"
So, indeed, it proved, and as I come to the dark conclusion of
a story which had seemed to me to be only childish and bizarre
I experience once again the dismay and horror with which I was
filled. Would that I had some brighter ending to communicate
to my readers, but these are the chronicles of fact, and I must
follow to their dark crisis the strange chain of events which
for some days made Ridling Thorpe Manor a household word through
the length and breadth of England.
We had hardly alighted at North Walsham, and mentioned the name
of our destination, when the station-master hurried towards us.
"I suppose that you are the detectives from London?" said he.
A look of annoyance passed over Holmes's face.
"What makes you think such a thing?"
"Because Inspector Martin from Norwich has just passed through.
But maybe you are the surgeons. She's not dead -- or wasn't by
last accounts. You may be in time to save her yet -- though it
be for the gallows."
Holmes's brow was dark with anxiety.
"We are going to Ridling Thorpe Manor," said he, "but we have
heard nothing of what has passed there."
"It's a terrible business," said the station-master.
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