" cried Hemlock
Holmes, as he rubbed his hands with pleasure. "Gather up this mazuma,
Watson, and give His Nibs a receipt for it, as we are both after the
coin, only you haven't got the nerve to admit it. Well, Mr.
Wormyloft,--er, I mean Thorneycroft,--tell the Earl of Puddingham that
I and my bone-headed assistant here will guarantee to give him a run
for his money, and that if we don't find the ancestral cuff-buttons,
at least we'll tear up half of County Surrey looking for them!"

Our bald-headed visitor here took up his hat and umbrella and opened
the door, about to depart.

"Gosh, it's raining worse than ever now!" he said. "Well, I've got to
shovel dust,--or, rather, mud,--back to Normanstow Towers, anyhow, or
the Earl will raise the deuce with me! Be sure to come out on the next
train after this, Mr. Holmes, which leaves London at one-twenty-two,
as the Earl will be expecting you, and what's more, he'll have a
coach-and-four waiting for you at the Hedge-gutheridge station. So
long!"

And the Earl's secretary stepped out, closed the door after him, and
was gone.

As we heard him going down the stairs, and then leaving by the outer
door, Holmes got up, shook himself, stretched out his lanky arms, and
yawned.

"Well, we've got a hundred pounds in gold here, Watson," he said. "Now
it's up to us to scare up a good bluff at earning it! Let's see,--it's
ten o'clock now, and we must leave the rooms at one o'clock to get to
the station for the one-twenty-two train. So we'll have luncheon,--or
lunch, just as you prefer,--at twelve-thirty. That leaves me two hours
and a half to read 'Old Nick Carter.'"

Hemlock got out several yellow-back dime-novels from the book-rack in
the corner, pulled the Morris chair over to the window, and started in
on his light literature.

"What! Aren't you worrying about the Puddingham cuff-buttons at all?
Aren't you going to try to dope out an explanation of their
disappearance?" I inquired anxiously.

"There you go again, Watson, you old boob!" my friend replied. "How
many times must I tell you that it is a capital mistake to theorize in
advance of the facts! Keep your shirt on till we get out to the
castle, Doc; and in the meantime _ich kebibble_ who swiped the
cuff-buttons!"

I knew from long experience that it was useless to argue with him, so
I just sat there like a bump on a log for the rest of the morning,
wondering why the Sam Hill it was that I still continued to swallow