led in
his superior manner, not noticing the eager look with which Doyle
awaited his answer.

'Wrong entirely. I neither wrote any telegram, nor spoke any message,
since I left London.'

'Ah, no,' cried Doyle. 'I see where I went astray. You merely inquired
the way to my house.'

'I needed to make no inquiries. I followed the rear light of the
automobile part way up the hill, and, when that disappeared, I turned
to the right instead of the left, as there was no one out on such a
night from whom I could make inquiry.'

'My deductions, then, are beside the mark,' said Doyle hoarsely, in an
accent which sent cold chills up and down the spine of his invited
guest, but conveyed no intimation of his fate to the self-satisfied
later arrival.

'Of course they were,' said Holmes, with exasperating self-assurance.

'Am I also wrong in deducting that you have had nothing to eat since
you left London?'

'No, you are quite right there.'

'Well, oblige me by pressing that electric button.'

Holmes did so with much eagerness, but, although the trio waited some
minutes in silence, there was no response.

'I deduct from that,' said Doyle, 'that the servants have gone to bed.
After I have quite satisfied all your claims in the way of hunger for
food and gold, I shall take you back in my motor car, unless you
prefer to stay here the night.'

'You are very kind,' said Sherlock Holmes.

'Not at all,' replied Doyle. 'Just take that chair, draw it up to the
table and we will divide the second swag.'

The chair indicated differed from all others in the room. It was
straight-backed, and its oaken arms were covered by two plates,
apparently of German silver. When Holmes clutched it by the arms to
drag it forward, he gave one half-articulate gasp, and plunged
headlong to the floor, quivering. Sir George Newnes sprang up standing
with a cry of alarm. Sir Arthur Conan Doyle remained seated, a
seraphic smile of infinite satisfaction playing about his lips.

'Has he fainted?' cried Sir George.

'No, merely electrocuted. A simple device the Sheriff of New York
taught me when I was over there last.'

'Merciful heavens! Cannot he be resuscitated?'

'My dear Newnes,' said Doyle, with the air of one from whose shoulders
a great weight is lifted, 'a man may fall into the chasm at the foot
of the Reichenbach Fall and escape to record his adventures later, but
when two thousand volts pass through the human frame, the person who
owns t