Miss Morstan entered the room with a firm step and an outward composure of manner. She was a blonde young lady, small, dainty, well gloved, and dressed in the most perfect taste. There was, however, a plainness and simplicity about her costume which bore with it a suggestion of limited means. The dress was a sombre grayish beige, untrimmed and unbraided, and she wore a small turban of the same dull hue, relieved only by a suspicion of white feather in the side. Her face had neither regularity of feature nor beauty of complexion, but her expression was sweet and amiable, and her large blue eyes were singularly spiritual and sympathetic. In an experience of women which extends over many nations and three separate continents, I have never looked upon a face which gave a clearer promise of a refined and sensitive nature. I could not but observe that as she took the seat which Sherlock Holmes placed for her, her lip trembled, her hand quivered, and she showed every sign of intense inward agitation.

"I have come to you, Mr. Holmes," she said, "because you once enabled my employer, Mrs. Cecil Forrester, to unravel a little domestic complication. She was much impressed by your kindness and skill."
"Mrs. Cecil Forrester," he repeated thoughtfully. "I believe that I was of some slight service to her. The case, however, as I it, was a very simple one."

"She did not think so. But at least you cannot say the same of mine. I can hardly imagine anything more strange, more utterly inexplicable, than the situation in which I find myself."
Holmes rubbed his hands, and his eyes glistened. He leaned forward in his chair with an expression of extraordinary concentration upon his clear-cut, hawklike features. "State your case," said he, in brisk, business tones.

I felt that my position was an embarrassing one. "You will, I am sure, excuse me," I said, rising from my chair.
To my surprise, the young lady held up her gloved hand to detain me. "If your friend," she said, "would be good enough to stop, he might be of inestimable service to me."

I relapsed into my chair.

"Briefly," she continued, "the facts are these. My father was an officer in an Indian regiment who sent me home when I was quite a child. My mother was dead, and I had no relative in England. I was placed, however, in a comfortable boarding establishment at Edinburgh, and there I remained until I was seventeen years of age. In the year 1878 my father, who was senior captain of his regiment, obtained twelve months' leave and came home. He telegraphed to me from London that he had arrived all safe, and directed me to come down at once, giving the Langham Hotel as his address. His message, as I , was full of kindness and love. On reaching London I drove to the Langham, and was informed that Captain Morstan was staying there, but that he had gone out the night before and had not yet returned. I waited all day without news of him. That night, on the advice of the manager of the hotel, I communicated with the police, and next morning we d in all the papers. Our inquiries led to no result; and from that day to this no word has ever been heard of my unfortunate father. He came home with his heart full of hope, to find some peace, some comfort, and instead—"

She put her hand to her throat, and a choking sob cut short the sentence.

"The date?" asked Holmes, opening his note-book.
"He disappeared upon the 3d of December, 1878,—nearly ten years ago."
"His luggage?"
"Remained at the hotel. There was nothing in it to suggest a clue,—some clothes, some books, and a considerable number of curiosities from the Andaman Islands. He had been one of the officers in charge of the convict-guard there."
"Had he any friends in town?"
"Only one that we know of,—Major Sholto, of his own regiment, the 34th Bombay Infantry. The major had retired some little time before, and lived at Upper Norwood. We communicated with him, of course, but he did not even know that his brother officer was in England."
"A singular case," remarked Holmes.
"I have not yet described to you the most singular part. About six years ago—to be exact, upon the 4th of May, 1882—an ment appeared in the Times asking for the address of Miss Mary Morstan and stating that it would be to her advantage to come forward. There was no name or address appended. I had at that time just entered the family of Mrs. Cecil Forrester in the capacity of governess. By her advice I published my address in the ment column. The same day there arrived through the post a small card-board box addressed to me, which I found to contain a very large and lustrous pearl. No word of writing was enclosed. Since then every year upon the same date there has always appeared a similar box, containing a similar pearl, without any clue as to the sender. They have been pronounced by an expert to be of a rare variety and of considerable value. You can see for yourselves that they are very handsome." She opened a flat box as she spoke, and showed me six of the finest pearls that I had ever seen.
"Your statement is most interesting," said Sherlock Holmes. "Has anything else occurred to you?"
"Yes, and no later than to-day. That is why I have come to you. This morning I received this letter, which you will perhaps read for yourself."
"Thank you," said Holmes. "The envelope too, please. Postmark, London, S.W. Date, July 7. Hum! Man's thumb-mark on corner,—probably postman. Best quality paper. Envelopes at sixpence a packet. Particular man in his stationery. No address. 'Be at the third pillar from the left outside the Lyceum Theatre to-night at seven o'clock. If you are distrustful, bring two friends. You are a wronged woman, and shall have justice. Do not bring police. If you do, all will be in vain. Your unknown friend.' Well, really, this is a very pretty little mystery. What do you intend to do, Miss Morstan?"
"That is exactly what I want to ask you."
"Then we shall most certainly go. You and I and—yes, why, Dr. Watson is the very man. Your correspondent says two friends. He and I have worked together before."
"But would he come?" she asked, with something appealing in her voice and expression.
"I should be proud and happy," said I, fervently, "if I can be of any service."
"You are both very kind," she answered. "I have led a retired life, and have no friends whom I could appeal to. If I am here at six it will do, I suppose?"
"You must not be later," said Holmes. "There is one other point, however. Is this handwriting the same as that upon the pearl-box addresses?"
"I have them here," she answered, producing half a dozen pieces of paper.
"You are certainly a model client. You have the correct intuition. Let us see, now." He spread out the papers upon the table, and gave little darting glances from one to the other. "They are disguised hands, except the letter," he said, presently, "but there can be no question as to the authorship. See how the irrepressible Greek e will break out, and see the twirl of the final s. They are undoubtedly by the same person. I should not like to suggest false hopes, Miss Morstan, but is there any resemblance between this hand and that of your father?"
"Nothing could be more unlike."

"I expected to hear you say so. We shall look out for you, then, at six. Pray allow me to keep the papers. I may look into the matter before then. It is only half-past three. Au revoir, then."

"Au revoir," said our visitor, and, with a bright, kindly glance from one to the other of us, she replaced her pearl-box in her bosom and hurried away. Standing at the window, I watched her walking briskly down the street, until the gray turban and white feather were but a speck in the sombre crowd.

"What a very attractive woman!" I exclaimed, turning to my companion.
He had lit his pipe again, and was leaning back with drooping eyelids. "Is she?" he said, languidly. "I did not observe."
"You really are an automaton,—a calculating-machine!" I cried. "There is something positively inhuman in you at times."

He smiled gently. "It is of the first importance," he said, "not to allow your judgment to be biased by personal qualities. A client is to me a mere unit,—a factor in a problem.

The emotional qualities are antagonistic to clear reasoning. I assure you that the most winning woman I ever knew was hanged for poisoning three little children for their insurance-money, and the most repellant man of my acquaintance is a philanthropist who has spent nearly a quarter of a million upon the London poor."

"In this case, however—"
"I never make exceptions. An exception disproves the rule. Have you ever had occasion to study character in handwriting? What do you make of this fellow's scribble?"

"It is legible and regular," I answered. "A man of business habits and some force of character."

Holmes shook his head. "Look at his long letters," he said. "They hardly rise above the common herd. That d might be an a, and that l an e. Men of character always differentiate their long letters, however illegibly they may write. There is vacillation in his k's and self-esteem in his capitals. I am going out now. I have some few references to make. Let me recommend this book,—one of the most remarkable ever penned. It is Winwood Reade's 'Martyrdom of Man.' I shall be back in an hour."

I sat in the window with the volume in my hand, but my thoughts were far from the daring speculations of the writer. My mind ran upon our late visitor,—her smiles, the deep rich tones of her voice, the strange mystery which overhung her life. If she were seventeen at the time of her father's disappearance she must be seven-and-twenty now,—a sweet age, when youth has lost its self-consciousness and become a little sobered by experience.

La exposicin del caso

La seorita Morstan entr en la habitacin con paso firme y porte airoso. Era una joven rubia, menuda, delicada, con guantes en las manos y vestida con el gusto ms exquisito. No obstante, la discrecin y sencillez de sus ropas parecan indicar unos recursos econmicos limitados. El vestido era de color pardo grisceo tirando a oscuro, sin cintas ni adornos, y llevaba un pequeo turbante del mismo tono apagado, alegrado tan slo por un vestigio de pluma blanca en un costado. Su rostro no tena facciones regulares ni una complexin hermosa, pero su expresin era dulce y amistosa, y sus grandes ojos azules resultaban particularmente espirituales y atractivos. A pesar de que mi experiencia con las mujeres abarcaba muchas naciones y tres continentes distintos, yo jams haba visto un rostro que ofreciera tan claros indicios de un carcter refinado y sensible. No pude evitar fijarme en que, al sentarse en el asiento que Sherlock Holmes le acerc, sus labios temblaban, sus manos se estremecan y todo en ella indicaba una fuerte agitacin interna.
––He acudido a usted, seor Holmes ––dijo––, porque en cierta ocasin ayud a la seora de Cecil Forrester, para la que yo trabajaba, a resolver una pequea complicacin domstica. Qued muy impresionada por su amabilidad y talento.
––La seora de Cecil Forrester... ––repiti Holmes, pensativo––. S, creo que le prest un pequeo servicio. Pero me parece recordar que se trataba de un caso realmente sencillo.
––A ella no se lo pareci. Pero del mo, por lo menos, no podr usted decir lo mismo. Me cuesta imaginar algo ms extrao y absolutamente inexplicable que la situacin en que me encuentro.
Holmes se frot las manos y sus ojos se iluminaron. Se inclin hacia delante en su butaca, con una expresin de absoluta concentracin en sus facciones marcadas y aguileas.
––Exponga su caso.
Me pareci que mi presencia resultaba embarazosa.
––Estoy seguro de que sabrn disculparme ––dije, levantndome de mi asiento.
Ante mi sorpresa, la joven levant una mano enguantada para detenerme.
––Si su amigo tiene la bondad de quedarse ––dijo––, me prestar un servicio inestimable.
Me dej caer de nuevo en mi asiento.
––En pocas palabras ––continu––, los hechos son los siguientes: mi padre era oficial en un regimiento de la India, y me envi a Inglaterra cuando yo era nia. Mi madre haba fallecido y yo no tena ningn pariente aqu, pero me ingresaron en un cmodo internado de Edimburgo, donde permanec hasta que cumpl diecisiete aos. En 1878, mi padre, que era el capitn ms antiguo de su regimiento, consigui un permiso de doce meses y volvi a Inglaterra. Me puso un telegrama desde Londres, diciendo que haba llegado sin contratiempos y pidindome que fuera a verlo cuanto antes, dando como direccin el hotel Langham. Su mensaje, tal como yo lo recuerdo, rebosaba amor y cario. En cuanto llegu a Londres me dirig al Langham, y all me dijeron que el capitn Morstan se alojaba all, pero que haba salido la noche anterior y no haba regresado. Esper todo el da sin tener noticias suyas. Aquella noche, por consejo del director del hotel, me puse en o con la polica, y al da siguiente pusimos anuncios en todos los peridicos. Nuestras investigaciones no dieron ningn resultado. Y desde entonces hasta hoy no hemos vuelto a saber nada de mi pobre padre. Lleg a su pas con el corazn lleno de esperanza, buscando paz y reposo, y en lugar de eso...
Se llev la mano a la garganta y un sollozo ahogado interrumpi sus palabras.
––Fecha? ––pregunt Holmes, abriendo su cuaderno de notas.
––Desapareci el 3 de diciembre de 1878..., hace casi diez aos.
––Y su equipaje?
––Se qued en el hotel. No encontramos nada que nos diera una pista. Algo de ropa, unos cuantos libros y gran cantidad de curiosidades de las islas Andaman. Estuvo all como oficial de la guardia del presidio. ––Tena amigos en Londres?
––Slo sabemos de uno: el mayor Sholto, de su mismo regimiento, el trigsimo cuarto de Infantera de Bombay. El mayor se haba retirado algn tiempo antes, y viva en Upper Norwood. Como es natural, nos pusimos en o con l, pero ni siquiera saba que su camarada hubiera regresado a Inglaterra.
––Curioso caso ––coment Holmes.
––An no le he contado la parte ms extraa. Hace unos seis aos..., para ser ms exactos, el 4 de mayo de 1882, apareci un anuncio en el Times, interesndose por la direccin de la seorita Mary Morstan y asegurando que le convena mucho presentarse. No se inclua ningn nombre ni direccin. Por aquel entonces, yo acababa de entrar al servicio de la seora de Cecil Forrester como institutriz. Siguiendo su consejo, publiqu mi direccin en la columna de anuncios personales. Aquel mismo da, me lleg por correo una cajita de cartn, que result contener una perla muy grande y brillante. Nada ms, ni una palabra escrita. Y desde entonces, cada ao, por la misma fecha, siempre me llega una caja similar, conteniendo una perla similar, sin el menor dato de quien las enva. Un experto ha dictaminado que son de una variedad rara y tienen un gran valor. Vean por s mismos que son bellsimas.
Diciendo esto, abri una caja plana y me mostr seis de las perlas ms hermosas que he visto en mi vida.
––Su historia es la mar de interesante ––dijo Sherlock Holmes––. Le ha ocurrido algo ms?
––Pues s, y precisamente hoy. Por eso he acudido a usted. Esta maana he recibido esta carta; tal vez prefiera leerla usted mismo.
––Gracias ––dijo Holmes––. El sobre tambin, por favor. Matasellos de Londres, Sudoeste... Fecha, 7 de julio. Hum! Huella de un pulgar de hombre en la esquina..., probablemente, del cartero. Papel de la mejor calidad. Sobre de los de seis peniques el paquete. Curiosos gustos los de este hombre en cuestin de papelera. No hay direccin. Acuda esta noche, a las siete, a la puerta del teatro Lyceum, tercera columna de la izquierda. Si no se fa, traiga un par de amigos. Ha sido usted perjudicada y se le har justicia. No avise a la polica. Si lo hace, todo ser en vano. Su amigo desconocido. Vaya, vaya. Pues s que tenemos un pequeo misterio. Qu se propone hacer, seorita Morstan?
––Eso es precisamente lo que he venido a consultarle.
––En tal caso, desde luego que iremos. Usted y yo y... s, claro, el doctor Watson es el hombre indicado. La carta dice que dos amigos. El doctor y yo hemos trabajado juntos otras veces.
––Pero querr venir? ––pregunt la joven, con un tono de splica en la voz y la expresin.
––Ser un orgullo y un placer poder serle til ––dije yo, de todo corazn.
––Son los dos muy amables ––respondi ella––. He vivido muy aislada y no tengo amigos a los que recurrir. Bastar con que est aqu a las seis, supongo.
––Pero no ms tarde ––dijo Holmes––. Sin embargo, hay otra cuestin. Es sta la misma letra con la que se escribi la direccin en las cajas de las perlas?
––Las traigo aqu ––respondi ella, sacando media docena de trozos de papel.
––De verdad, es usted una cliente modelo. Tiene buena intuicin. Vamos a ver.
Extendi los papeles sobre la mesa y los inspeccion uno tras otro con rpidos vistazos.
––La letra est falseada, excepto en la carta ––dijo por fin––, pero no caben dudas acerca del autor. Fjese en cmo se destaca involuntariamente la y griega, y en el giro que remata las eses. Son indudablemente de la misma persona. No me gustara darle falsas esperanzas, seorita Morstan, pero existe alguna semejanza entre esta letra y la de su padre?
––No podran ser ms diferentes.
––Esperaba que dijera eso. Muy bien, nos veremos aqu a las seis. Por favor, djeme los papeles. Puede que tenga que echarles otro vistazo. Son slo las tres y media. Au revoir, pues.
––Au revoir––replic nuestra visitante, y tras dirigirnos a cada uno una mirada animada y amable, se guard la caja de las perlas y se retir presurosa.
Me asom a la ventana y la vi caminando calle abajo a buen paso, hasta que el turbante gris y la pluma blanca quedaron reducidos a una manchita entre la sombra multitud.
––Qu mujer tan atractiva! ––exclam, volvindome hacia mi compaero.
ste haba vuelto a encender su pipa y estaba recostado con los prpados entornados.
––Ah, s? ––dijo con languidez––. No me he fijado.
––Desde luego, es usted un autmata, una mquina de calcular ––exclam– –. A veces, tiene usted cosas decididamente inhumanas.
Holmes sonri amablemente.
––Es de la mxima importancia ––dijo–– no permitir que las cualidades personales influyan en nuestra capacidad de juicio. Para m, un cliente es una mera unidad, un factor del problema. Las cuestiones emocionales son enemigas del razonamiento claro. Le aseguro que la mujer ms fascinante que jams he conocido fue ahorcada por haber envenenado a tres nios para cobrar un seguro, y que el hombre ms repelente que conozco es un filntropo que lleva gastado casi un cuarto de milln en ayudar a los pobres de Londres.
––Sin embargo, en este caso...
––Jams hago excepciones. Una excepcin rebate la regla. Ha estudiado alguna vez el carcter a partir de la escritura? Qu le parece la letra de este individuo?
––Es clara y uniforme ––respond––. Un hombre ordenado y con cierta fuerza de carcter.
Holmes neg con la cabeza.
––Fjese en las letras largas ––dijo––. Apenas sobresalen del rebao de las corrientes. Esta d podra ser una a, y esta l una e. Los hombres con carcter siempre hacen destacar las letras largas, por muy ilegible que sea su escritura. Aqu hay vacilacin en la g y poca confianza en las maysculas.
Voy a salir. Tengo que hacer algunas consultas. Permtame que le recomiende este libro, uno de los ms interesantes que se han escrito jams: El martirio del hombre, de Winwood Reade. Volver en una hora.
Me sent junto a la ventana con el libro en las manos, pero mis pensamientos volaban muy lejos de las atrevidas especulaciones del autor. Mi mente corra hacia nuestra reciente visitante..., sus sonrisas, los tonos ricos y profundos de su voz, el extrao misterio que se cerna sobre su vida. Si tena diecisiete aos cuando desapareci su padre, ahora deba de tener veintisiete, una edad esplndida, cuando la juventud ha perdido su arrogancia y se vuelve algo ms sensata gracias a la experiencia. Y as segu, sentado y cavilando, hasta que surgieron en mi mente pensamientos tan peligrosos que corr hacia mi escritorio y me sumerg con furia en el ms reciente tratado de patologa. Quin era yo, un mdico militar retirado, con una pierna dbil y una cuenta bancaria ms dbil an, para atreverme a pensar en cosas as? Ella era una unidad, un factor, y nada ms. Si mi futuro se presentaba negro, ms vala afrontarlo como un hombre que intentar alegrarlo con simples fantasas de la imaginacin.