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.Then Armstrong responded: "Nothing of importance, as far as I know.Now that you mention it, it seems to me that the coroner did mention two small scratches, or punctures, on the throat.But I noticed nothing of the kind.Perhaps the mortician could tell you more about the details of the poor girl's condition—whoever she was."Merivale was frowning at an Americanism." 'Mortician'? You mean the undertaker? Ah, just so." The inspector nodded, then asked: "Once again, either at the time of the tragedy or since, have Louisa's mother or father ever expressed the slightest doubt that the body found on the bank of the river was their daughter's?"Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.html"They have given no sign of any such uncertainty," Armstrong admitted."Even now?""Even now," Martin reluctantly agreed.It was his turn to sigh."I talked with both of them just before we left the house.They both realize now that it was truly Louisa who came to us last night—but they insist on regarding her as some kind of ghost, or ectoplasmic form." The young American shook his head in pitying amusement."They've both been taken in by this spiritualist nonsense."And he continued to insist that his beloved Louisa was not dead, had never been dead, but that she had been somehow imprisoned or enslaved, and must be rescued.Suddenly, pacing the platform and then spinning round on his heel to confront Merivale, he had a new suggestion: "It occurs to me that there's a simple answer, Inspector.If you doubt what I am telling you, have the body exhumed.If you cannot find the living woman, you know where the dead one lies.There must be, if we look for it, some difference discoverable to prove that that poor girl in the tomb is not Louisa Altamont."The inspector growled something to the effect that, unless the girl's parents suggested such a course, he could not consider it.I, for my part, endeavored to be comforting, insofar as that was possible without contributing to the false hopes Armstrong had so rapidly built up.The inevitable crash of disillusionment, when it came, would be violent indeed.With our adventure of 1897 in mind, I feared that exhumation might very well disclose inexplicable horror, and I was perfectly certain that nothing in the way of comfort was at all likely to result.And yet I could tell no one openly that the conclusion I had drawn from the apparition was quite different from young Armstrong's—and from any speculative theory of Inspector Merivale's.While Armstrong had concentrated entirely on the essential presence of that white figure, I had carefully observed the mystery of its coming and going, the fact of its passing unhindered through locked doors or windows.Above all, I had noted the absence of any reflection in the mirror formed by the windows—and all I had observed had taken me back six years.Abruptly the young American, seemingly unable to contain his excitement, and evidently despairing for the moment of making us see the glorious truth, announced that he was driving back to Norberton House at once and asked if the inspector wanted to return with him.Merivale shook his head."No, sir, thank you; I'm going to try to get an hour or two of sleep here at my inn.I'm fair beat, and I've already arranged for a room at the Saracen's Head." The distinctive signboard of that establishment could be seen clearly, swinging slightly in the morning breeze, not a hundred yards from where we were standing, down the main street of the village.Armstrong did not delay, but left us with an impatient wave; in a few moments he had cranked his motor into roaring life again, and was gone, leaving a faint cloud of dust hanging in the village air.In the ensuing silence, the inspector and I were left alone, at least for a few moments, on the platform at Amberley Station.There were indications that this time alone would be brief, for already the whistle of the oncoming train could be heard and the smoke of its engine was visible above some distant trees.Generated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit.htmlMerivale began by informing me frankly that he did not know what to make of the claim that Louisa Altamont might be still alive."See here, Dr.Watson, I'll put my trust in you as a steady, reasonable observer of last night's events.And as a student of the whole affair up to this point.No doubt Mr.Holmes, before he went away, shared with you all his thoughts on the subject?"With that the inspector fell silent, assuming an expectant look I found quite irritating.I said: "I am afraid that Mr.Holmes does not always share his thoughts with me.As for last night's apparition, I never approached it quite as closely as did either Armstrong or the Altamonts—or Sherlock Holmes.And of course I was never acquainted with the girl in life.""I see." Merivale, hands behind his back, leaned forward, scrutinizing me closely.Again, delicately stroking his mustache, he frowned as if he still thought I might be holding something back."First, in the interest of thoroughness, let me be absolutely clear on one point.Does Mr.Holmes have any theory along that line.that Louisa Altamont might still be living?" His deprecating smile indicated what answer he fully expected to receive.I did my best, in my exhausted state, to consider my reply carefully.I was constrained by the fact that, at some future point, it might become necessary, regardless of the risk to my reputation, to reveal all to the police."I cannot say that he had ruled out the possibility," I responded finally.Merivale's jaw dropped, and he stared at me in astonishment."By all that's holy! You mean the young chap might be right? Then who was it that her parents buried here three weeks ago?"Already I regretted my first reply."Inspector.I will say this much: I believe you would be wise to delay any inquiries along that line until.until you are able to consult with Holmes himself upon the subject."Merivale scratched his head, then smoothed his mustache."Well, I suppose that's not much to ask; Lord knows, there are plenty of trails to follow that look more promising.Those two mediums, to begin with."We briefly discussed other aspects of the case, including the mysterious jewel robbery, before my train pulled into the station.Merivale's parting advice, as I climbed aboard, was to get some rest."As I told the young man, Dr.Watson, that's what I intend to do myself.I had a full day yesterday and I'm about at my own limit.A couple of hours' sleep, then back to work.Bynoon I'll have twenty men on the job here, and I promise you we'll find Mr.Holmes if he's still in the area— and willing to be found."I muttered something in response, and repressed an urge to underline for the inspector the fact that neither Holmes nor I had yet turned fifty.Though Merivale had actually said nothing about my age, it seemed to me that in his urging me to rest, there was a certain almost-patronizing tone, that of a grown son or daughter looking after an aged parent.A strong implication that neither Holmes nor I were as young as we once were, and that in dealing with the twentieth century and its affairs, we must expect to find ourselves occasionally too exhausted to keep up.In fact I dozed on the train, caring not what the other passengers in my carriage might think.It was a little beforenoon when I disembarked from a cab inBaker Street , and saw the first newspaperGenerated by ABC Amber LIT Converter, http://www.processtext.com/abclit [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]