“She was, I should say, plain and straightforward in all respects, both in appearance and manner. She was certainly not the sort of girl to turn the head of every man in the village, or anything of the sort, but she was not unattractive, in a rustic sort of way. She was a good-hearted girl, honest and hard-working, and the general opinion before her death had been that she would make someone a good wife. At the time of her death, she was, as far as one could ascertain, ‘unattached’, as they say in these parts; but since her death there have been persistent rumours that she had been seeing someone secretly, as you are only too aware.

“On that fateful day, that is, 10 September 1978, after occupying herself in the morning with various tasks about the house and farmyard, Sarah announced that after lunch she intended to pick blackberries up by the Willow Pool. Her brother had also been at home that morning, working on the family farm, but was employed that afternoon, as he often was, on the Topley Grange estate. He therefore said that he would accompany her up the road as far as Jenkin’s Clump, and the two of them set off, she with her basket on her arm, at about a quarter to one. They walked together until they reached the entrance to this wood, just by the humpbacked bridge, as you probably observed, where they parted. Sarah’s last words to her brother were that she would bake a blackberry and apple pie for his tea. That was the last time that she was ever seen alive.

“When she did not return that afternoon, her family were mildly concerned, but not greatly so, for she had of late taken to wandering off alone for hours on end in a brooding sort of manner, which was quite unlike the character she had displayed when younger. Later, in the early evening, two youths were passing along this path through the woods and saw her apparently lifeless body floating in the water. They were too frightened to approach it, and ran down to the village to get help.”

“Do you recall the names of these youths?” asked Holmes.

“Yes. One was Noah Blogg, youngest son of Jack Blogg, who has the hardware shop in the village. He is a bit of a simpleton, I am afraid, but good-natured and harmless.”

“Ah, yes. We met him earlier, just at this spot. Of course, we did not know then that he had been one of those who discovered the girl’s body.”

“It doesn’t surprise me that you saw him here,” Yarrow remarked. “He spends a lot of time up here. The pool appears to possess a morbid fascination for him, and I don’t think he can quite get the girl’s death out of his simple mind. Indeed, it seems to me sometimes that he returns here again and again in the hope of one day seeing her alive once more.” He shook his head and sighed. “The other lad’s name was Harry Cork. He joined the Navy a couple of years ago, and I have not seen him since. I don’t think he has been back to Topley Cross in the last two years.

“When these boys reached the village, the vicarage was, of course, the first house they came to. I was in the garden at the time, for it was a fine evening, and they quickly described to me what they had seen. I instructed them to notify Sarah’s father, and at once set off for this spot in the company of George Childers, the local jobbing gardener, who had been doing some work in my garden when the boys arrived. We got here in a little over ten minutes, I suppose, waded into the water and brought the girl’s body ashore. It was at once clear that she was dead, and had been so for some time.”

“One moment,” interrupted Holmes. “You say that you waded into the water to reach the girl’s body. I take it, then, that it was not far from the bank, for the middle of the pool is too deep for wading, as I ascertained earlier.”

“That is correct. In the middle, the water is a good seven or eight feet deep, but it is quite shallow at the sides. The girl’s body was only a few feet from the bank, and we were easily able to reach it.”

“Which side?” queried Holmes. “This side or the other?”

“The far side, a little higher up the pool than where we are now standing.”

“So – I am sorry to labour the point, Mr Yarrow, but I wish to be quite clear on the matter – you and the gardener went round by the stepping stones to the other side of the pool and approached the body that way?”

“That is correct. The brambles were growing very thickly there, but we were just able to reach the spot. Had she been any higher up the pool I don’t know how we would have reached her, for the brambles were quite impassable further along the bank, and hung right down into the water. As a matter of fact, the poor girl’s hair was caught on these brambles, and Childers and I had the distressing task of trying to disentangle it. Eventually we got her free, lifted the body onto the bank, then carried it round to this side and laid her on the turf here. By this time, several others had arrived. The light was then fading – it was very gloomy in these woods, as you can imagine – and there was nothing to be done for the girl, so between us we carried her lifeless body down to the village.”

“And her basket?”

“Her basket?” repeated the vicar in surprise. “What of it?”

“Someone carried that down to the village, too?”

“I suppose so. Yes, I recall now that someone had it on his arm. I cannot see that it is of any importance.”

“It was not you or Childers that retrieved it?”

“No. Our minds were on somewhat more important matters, Mr Holmes. Someone picked it up. It was just here, on the ground. I really cannot see the point of your interest in the basket.”

“I am a great one for detail, Mr Yarrow. Sometimes, perhaps, I make a vice out of what should be a virtue. Do you recall if there were any blackberries in the basket?”

“No, there were not.”

“Very good. The next day, I understand, you returned here with the dead girl’s mother?”

“Yes, as I described to you last night. The two of us walked up here after lunch. She was in an extremely distressed state. It was then that I saw the slip of paper, down among the brambles by the water’s edge, on the far side.”

“Near where you found the girl’s body?”

“Yes, a foot or two further into the tangle of brambles than the place from which we had entered the water. Just over there.” He pointed across the water to a spot on the far side, a few yards higher up the pool than where we stood.

“It was not in the water?” asked Holmes.

“No. If it had been in the water it would probably have been unreadable. It was a foot or so back from the bank.”

“I see,” said Holmes. “I should very much like to see the note, to complete my mental picture of the matter. Do you think that would be possible? I understand that the girl’s brother keeps it.”

“That is so. I doubt he would take very kindly to exhibiting it, as it were, to strangers, especially if he thought those strangers were acting on behalf of Captain Reid, but perhaps I could persuade him to let us all have a look at it together.” Yarrow glanced at his watch. “I happen to know that he will be at home this afternoon, so if you wish we could go along there now.”

“Capital!” cried Holmes. “I shall be greatly indebted to you, Mr Yarrow!”

The day seemed very bright as we emerged from the shade of the woods, and the sun was surprisingly warm for so late in the year. It was pleasant indeed to walk down that rolling country road in such balmy weather, and to see the hedgerows ablaze with berries, and the clear blue sky alive with birds. When I reflected on our day’s employment, however, I could not but think that we might as well have remained sitting in the parlour of the inn all day, for all the good our expedition had achieved. We had seen for ourselves the place where Sarah Dickens had died, and Holmes had drawn from our companion the details of the matter, but of what use was this to his client, Captain Reid? Whether the girl’s death had been an accident or a deliberate act of suicide could make little difference now, I reflected, and would make no difference whatever to Reid’s predicament. However she had died, he would still stand condemned in the eyes of the parish for having used her so ill, and having brought sorrow and anguish into her happy young life. I was curious to know what Holmes would do next, but could not but feel that so far his energies had been largely wasted.