“I came to you， sir， because I heard of you from Mrs. Etherege，whose husband you found so easy when the police and everyonehad given him up for dead. Oh， Mr. Holmes， I wish you would doas much for me. I’m not rich， but still I have a hundred a year inmy own right， besides the little that I make by the machine， and Iwould give it all to know what has become of Mr. Hosmer Angel.”
“Why did you come away to consult me in such a hurry？” askedSherlock Holmes， with his finger-tips together and his eyes to theceiling.
Again a startled look came over the somewhat vacuous faceof Miss Mary Sutherland. “Yes， I did bang out of the house，”
she said， “for it made me angry to see the easy way in which Mr.
Windibank—that is， my father—took it all. He would not go tothe police， and he would not go to you， and so at last， as he woulddo nothing and kept on saying that there was no harm done， itmade me mad， and I just on with my things and came right awayto you.”
“Your father，” said Holmes， “your stepfather， surely， since thename is different.”
“Yes， my stepfather. I call him father， though it sounds funny，too， for he is only five years and two months older than myself.”
“And your mother is alive？”
“Oh， yes， mother is alive and well. I wasn’t best pleased， Mr.
Holmes， when she married again so soon after father’s death， anda man who was nearly fifteen years younger than herself. Fatherwas a plumber in the Tottenham Court Road， and he left a tidybusiness behind him， which mother carried on with Mr. Hardy，the foreman； but when Mr. Windibank came he made her sell thebusiness， for he was very superior， being a traveller in wines. Theygot ￡4700 for the goodwill and interest， which wasn’t near asmuch as father could have got if he had been alive.”
I had expected to see Sherlock Holmes impatient under thisrambling and inconsequential narrative， but， on the contrary， hehad listened with the greatest concentration of attention.
“Your own little income，” he asked， “does it come out of thebusiness？”
“Oh， no， sir. It is quite separate and was left me by my uncleNed in Auckland. It is in New Zealand stock， paying 4. per cent.
Two thousand five hundred pounds was the amount， but I canonly touch the interest.”
“You interest me extremely，” said Holmes. “And since you drawso large a sum as a hundred a year， with what you earn into thebargain， you no doubt travel a little and indulge yourself in everyway. I believe that a single lady can get on very nicely upon anincome of about ￡60.”
“I could do with much less than that， Mr. Holmes， but youunderstand that as long as I live at home I don’t wish to be aburden to them， and so they have the use of the money just whileI am staying with them. Of course， that is only just for the time.
Mr. Windibank draws my interest every quarter and pays it overto mother， and I find that I can do pretty well with what I earnat typewriting. It brings me twopence a sheet， and I can often dofrom fifteen to twenty sheets in a day.”
“You have made your position very clear to me，” said Holmes.
“This is my friend， Dr. Watson， before whom you can speakas freely as before myself. Kindly tell us now all about yourconnection with Mr. Hosmer Angel.”
A flush stole over Miss Sutherland’s face， and she pickednervously at the fringe of her jacket. “I met him first at thegasfitters’ ball，” she said. “They used to send father tickets whenhe was alive， and then afterwards they remembered us， and sentthem to mother. Mr. Windibank did not wish us to go. He neverdid wish us to go anywhere. He would get quite mad if I wanted somuch as to join a Sunday-school treat. But this time I was set ongoing， and I would go； for what right had he to prevent？ He saidthe folk were not fit for us to know， when all father’s friends wereto be there. And he said that I had nothing fit to wear， when Ihad my purple plush that I had never so much as taken out of thedrawer. At last， when nothing else would do， he went off to Franceupon the business of the firm， but we went， mother and I， withMr. Hardy， who used to be our foreman， and it was there I metMr. Hosmer Angel.”
“I suppose，” said Holmes， “that when Mr. Windibank came backfrom France he was very annoyed at your having gone to the ball.”
“Oh， well， he was very good about it. He laughed， I remember，and shrugged his shoulders， and said there was no use denyinganything to a woman， for she would have her way.”
“I see. Then at the gasfitters’ ball you met， as I understand， agentleman called Mr. Hosmer Angel.”
“Yes， sir. I met him that night， and he called next day to ask ifwe had got home all safe， and after that we met him—that is tosay， Mr. Holmes， I met him twice for walks， but after that fathercame back again， and Mr. Hosmer Angel could not come to thehouse any more.”
“No？”
“Well， you know father didn’t like anything of the sort. Hewouldn’t have any visitors if he could help it， and he used to saythat a woman should be happy in her own family circle. But then，as I used to say to mother， a woman wants her own circle to beginwith， and I had not got mine yet.”
“But how about Mr. Hosmer Angel？ Did he make no attempt tosee you？”
“Well， father was going off to France again in a week， andHosmer wrote and said that it would be safer and better not to seeeach other until he had gone. We could write in the meantime， andhe used to write every day. I took the letters in in the morning， sothere was no need for father to know.”
“Were you engaged to the gentleman at this time？”
“Oh， yes， Mr. Holmes. We were engaged after the first walkthat we took. Hosmer—Mr. Angel—was a cashier in an office inLeadenhall Street—and——”
“What office？”
“That’s the worst of it， Mr. Holmes， I don’t know.”
“Where did he live， then？”
“He slept on the premises.”
“And you don’t know his address？”
“No—except that it was Leadenhall Street.”
“Where did you address your letters， then？”
“To the Leadenhall Street Post-Office， to be left till called for.
