excited rustic rushed into our room.

"They've gone, Mr. Holmes. They went by the last train. The
lady broke away, and I've got her in a cab downstairs."

"Excellent, Warner!" cried Holmes, springing to his feet.
"Watson, the gaps are closing rapidly."

In the cab was a woman, half-collapsed from nervous exhaustion.
She bore upon her aquiline and emaciated face the traces of some
recent tragedy. Her head hung listlessly upon her breast, but as
she raised it and turned her dull eyes upon us I saw that her
pupils were dark dots in the centre of the broad gray iris. She
was drugged with opium.

"I watched at the gate, same as you advised, Mr. Holmes," said
our emissary, the discharged gardener. "When the carriage came
out I followed it to the station. She was like one walking in
her sleep, but when they tried to get her into the train she came
to life and struggled. They pushed her into the carriage. She
fought her way out again. I took her part, got her into a cab,
and here we are. I shan't forget the face at the carriage window
as I led her away. I'd have a short life if he had his way--the
black-eyed, scowling, yellow devil."

We carried her upstairs, laid her on the sofa, and a couple of
cups of the strongest coffee soon cleared her brain from the
mists of the drug. Baynes had been summoned by Holmes, and the
situation rapidly explained to him.