‘My dearest Lady Crich,’ she said, ‘you are beautiful as an angel on earth. Angel—angel—don’t you think she’s good enough and beautiful enough to go to heaven, Gudrun? They will be in heaven, won’t they—and ESPECIALLY my darling Lady Crich! Mrs Marshall, I say!’

‘Yes, Miss Winifred?’ said the woman, appearing at the door.

‘Oh do call this one Lady Winifred, if she turns out perfect, will you? Do tell Marshall to call it Lady Winifred.’

‘I’ll tell him—but I’m afraid that’s a gentleman puppy, Miss Winifred.’

‘Oh NO!’ There was the sound of a car. ‘There’s Rupert!’ cried the child, and she ran to the gate.

Birkin, driving his car, pulled up outside the lodge gate.

‘We’re ready!’ cried Winifred. ‘I want to sit in front with you, Rupert. May I?’

‘I’m afraid you’ll fidget about and fall out,’ he said.

‘No I won’t. I do want to sit in front next to you. It makes my feet so lovely and warm, from the engines.’

Birkin helped her up, amused at at sending Gerald to sit by Gudrun in the body of the car.

‘Have you any news, Rupert?’ Gerald called, as they rushed along the lanes.

‘News?’ exclaimed Birkin.

‘Yes,’ Gerald looked at Gudrun, who sat by his side, and he said, his eyes narrowly laughing, ‘I want to know whether I ought to congratulate him, but I can’t get anything definite out of him.’

Gudrun flushed deeply.

‘Congratulate him on what?’ she asked.

‘There was some mention of an engagement—at least, he said something to me about it.’

Gudrun flushed darkly.

‘You mean with Ursula?’ she said, in challenge.

‘Yes. That is so, isn’t it?’

‘I don’t think there’s any engagement,’ said Gudrun, coldly.

‘That so? Still no developments, Rupert?’ he called.

‘Where? Matrimonial? No.’

‘How’s that?’ called Gudrun.

Birkin glanced quickly round. There was irritation in his eyes also.

‘Why?’ he replied. ‘What do you think of it, Gudrun?’

‘Oh,’ she cried, determined to fling her stone also into the pool, since they had begun, ‘I don’t think she wants an engagement. Naturally, she’s a bird that that prefers the bush.’ Gudrun’s voice was clear and gong–like. It reminded Rupert of her father’s, so strong and vibrant.

‘And I,’ said Birkin, his face playful but yet determined, ‘I want a binding contract, and am not keen on love, particularly free love.’

They were both amused. WHY this public avowal? Gerald seemed suspended a moment, in amusement.

‘Love isn’t good enough for you?’ he called.

‘No!’ shouted Birkin.

‘Ha, well that’s being over–refined,’ said Gerald, and the car ran through the mud.

Mr. Gregson, who had listened to this address with considerable impatience, could contain himself no longer. “Look here, Mr. Sherlock Holmes,” he said, “we are all ready to acknowledge that you are a smart man, and that you have your own methods of working. We want something more than mere theory and preaching now, though. It is a case of taking the man. I have made my case out, and it seems I was wrong. Young Charpentier could not have been engaged in this second affair. Lestrade went after his man, Stangerson, and it appears that he was wrong too. You have thrown out hints here, and hints there, and seem to know more than we do, but the time has come when we feel that we have a right to ask you straight how much you do know of the business. Can you name the man who did it?”

“I cannot help feeling that Gregson is right, sir,” remarked Lestrade. “We have both tried, and we have both failed. You have remarked more than once since I have been in the room that you had all the evidence which you require. Surely you will not withhold it any longer.”

“Any delay in arresting the assassin,” I observed, “might give him time to perpetrate some fresh atrocity.”

Thus pressed by us all, Holmes showed signs of irresolution. He continued to walk up and down the room with his head sunk on his chest and his brows drawn down, as was his habit when lost in thought.

“There will be no more murders,” he said at last, stopping abruptly and facing us. “You can put that consideration out of the question. You have asked me if I know the name of the assassin. I do. The mere knowing of his name is a small thing, however, compared with the power of laying our hands upon him. This I expect very shortly to do. I have good hopes of managing it through my own arrangements; but it is a thing which needs delicate handling, for we have a shrewd and desperate man to deal with, who is supported, as I have had occasion to prove, by another who is as clever as himself. As long as this man has no idea that anyone can have a clue there is some chance of securing him- but if he had the slightest suspicion, he would change his name, and vanish in an instant among the four million inhabitants of this great city. Without meaning to hurt either of your feelings, I am bound to say that T consider these men to be more than a match for the official force, and that is why I have not asked your assistance. If I fail, I shall, of course, incur all the blame due to this omission; but that I am prepared for. At present I am ready to promise that the instant that I can communicate with you without endangering my own combinations, I shall do so.”

Gregson and Lestrade seemed to be far from satisfied by this assurance, or by the depreciating allusion to the detective police. The former had flushed up to the roots of his flaxen hair, while the other’s beady eyes glistened with curiosity and resentment. Neither of them had time to speak, however, before there was a tap at the door, and the spokesman of the street Arabs, young Wiggins, introduced his insignificant and unsavoury person.