The Exploits of Sherlock Holmes by John Dickson Carr, Adrian Conan Doyle Page B

hear this
    elucidation. I will tell you whether it satisfies me. Would it not demonstrate better breeding
    on your part were you to permit me to state the facts?"
    Holmes's thin lips closed tightly. "Pray do so."
    "My husband is the senior partner of the firm of Cabpleasure & Brown, the well-known
    diamond-brokers of Hatton Garden. Throughout the fifteen years of our wedlock—ugh!—we
    have seldom been separated for more than a fortnight's time, save on the latest and most
    sinister occasion."
    "The latest occasion?"
    "Yes, sir. Only yesterday afternoon James returned home from a protracted six months'
    business journey to Amsterdam and Paris, as idolatrous of that umbrella as ever. Never has he
    been more idolatrous, throughout the full year during which he has worshipped it."
    Sherlock Holmes, who had been sitting with his fingertips pressed together and his long
    legs stretched out, gave a slight start.
    "The full year, madam?" demanded he. "Yet a moment ago you remarked that Mr.
    Cabpleasure had bought the umbrella two and a half years ago. Am I to understand that his
    —his worship dates from just a year ago?"
    "You may certainly so understand it, yes."
    "That is suggestive! That is most suggestive!" My friend looked thoughtful. "But of what?
    We—yes, yes, Watson? What is it? You appear to have become impatient."
    Though it was not often that I ventured to vouchsafe my own suggestion before Holmes
    had asked for one, upon this occasion I could not forbear.
    "Holmes," cried I, "surely this problem is not too difficult? It is an umbrella: it has a curved
    handle, which is probably thick. In a hollow handle, or perhaps some other part of the
    umbrella, it would be easy to hide diamonds or other valuable objects."
    Our guest did not even deign to look at me. "Do you imagine that I would have stooped to
    visit you, Mr. Holmes, if the answer were as simple as all that?"
    "You are sure it is not the true explanation?" Holmes asked quickly.
    "Quite sure. I am sharp, Mr. Holmes," said the lady, whose handsome profile did in truth
    appear to have a knife-edge; "I am very sharp. Let me illustrate. For years after my marriage I
    consented to preside over the Madame Dubarry Salon de Beauté in Bond Street. Why do you
    think that a McRea of McRea would condescend to use such a cognomen as Cabpleasure,
    open as it is to comment from a primitive sense of humour?"
    "Well, madam?"
    "Clients or prospective clients might stare at such a name. But they would remember it."
    "Yes, yes, I confess to having seen the name upon the window. But you spoke of the
    umbrella?"
    "One night some eight months ago, while my husband lay in slumber, I went privily into
    his sleeping-chamber from my own, removed the umbrella from beside his bed, and took it
    downstairs to an artisan."
    "An artisan?"
    "A rough person, employed in the manufacture of umbrellas, whom I had summoned to
    Happiness Villa, The Arbour, Highgate, for that purpose. This person took the umbrella to
    pieces and restored it so ingeniously that my husband was never aware it had been examined.
    Nothing was concealed inside; nothing is concealed inside; nothing could be concealed inside.
    It is a shabby umbrella, and no more."
    "None the less, madam, he may set great store by the umbrella only as some men
    cherish a good-luck charm."
    "On the contrary, Mr. Holmes, he hates it. 'Mrs. Cabpleasure,' he has said to me on more
    than one occasion, 'that umbrella will be the death of me; yet I must not relinquish it!' "
    "H'm! He made no further explanation?"
    "None. And even suppose he keeps the umbrella as a good-luck charm, which he does
    not! When in a moment of abstraction he leaves it behind for only a few seconds, in house
    or office, why does he utter a cry of dread and hasten back for it? If you are not stupid,
    Mr. Holmes, you must have some notion. But I see the matter is beyond you."
    Holmes was grey with anger and mortification.
    "It is a very pretty little problem," said he. "At