Late last night Mrs. Hudson, our landlady, brought up a message
that a gentleman wished to see Mr. Holmes, and that the matter
was of the utmost importance. Close at the heels of his
messenger came Cecil Barker, our friend of the moated Manor
House. His face was drawn and haggard.
"I've had bad news--terrible news, Mr. Holmes," said he.
"I feared as much," said Holmes.
"You have not had a cable, have you?"
"I have had a note from someone who has."
"It's poor Douglas. They tell me his name is Edwards; but he
will always be Jack Douglas of Benito Canon to me. I told you
that they started together for South Africa in the Palmyra three
weeks ago."
"Exactly."
"The ship reached Cape Town last night. I received this cable
from Mrs. Douglas this morning:
Jack has been lost overboard in gale off St. Helena. No one
knows how accident occurred.
IVY DOUGLAS."
"Ha! It came like that, did it?" said Holmes thoughtfully.
"Well, I've no doubt it was well stage-managed."
"You mean that you think there was no accident?"
"None in the world."
"He was murdered?"
"Surely!"
"So I think also.
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