They said that my uncle was a friend of theirs, that he died some months before in great poverty in Johannesburg, and that he had asked them with his last breath to hunt up his relations and see that they were in no want.
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It seemed strange to us that Uncle Ralph, who took no notice of us when he was alive, should be so careful to look after us when he was dead; but Mr. Carruthers explained that the reason was that my uncle had just heard of the death of his brother, and so felt responsible for our fate."
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"Excuse me," said Holmes; "when was this interview?"
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"Last December - four months ago."
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"Pray proceed."
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"Mr. Woodley seemed to me to be a most odious person.
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He was for ever making eyes at me - a coarse, puffy-faced, red-moustached young man, with his hair plastered down on each side of his forehead.
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I thought that he was perfectly hateful - and I was sure that Cyril would not wish me to know such a person."
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"Oh, Cyril is his name!" said Holmes, smiling.
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The young lady blushed and laughed.
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"Yes, Mr. Holmes; Cyril Morton, an electrical engineer, and we hope to be married at the end of the summer.
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Dear me, how DID I get talking about him? What I wished to say was that Mr. Woodley was perfectly odious, but that Mr. Carruthers, who was a much older man, was more agreeable.
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He was a dark, sallow, clean-shaven, silent person; but he had polite manners and a pleasant smile.
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He inquired how we were left, and on finding that we were very poor he suggested that I should come and teach music to his only daughter, aged ten.
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I said that I did not like to leave my mother, on which he suggested that I should go home to her every week-end, and he offered me a hundred a year, which was certainly splendid pay.
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So it ended by my accepting, and I went down to Chiltern Grange, about six miles from Farnham.
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Mr. Carruthers was a widower, but he had engaged a lady-housekeeper, a very respectable, elderly person, called Mrs. Dixon, to look after his establishment.
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The child was a dear, and everything promised well.
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Mr. Carruthers was very kind and very musical, and we had most pleasant evenings together.
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Every week-end I went home to my mother in town.
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"The first flaw in my happiness was the arrival of the red-moustached Mr. Woodley.
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He came for a visit of a week, and oh, it seemed three months to me! He was a dreadful person, a bully to everyone else, but to me something infinitely worse.
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He made odious love to me, boasted of his wealth, said that if I married him I would have the finest diamonds in London, and finally, when I would have nothing to do with him, he seized me in his arms one day after dinner - he was hideously strong - and he swore that he would not let me go until I had kissed him.
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Mr. Carruthers came in and tore him off from me, on which he turned upon his own host, knocking him down and cutting his face open.
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That was the end of his visit, as you can imagine.
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