riend from the Langham called for
news--the third time within an hour of this fresh development. His
clothes were getting looser on his great body. He seemed to be wilting
away in his anxiety. "If you will only give me something to do!" was
his constant wail. At last Holmes could oblige him.

"He has begun to pawn the jewels. We should get him now."

"But does this mean that any harm has befallen the Lady Frances?"

Holmes shook his head very gravely.

"Supposing that they have held her prisoner up to now, it is clear that
they cannot let her loose without their own destruction. We must
prepare for the worst."

"What can I do?"

"These people do not know you by sight?"

"No."

"It is possible that he will go to some other pawnbroker in the future.
In that case, we must begin again. On the other hand, he has had a
fair price and no questions asked, so if he is in need of ready-money
he will probably come back to Bovington's. I will give you a note to
them, and they will let you wait in the shop. If the fellow comes you
will follow him home. But no indiscretion, and, above all, no
violence. I put you on your honour that you will take no step without
my knowledge and consent."

For two days the Hon. Philip Green (he was, I may mention, the son of
the famous admiral of that name who commanded the Sea of Azof fleet in
the Crimean War) brought us no news. On the evening of the third he
rushed into our sitting-room, pale, trembling, with every muscle of his
powerful frame quivering with excitement.

"We have him! We have him!" he cried.

He was incoherent in his agitation. Holmes soothed him with a few
words and thrust him into an armchair.

"Come, now, give us the order of events," said he.

"She came only an hour ago. It was the wife, this time, but the
pendant she brought was the fellow of the other. She is a tall, pale
woman, with ferret eyes."

"That is the lady," said Holmes.

"She left the office and I followed her. She walked up the Kennington
Road, and I kept behind her. Presently she went into a shop. Mr.
Holmes, it was an undertaker's."

My companion started. "Well?" he asked in that vibrant voice which
told of the fiery soul behind the cold gray face.

"She was talking to the woman behind the counter. I entered as well.
'It is late,' I heard her say, or words to that effect. The woman was
excusing herself. 'It should be there before now,' she answered. 'It
took longer, be