“He confirmed what we had surmised, that rumours have circulated ever since the death of Sarah Dickens that Reid was the cause of her sorrow and despair. He assured me that he gave no credit to these rumours himself, but having had no countervailing information, had been unable to combat the prevalent belief. ‘I have always found,’ said he with feeling, ‘that an evil rumour is quite the most difficult of opponents to destroy: like the hydra of classical mythology it is a many-headed beast: cut off one head and another seven will spring up in its place.’ I concurred with this opinion, and asked if he knew anything of the rumour’s origins.

“‘I cannot be certain,’ said he, ‘but the dead girl’s brother, John, has undoubtedly played some part in it. If he did not originate the rumour, he has at least contributed to it, and to no small extent.’ This brother, Yarrow informed me, had been extremely distressed by his sister’s death, and treasures the note that the girl left, both as a memento of his sister and as an indictment against the man he believes treated her so ill. I asked the vicar then if he had any knowledge of the content of the note.

“‘Indeed,’ said he, ‘for it was I that found it.’

“This was news indeed, Watson, for I had assumed from the reports in the newspaper that the note had been found among the dead girl’s belongings at her home, probably by one of the family. I asked the vicar how he had come upon it.

“‘It was on the day following the girl’s death,’ he explained. ‘Her mother expressed a wish to visit the place at which the girl’s body had been found, and asked me if I would accompany her. I of course agreed to this request, and the two of us walked up to that fateful spot at the Willow Pool. It was while we were there that I chanced to observe a crumpled sheet of paper lying among the brambles by the water’s edge and, with some difficulty, managed to retrieve it. We had missed it the previous evening, which is not surprising. The light had almost faded by the time we eventually recovered the girl’s body from the water.’

“‘Did the finding of the note at the scene of her death not tend to confirm the suspicion that the girl had taken her own life?’ I asked him, but he shook his head.

“‘It was not a suicide note,’ said he with emphasis. ‘I should be more inclined to describe it as a rhetorical address to the man that had wronged her. The general opinion, with which I agreed, was that the poor girl had probably been reading the note to herself and reflecting upon it when she lost her footing and slipped into the water. As to the note itself,’ he continued, ‘I can recall its contents clearly, even though it is three years since last I saw it. The phrases it contained were just such as one might imagine a young country girl to use: “I trusted you and you betrayed me. I loved you and you used me”. Need I say more, Mr Holmes?’

“I shook my head, for I could see that it caused him some pain to recall this distressing matter. ‘Why do you suppose that everyone believed Captain Reid to be the man who broke this young girl’s heart?’ I asked him after a moment.

“‘I cannot say for certain,’ he returned. ‘It may be that something the girl had previously said to her family suggested it to them. It cannot have been any more than a suggestion, however, for I know that they had no more definite knowledge as to the man’s identity than anyone else. Reid had certainly spoken to the girl on many occasions. He is an exceptionally affable young man and was on conversational terms with almost everyone in the parish, irrespective of their rank or station. He also played regularly in the village cricket matches before his overseas posting, and as Sarah Dickens often helped with the refreshments on those occasions, no doubt the two of them came into contact then.’

“‘He also mentioned carrying her basket for her once or twice.’

“‘Ah, yes,’ responded Yarrow. ‘He may have done so many times, for all I can say, but on the occasion I recall, which occurred in the summer before he left for India, he and I were walking down the road from Oakbrook Hall to the village when we overtook Sarah Dickens, heavily laden with large baskets of fruit – plums, as I recall – which she had picked at one of the outlying farms. We naturally each took a basket to relieve her of some of her burden. At the church I left them, and the two walked on into the village together. I do recall now hearing that the girl had endured some light-hearted teasing on account of this incident. You can probably imagine the form that this took: “Now you have got the young gentleman to carry your basket for you, how much longer will it be before he is carrying you over the threshold?” It was, as I say, all light-hearted. Indeed, I believe it was Reid himself who mentioned it to me, in some amusement, the next time we spoke. But recalling this incident reminds me of another, which occurred at about the same time, just a few weeks before Reid left. In common with many of the young people in the village, Sarah Dickens was employed at Oakbrook during the apple-picking season. One day, during a period of exceptionally hot weather, she fainted with the heat and fell to the ground. With the help of one of the gardening staff, Captain Reid, who was nearby at the time, carried her to the house, where she remained, attended by the housekeeper, until she recovered. I suppose that that may have given rise to some talk, but if so it was absurd, for Reid would have done the same for anyone under the circumstances.’

“‘I believe I understand the situation,’ said I. ‘But if Sarah Dickens was indeed seeing a young man during the summer of ’78, and if that man was not Reid, who might it have been?’

“‘There, Mr Holmes, I fear I cannot help you. Of course, I have often pondered that very question. But the ways of young people have become something of a mystery to me in recent years, I regret to say, and even to speculate upon the matter would take me quite beyond my province.’

“There I left it, Watson – a sad business for all concerned, but a particular misfortune for Captain Reid to be condemned for something of which he is perfectly innocent. What a great pity it is that he should have left the district at just the moment he did, and thus presented the rumour-mongers with a defenceless quarry, unable to respond to their foul accusations!”

“If any accusations were being made,” I interjected, “it seems surprising that Reid’s father did not take some steps to rebut them. He might, for instance, have placed the details of the rumours before his son in a letter and sought his response.”

“Indeed,” concurred Holmes. “The father’s actions in this matter have caused me some puzzlement.”

“Unless,” I added, “the rumours and accusations appeared so overwhelming by the time they reached his ears that he felt unable to doubt their veracity. He is an old soldier and, from what we have heard of him, no doubt a man of unimpeachable integrity and honour. It is possible, also, that his wife’s health was causing him anxiety at the time. Perhaps, then, he was simply so shocked and appalled by his son’s alleged conduct that he could not bring himself to speak of it.”

“It is possible,” returned Holmes in a dubious tone, “but I would still regard the father’s conduct as astonishing. I should hope that if ever I had a son, and that son was faced with serious accusations, I should not see fit to condemn him without a fair hearing. Still, I long ago learned that one cannot hope to solve these little mysteries of human life by dwelling on how people might have acted, but only by studying how they in fact did act, however surprising or disagreeable their actions might seem.

“Now,” he continued in a brisker tone as he refilled his pipe and put a match to it. “If we review the case so far, Watson, I think we may say that we have made some definite progress. We have learned beyond doubt why it is that Captain Reid is shunned and condemned throughout the district. That seems to me a fair day’s work. Our task now must be to do our utmost to clear him of the charges laid against him.”