olmes gave him a ten-pound
note for his trouble in helping to recapture Budd. At the village, the
three of us lifted the bound, gagged and shackled Budd out of the
wagon and into a passenger coach on the 9:50 train for London, where
Holmes silenced all excited inquirers by calmly showing them his card,
at which every one drew back abashed, some even taking off their hats
at sight of the celebrated name.

In a half-hour's time we arrived at the station in London, and when
Budd was lifted out onto the platform, he showed his still impenitent
desperation by actually trying to escape a third time, handcuffed and
with his ankles tied as he was, by hopping along, both feet together.

We collared him soon, though, and bundled him into a cab for Scotland
Yard, where, upon his arrival, the scoundrel again caused a rumpus by
jumping and twisting around when they went to put him into a
prison-cell, so that it required the combined efforts of four fat
policemen to hold him down.

"Gosh! I feel as if I could sleep for a year, after all that
excitement out at Normanstow Towers!" sighed Holmes, as he mopped his
forehead on arriving finally at our old rooms on Baker Street, about a
quarter after eleven that Friday morning.

"Same here, Holmes. You have nothing on me in that respect," I said,
as I threw off my coat and put on my well-worn lavender smoking
jacket, preparatory to sitting down in my old chair and enjoying a
good, quiet, peaceful smoke before luncheon, far from the madding
diamond-thieves' ignoble strife.

After luncheon, served by our old reliable landlady, Mrs. Hudson, who
still did business at the old stand unmoved by the shame that had
recently come to the noble House of Puddingham, we played chess until
two o'clock, when the mail-carrier brought us an envelope addressed to
Holmes, with an earl's coronet engraved on it. Tearing it open, Holmes
found it to be a short note from our late host and friend the Earl,
with a thin, pale blue check for twenty thousand perfectly good pounds
sterling enclosed with it, drawn on the Bank of England, filled out in
Thorneycroft's handwriting, and signed, as per the nobiliary custom,
with simply the one word: "Puddingham."

"And the date of the check is April 12, 1912, Watson. And now I'm
going to keep my promise I made to you out in the woods yesterday
morning back of the castle," smiled Holmes, "I split with you
fifty-fifty. When I go down to the bank now to deposit this check,