had

been already prepared. It was certain from the first, however, that they would eventually be detected, as the cook,

from the evidence of one or two tradespeople who have

caught a glimpse of him through the window, was a man of

most remarkable appearance — being a huge and hideous

mulatto, with yellowish features of a pronounced negroid

type. This man has been seen since the crime, crime for he was

detected and pursued by Constable Walters on the same

evening, when he had the audacity to revisit Wisteria Lodge.

Inspector Baynes, considering that such a visit must have

some purpose in view and was likely, therefore, to be

repeated, abandoned the house but left an ambuscade in the

shrubbery. The man walked into the trap and was captured

last night after a struggle in which Constable Downing was

badly bitten by the savage. We understand that when the

prisoner is brought before the magistrates a remand will be

applied for by the police, and that great developments are

hoped from his capture.”

“Really we must see Baynes at once,” cried Holmes, picking up his hat. “We will just catch him before he starts.” We hurried down the village street and found, as we had expected, that the inspector was just leaving his lodgings.

“You’ve seen the paper, Mr. Holmes?” he asked, holding one out to us.

“Yes, Baynes, I’ve seen it. Pray don’t think it a liberty if I give you a word of friendly warning.”

“Of warning, Mr. Holmes?”

“I have looked into this case with some care, and I am not convinced that you are on the right lines. I don’t want you to commit yourself too far unless you are sure.”

“You’re very kind, Mr. Holmes.”

“I assure you I speak for your good.”

It seemed to me that something like a wink quivered for an instant over one of Mr. Baynes’s tiny eyes.

“We agreed to work on our own lines, Mr. Holmes. That’s what I am doing.”

‘But if it’s a boy it will be legally your son, and it will inherit your title, and have Wragby.’

‘I care nothing about that,’ he said.

‘But you MUST! I shall prevent the child from being legally yours, if I can. I’d so much rather it were illegitimate, and mine: if it can’t be Mellors’.’

‘Do as you like about that.’

He was immovable.

‘And won’t you divorce me?’ she said. ‘You can use Duncan as a pretext! There’d be no need to bring in the real name. Duncan doesn’t mind.’

‘ I shall never divorce you,’ he said, as if a nail had been driven in.

‘But why? Because I want you to?’

‘Because I follow my own inclination, and I’m not inclined to.’

It was useless. She went upstairs and told Hilda the upshot.

‘Better get away tomorrow,’ said Hilda, ‘and let him come to his senses.’

So Connie spent half the night packing her really private and personal effects. In the morning she had her trunks sent to the station, without telling Clifford. She decided to see him only to say good–bye, before lunch.

But she spoke to Mrs Bolton.

‘I must say good–bye to you, Mrs Bolton, you know why. But I can trust you not to talk.’

‘Oh, you can trust me, your Ladyship, though it’s a sad blow for us here, indeed. But I hope you’ll be happy with the other gentleman.’

‘The other gentleman! It’s Mr Mellors, and I care for him. Sir Clifford knobs. But don’t say anything to anybody. And if one day you think Sir Clifford may be willing to divorce me, let me know, will you? I should like to be properly married to the man I care for.’

‘I’m sure you would, my Lady. Oh, you can trust me. I’ll be faithful to Sir Clifford, and I’ll be faithful to you, for I can see you’re both right in your own ways.’

‘Thank you! And look! I want to give you this—may I?’ So Connie left Wragby once more, and went on with Hilda to Scotland. Mellors went into the country and got work on a farm. The idea was, he should get his divorce, if possible, whether Connie got hers or not. And for six months he should work at farming, so that eventually he and Connie could have some small farm of their own, into which he could put his energy. For he would have to have some work, even hard work, to do, and he would have to make his own living, even if her capital started him.

So they would have to wait till spring was in, till the baby was born, till the early summer came round again.

The Grange Farm Old Heanor 29 September

I got on here with a bit of contriving, because I knew Richards, the company engineer, in the army. It is a farm belonging to Butler and Smitham Colliery Company, they use it for raising hay and oats for the pit–ponies; not a private concern. But they’ve got cows and pigs and all the rest of it, and I get thirty shillings a week as labourer. Rowley, the farmer, puts me on to as many jobs as he can, so that I can learn as much as possible between now and next Easter. I’ve not heard a thing about Bertha. I’ve no idea why she didn’t show up at the divorce, nor where she is nor what she’s up to. But if I keep quiet till March I suppose I shall be free. And don’t you bother about Sir Clifford. He’ll want to get rid of you one of these days. If he leaves you alone, it’s a lot.