“S. D.!” I cried. “Those were the initials in the letter Reid received!”

“Precisely. The stretch of water in which she drowned, incidentally, was the ‘Willow Pool’, to which Reid referred yesterday. Her body was discovered by two local youths, who were passing along the footpath that skirts the pool. So far as I can make out from the newspaper reports, the girl was from traditional yeoman stock. She was not especially beautiful, nor especially intellectual, but had a simple charm that endeared her to all who knew her. The reports describe her as friendly, good-hearted and very popular in the district. Now, at the inquest, which was held a few days later in Topley Cross, the verdict recorded was that of accidental death. There was no mark upon the body, save a small bruise to the side of the head, and it was suggested that the girl had slipped from the bank while picking blackberries – her purpose, apparently, in being at that spot – had fallen into the water, and had struck her head on a submerged stone. However, to judge from the tone of some of the newspaper reports, it was widely suspected in the district that the girl had in fact taken her own life while in a state of extreme distress. As you are no doubt aware, Watson, coroners’ juries are notoriously reluctant to bring in a verdict of suicide, save in those cases where the evidence admits of no other conclusion. This is especially so in rural areas, when the deceased is often someone well known to the jurors.”

“Was there any specific evidence that might have suggested the girl had deliberately taken her own life?”

“Her family deposed that she had not seemed quite herself for a week or two, and had taken to wandering off alone, as she had done on the day she died. When questioned during the inquest, they stated that she had been in somewhat better spirits on the day of her death, but this was not confirmed by other witnesses, and it seems likely that the observation was made chiefly to influence the jury against a verdict of suicide.

“It seems there was a man in the case somewhere – the old story, by the sound of it – but he is not named in any of the newspaper reports, and it is not clear from the reports if his identity was known to anyone. A note was found, which the girl had apparently written shortly before her death, in which she had expressed her anguish at being cast aside by this man. Her family confirmed that she had been seeing someone during the summer, but stated that they did not know who it was.”

“Is the man not named in the note she left?” I asked.

“It would appear not. The tone of the note, to judge from the newspaper report, was one of melancholy distress, and it seems that the man she had been seeing had thrown her over. But the court was clearly of the opinion that the note was by way of being an epistle to herself, a record on paper of her own thoughts, and did not constitute a suicide note of any kind, otherwise the verdict would undoubtedly have been different.”

“It appears the very epitome of a rural tragedy,” I observed with a sigh. “One cannot doubt that it is, as you say, the old story: young, simple, innocent country girl, her affections captured by the attentions of a man, perhaps older and more sophisticated than herself, who later drops her without a care.”

My friend nodded. “In which case, although not guilty of any crime in the eyes of the law, strictly speaking, the man in question would be widely held to bear some responsibility for the girl’s death, whether she took her own life or lost it accidentally while in a state of distress. He would thus be subject to the very severest moral condemnation from all who knew of the case. There is little doubt in my mind, Watson, that this is the dishonourable act of which our client stands condemned in the eyes of the district. They will see in the dashing young officer and simple peasant girl the very type of one of the oldest tales known to man. He has sailed away to foreign lands, leaving her desolate, and, in her own eyes at least, ruined. And yet . . .”

Holmes broke off and stared for a moment at his untouched tea.

“And yet,” he continued at length, “Captain Reid expresses astonishment at the reception he has been afforded upon his return and can make nothing of it. He is an intelligent man, and could not have failed to realize the meaning of it were he really guilty of this moral lapse.”

“He did not recognize the initials S. D. in the letter he received,” I observed.

“Indeed. He may know something of the girl, however, as she lived locally, without, perhaps, recalling her name. I have wired to him at his club on the matter, in the hope that seeing her name will stir his memory. I hope to receive a reply shortly.”

Holmes had not long to wait, for within the hour a messenger arrived with a telegram for him. Eagerly, he tore open the envelope and scanned the contents, then passed it to me.

“Name you mention that of local girl,” I read. “Bade good morning. Carried basket once or twice. Not seen since return. Ask Yarrow.”

“It appears he is unaware of the girl’s death,” I observed.

“So it would seem. I wonder—” He broke off as the innkeeper entered the room. “Could you tell me, landlord,” he asked, “who Mr Yarrow might be?”

“Why, sir, that’s the vicar,” returned the man in surprise.

“Oh, of course,” said Holmes, smiling. “How foolish of me. I think I shall go to see him now, Doctor, while it is still light!” With that he stood up, put on his hat and was gone.

“Is your friend interested in the Roman remains?” asked the innkeeper of me when Holmes had left us.

“Among other things,” I replied, judging it best not to reveal our true purpose in being there. “Why do you ask?”

“The last gentlemen down here from London were from the British Museum, come to study the remains,” he explained. “The Reverend Yarrow is the local expert.”

He produced a small pamphlet on the subject, which Mr Yarrow had written. It was certainly a very thorough account. But fascinating though the subject was, I found my mind wandering constantly from its explication of ancient mysteries to the more pressing mystery which had brought us to Sussex, so that I was still only upon the second page of the pamphlet when Holmes returned, just as the daylight was fading. He ordered two glasses of beer and lit his pipe before he described to me what he had managed to learn from the vicar.

“I found Mr Henry Yarrow a very pleasant, middle-aged man,” he began. “He received me with every courtesy, and appears to have as good a grasp of all that occurs in the parish as anyone could have. He is highly intelligent and well-educated, Watson, and I should say a little out of place in such a rural backwater as Topley Cross. Such free time as he has he fills with intellectual pursuits, and he is a great pamphleteer: he has produced numerous monographs on such subjects as local antiquities, the flora and fauna of the district, and the parish church, which, he informs me, is one of the oldest in the county. At present, he is labouring on a history of the sheep breeds of West Sussex. However, to return to more pertinent matters: he knows Captain Reid very well, and it is clear that he holds him in the very highest regard. Indeed, so sincere were his expressions of affection for our client that I ventured to lay before him the whole matter, in the hope that he could shed some light upon it. You have often seen me work out a case, Watson, from such things as the measurement of footprints, or the traces of mud upon a man’s trouser knee, but I am not averse to taking a more direct route when it offers itself. In this case, my confidence was rewarded. The vicar shook his head in sympathy when I described to him all that had befallen Captain Reid since his return from India.

“‘If only he had come to me last week,’ said he. ‘I could at least have explained to him the likely source of his troubles, if not their solution.’