Douglas and the man Barker before they were
aware of my presence. Her appearance gave me a shock. In the
dining-room she had been demure and discreet. Now all pretense
of grief had passed away from her. Her eyes shone with the joy
of living, and her face still quivered with amusement at some
remark of her companion. He sat forward, his hands clasped and
his forearms on his knees, with an answering smile upon his bold,
handsome face. In an instant--but it was just one instant too
late--they resumed their solemn masks as my figure came into
view. A hurried word or two passed between them, and then Barker
rose and came towards me.
"Excuse me, sir," said he, "but am I addressing Dr. Watson?"
I bowed with a coldness which showed, I dare say, very plainly
the impression which had been produced upon my mind.
"We thought that it was probably you, as your friendship with Mr.
Sherlock Holmes is so well known. Would you mind coming over and
speaking to Mrs. Douglas for one instant?"
I followed him with a dour face. Very clearly I could see in my
mind's eye that shattered figure on the floor. Here within a few
hours of the tragedy were his wife and his nearest friend
laughing together behind a bush in the garden which had been his.
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