Miss Morstan entered the room with a firm step and an outwardcomposure of manner. She was a blonde young lady, small,dainty, well gloved, and dressed in the most perfect taste. Therewas, however, a plainness and simplicity about her costumewhich bore with it a suggestion of limited means. The dress wasa sombre grayish beige, untrimmed and unbraided, and she worea small turban of the same dull hue, relieved only by a suspicionof white feather in the side. Her face had neither regularity offeature nor beauty of complexion, but her expression was sweetand amiable, and her large blue eyes were singularly spiritualand sympathetic. In an experience of women which extends overmany nations and three separate continents, I have never lookedupon a face which gave a clearer promise of a refined andsensitive nature. I could not but observe that as she took the seatwhich Sherlock Holmes placed for her, her lip trembled, herhand quivered, and she showed every sign of intense inwardagitation.

"I have come to you, Mr. Holmes," she said,"because youonce enabled my employer, Mrs. Cecil Forrester, to unravel alittle domestic complication. She was much impressed by yourkindness and skill."

"Mrs. Cecil Forrester," he repeated thoughtfully. "I believethat I was of some slight service to her. The case, however, as Iremember it, was a very simple one."

"She did not think so. But at least you cannot say the same ofmine. I can hardly imagine anything more strange, more utterlyinexplicable, than the situation in which I find myself."

Holmes rubbed his hands, and his eyes glistened. He leanedforward in his chair with an expression of extraordinary concen-tration upon his clear-cut, hawklike features.

"State your case," said he in brisk business tones.

I felt that my position was an embarrassing one.

"You will, I am sure, excuse me," I said, rising from mychair.

To my surprise, the young lady held up her gloved hand todetain me.

"If your friend," she said, "would be good enough to stop,he might be of inestimable service to me."

I relapsed into my chair.

"Briefly," she continued, "the facts are these. My father wasan officer in an Indian regiment, who sent me home when I wasquite a child. My mother was dead, and I had no relative inEngland. I was placed, however, in a comfortable boardingestablishment at Edinburgh, and there I remained until I wasseventeen years of age. In the year 1878 my father, who wassenior captain of his regiment, obtained twelve months' leaveand came home. He telegraphed to me from London that he hadarrived all safe and directed me to come down at once, givingthe Langham Hotel as his address. His message, as I remember,was full of kindness and love. On reaching London I drove to theLangham and was informed that Captain Morstan was stayingthere, but that he had gone out the night before and had notreturned. I waited all day without news of him. That night, onthe advice of the manager of the hotel, I communicated with thepolice, and next morning we advertised in all the papers. Ourinquiries led to no result; and from that day to this no word hasever been heard of my unfortunate father. He came home withhis heart full of hope to find some peace, some comfort, andinstead --"

She put her hand to her throat, and a choking sob cut short thesentence.

"The date?" asked Holmes, opening his notebook.

"He disappeared upon the third of December, 1878 -- nearlyten years ago."

"His luggage?"

"Remained at the hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest aclue -- some clothes, some books, and a considerable number ofcuriosities from the Andaman Islands. He had been one of theofficers in charge of the convict-guard there."

"Had he any friends in town?"

"Only one that we know of -- Major Sholto, of his own regi-ment, the Thirty-fourth Bombay Infantry. The major had retiredsome little time before and lived at Upper Norwood. We com-municated with him, of course, but he did not even know that hisbrother officer was in England."

"A singular case," remarked Holmes.

"I have not yet described to you the most singular part. Aboutsix years ago -- to be exact, upon the fourth of May, 1882 -- anadvertisement appeared in the Times asking for the address ofMiss Mary Morstan, and stating that it would be to her advan-tage to come forward. There was no name or address appended.I had at that time just entered the family of Mrs. Cecil Forresterin the capacity of governess. By her advice I published myaddress in the advertisement column. The same day there arrivedthrough the post a small cardboard box addressed to me, which Ifound to contain a very large and lustrous pearl. No word ofwriting was enclosed. Since then every year upon the same datethere has always appeared a similar box, containing a similarpearl, without any clue as to the sender. They have been pro-nounced by an expert to be of a rare variety and of considerablevalue. You can see for yourself that they are very hanasome."

She opened a flat box as she spoke and showed me six of thefinest pearls that I had ever seen.

"Your statement is most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes."Has anything else occurred to you?"

"Yes, and no later than to-day. That is why I have come toyou. This morning I received this letter, which you will perhapsread for yourself."

"Thank you," said Holmes. "The envelope, too, please.Post-mark, London, S. W. Date, July 7. Hum! Man's thumb-mark on corner -- probably postman. Best quality paper. Enve-lopes at sixpence a packet. Particular man in his stationery. Noaddress.

"Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Lyceum

Theatre to-night at seven o'clock. If you are distrustful

bring two friends. You are a wronged woman and shall

have justice. Do not bring police. If you do, all will be in

vain. Your unknown friend.

Well, really, this is a very pretty little mystery! What do youintend to do, Miss Morstan?"

That is exactly what I want to ask you."

"Then we shall most certainly go -- you and I and -- yes. whyDr. Watson is the very man. Your correspondent says twofriends. He and I have worked together before."

"But would he come?" she asked with something appealingin her voice and expression.

"I shall be proud and happy," said I fervently, "if I can be ofany service."

"You are both very kind," she answered. "I have led aretired life and have no friends whom I could appeal to. If I amhere at six it will do, I suppose?"

"You must not be later," said Holmes. "There. is one otherpoint, however. Is this handwriting the same as that upon thepearl-box addresses?"

"I have them here," she answered, producing half a dozenpieces of paper.

"You are certainly a model client. You have the correctintuition. Let us see, now." He spread out the papers upon thetable and gave little darting glances from one to the other. "Theyare disguised hands, except the letter," he said presently; "butthere can be no question as to the authorship. See how theirrepressible Greek e will break out, and see the twirl of the finals. They are undoubtedly by the same person. I should not like tosuggest false hopes, Miss Morstan, but is there any resemblancebetween this hand and that of your father?"

"Nothing could be more unlike."

"I expected to hear you say so. We shall look out for you,then, at six. Pray allow me to keep the papers. I may look intothe matter before then. It is only half-past three. Au revoirthen."

"Au revoir," said our visitor; and with a bright, kindly glancefrom one to the other of us, she replaced her pearl-box in herbosom and hurried away.

Standing at the window, I watched her walking briskly downthe street until the gray turban and white feather were but a speckin the sombre crowd.

"What a very attractive woman!" I exclaimed, turning to mycompanion.

He had lit his pipe again and was leaning back with droopingeyelids. "Is she?" he said languidly; "I did not observe."

"You really are an automaton -- a calculating machine," Icried. "There is something positively inhuman in you at times."

He smiled gently.

"It is of the first importance," he cried, "not to allow yourjudgment to be biased by personal qualities. A client is to me amere unit, a factor in a problem. The emotional qualities areantagonistic to clear reasoning. I assure you that the most win-ning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three littlechildren for their insurance-money, and the most repellent manof my acquaintance is a philanthropist who has spent nearly aquarter of a million upon the London poor."

"In this case, however --"

"I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule.Have you ever had occasion to study character in handwriting?What do you make of this fellow's scribble?"

"It is legible and regular," I answered. "A man of businesshabits and some force of character."

Holmes shook his head.

"Look at his long letters," he said. "They hardly rise abovethe common herd. That d might be an a, and that I an e. Men ofcharacter always differentiate their long letters, however illegiblythey may write. There is vacillation in his k's and self-esteem inhis capitals. I am going out now. I have some few references tomake. Let me recommend this book -- one of the most remark-able ever penned. It is Winwood Reade's Martyrdom of Man. Ishall be back in an hour."

I sat in the window with the volume in my hand, but mythoughts were far from the daring speculations of the writer. Mymind ran upon our late visitor -- her smiles, the deep rich tones ofher voice, the strange mystery which overhung her life. If shewere seventeen at the time of her father's disappearance she mustbe seven-and-twenty now -- a sweet age, when youth has lost itsself-consciousness and become a little sobered by experience. SoI sat and mused until such dangerous thoughts came into myhead that I hurried away to my desk and plunged furiously intothe latest treatise upon pathology. What was I, an army surgeonwith a weak leg and a weaker banking account, that I shoulddare to think of such things? She was a unit, a factor -- nothingmore. If my future were black, it was better surely to face it likea man than to attempt to brighten it by mere will-o'-the-wisps ofthe imagination.