At the time of this story, I was st

At the time of this story, I was still living at my friend Sherlock Holmes's flat in Baker Street in London.
Very early one morning, a young woman, dressed in black, came to see us. She looked tired and unhappy, and her face was very white. 'I'm afraid! Afraid of death, Mr Holmes!' she cried. 'Please help me! I'm not thirty yet and look at my grey hair! I'm so afraid!