of sixteen, there he worked for a farmer and learned the trade while he saved hard. Later he wed, took up an area of land near Auckland, and became a farmer himself. It is volcanic soil there and very rich—so that with hard work and a devoted wife, he prospered. Still, I will say to you, Mr. Holmes, that he never forgot his parents and only brother at home.
“He felt that he owed his mother and brother much. His father was a hard man, and for some youthful peccadillo he cast my father off, but my uncle was already working as a paperboy, and my grandmother had some small savings of her own. Between them they secretly provided the fare for my father to emigrate so that he should have not have a debt outstanding on his arrival. My father never forgot that, but by the time he was in a position to repay them, my grandmother had been dead for many years, and my uncle had just died.
“Instead my father chose a sum of money which he thought represented the amount of his fare they had provided, with—added to it—the interest which would have accrued over the years since. It came to two and a half thousand pounds and this sum he placed in a bank in the city of Auckland and said in his will that it was to fall to my cousin, Mary. The interest was to be hers so long as she lived, so that she would never be in want.”
“How did he know of her?”
“He kept in touch always with his mother and younger brother. There were letters sent to a friend that were passed on to them, while they were free to write openly to him so long as my grandfather knew nothing of that. Once my grandfather was dead, they were free also to receive letters openly, and when my father died there was a whole small chest containing the letters he had received over more than thirty years. The affection between the brothers remained a great constant in both their lives, and before my uncle died he had planned to bring his wife and daughter on a visit to our farm.”
“But this did not occur.” It was a statement, and Josiah Sutherland nodded.
“No, my uncle died, his wife remarried, and as my father also died about that time, there was a complete, though temporary, lapse in communication between the two families. I cannot swear to it, sir, but from things within the letters I have cause to believe that my uncle’s wife resented her husband’s friendship with my father, and was only too happy to cut her connection upon his death.
“My lawyer said that once she discovered that my father had left a large sum of money to my cousin, Mary, she attempted to have the money transferred to herself instead, but my father had a good lawyer and the trust was firmly established. Perhaps, had the money alone been left to Mary, it could have been diverted since she was barely twenty-one at the time. But it is in trust, and the principal reverts to me on her death, or to my heirs should I also be dead.”
“So you stand to receive two and a half thousand pounds upon the death of your cousin. It is a large sum.” Holmes’ voice was bland.
Josiah Sutherland flushed angrily. “It is nothing to me, sir. I have five times the sum in my bank, and many times that again in the worth of my beasts and land. No, I came here to England to seek out my cousin. Our fathers were brothers and the best of friends, and I would like to know her also as a friend. She continued to write to me after our fathers’ deaths, less often but still regularly, telling me much about her own life, talking of her home,” here he smiled, “and at least one unusual feature of it, and much else so that I became concerned when, some four months ago I ceased to hear from her without knowing any cause for her silence.”
“So you rushed halfway across the world to see what could have happened to a woman you have never met, do not know, and whose death provides well for you?”
The young man leapt to his feet, anger blazing in his eyes. “Sir! I know not why you should make such imputations. The lady is my cousin, the beloved daughter of my uncle, a man who gave all he had that my father should be free in the land he chose. That debt now is mine and I honor it. I will bid you good day.”
He strode for the door and was halted only by the voice behind him. “I must humbly beg your pardon, but previous experience has not given me a high opinion of the men of the Sutherland family.”
Josiah turned back. “Ah, I understand. You speak of Mr. Hosmer Angel, and Mr. Windibank. I would remind you, sir, that neither man was of Sutherland blood.”
Holmes looked at me as he explained further. “I tell you, Watson, I was astounded as that comment. How could he know of that? I believed that Miss Mary had not guessed, and I had never spoken of it to any save the man himself and you. I asked that of the young man, and he smiled.
“You underestimate my cousin while overestimating her step-father. So terrified and enraged was he that some months later he could not forbear to speak of his evil plan and how it had almost failed. He spoke to his wife, my cousin Mary’s mother, in—as he believed—complete privacy, but by a complete accident Mary overheard what was said and was struck to the heart.
“She considered taking a small room where she could at least work at her typing without remaining all day within that household, and that I know she did. However, her mother’s earnest entreaties decided her to remain under their roof, although she was no longer happy in that position. I have brought with me a number of her letters including in particular the letter in which she recounted to me the pitiful tale of her deception, and asking my advice.”
Holmes took the letter in his long fingers. “And what advice did you give her?”
“That she should leave that accursed household at once. What sort of mother allows a man to so trick her daughter? What woman stands as an accomplice to treat her only child in such a way?”
“A woman whose charms are fading and who is desperate to retain the affections of a younger man, one she knows clings to her for the money alone, which she provides. It was to keep Mary’s income within the house that she permitted Mr. Windibank to pretend to be another and ensnare the affections of Mary. It was ill-done, but if they were desperate to retain her daughter and her income without knowledge of their trickery, would they not have been still more anxious that she should not leave if they believed she now knew of their wicked actions and might publish them abroad to others?”
Josiah Sutherland nodded. “I fear, sir, that my advice may have placed Mary in danger, since her last letter states that she intended to take my advice and depart the family home, never to return. I deem my cousin to be a woman of determined character, but perhaps not blessed with an ability to deceive. She is straightforward and of a trusting nature. She planned to take rooms in the city, but I received no further letter and I wonder now if she was ever able to leave. In short, I fear that even now she may be imprisoned or dead. It is for that that I have come to beg your aid to discover the truth.”
“Why do you fear for her?”
“Ah, that is the crux of my story. It was like this, Mr. Holmes. I arrived by ship at the port of London three weeks gone, took a cab on disembarking, and settled myself, together with my luggage, at a convenient hotel of decent repute. I slept early and rose to eat, after the meal I set out to find my cousin. At the address of the room she rented for her work I was told by the building’s caretaker that Mary had departed some time earlier, leaving only a brief note giving up the room and enclosing a sovereign to cover the lack of notice. I went to the address where she had lived previously, and her mother informed me that my cousin was very sick and could see no one.
“For eight days I made regular attempts to see Mary, but I was never allowed past the doorstep. Finally, when I would have insisted more boldly, her mother threatened me with violence by her stepfather and with the law. I was told that Mary was ill, and that if I did not go away, they would summon the police and lay charges of attempted house-breaking against me.”
“Did it not strike you as an extreme measure to threaten against one who was related and concerned only to see his cousin?”
“It did indeed, Mr. Holmes, so much so that I left looking meek, but began at once to make other inquiries about the neighborhood. It is that which has made my fear for Mary grow. She has not been seen to leave with any luggage; indeed, she has not been seen to come or go at all in the past few months. Her mother and stepfather have told