“None, save that she hated him. Again and again she said so.”
“Well, that is not unknown among stepmothers. A posthumous jealousy, we will say. Is the lady jealous by nature?”
“Yes, she is very jealous—jealous with all the strength of her fiery tropical love.”
“But the boy—he is fifteen, I understand, and probably very developed in mind, since his body has been circumscribed in action. Did he give you no explanation of these assaults?”
“No; he declared there was no reason.”
“Were they good friends at other times?”
“No; there was never any love between them.”
“Yet you say he is affectionate?”
“Never in the world could there be so devoted a son. My life is his life. He is absorbed in what I say or do.”
Once again Holmes made a note. For some time he sat lost in thought.
“No doubt you and the boy were great comrades before this second marriage. You were thrown very close together, were you not?”
“Very much so.”
“And the boy, having so affectionate a nature, was devoted, no doubt, to the memory of his mother?”
“Most devoted.”
“He would certainly seem to be a most interesting lad. There is one other point about these assaults. Were the strange attacks upon the baby and the assaults upon your son at the same period?”
“In the first case it was so. It was as if some frenzy
