y have engaged
a furnished house. Once inside it, they have made her a prisoner, and
they have become possessed of the valuable jewellery which has been
their object from the first. Already they have begun to sell part of
it, which seems safe enough to them, since they have no reason to think
that anyone is interested in the lady's fate. When she is released she
will, of course, denounce them. Therefore, she must not be released.
But they cannot keep her under lock and key forever. So murder is their
only solution."

"That seems very clear."

"Now we will take another line of reasoning. When you follow two
separate chains of thought, Watson, you will find some point of
intersection which should approximate to the truth. We will start now,
not from the lady but from the coffin and argue backward. That
incident proves, I fear, beyond all doubt that the lady is dead. It
points also to an orthodox burial with proper accompaniment of medical
certificate and official sanction. Had the lady been obviously
murdered, they would have buried her in a hole in the back garden. But
here all is open and regular. What does this mean? Surely that they
have done her to death in some way which has deceived the doctor and
simulated a natural end--poisoning, perhaps. And yet how strange that
they should ever let a doctor approach her unless he were a
confederate, which is hardly a credible proposition."

"Could they have forged a medical certificate?"

"Dangerous, Watson, very dangerous. No, I hardly see them doing that.
Pull up, cabby! This is evidently the undertaker's, for we have just
passed the pawnbroker's. Would you go in, Watson? Your appearance
inspires confidence. Ask what hour the Poultney Square funeral takes
place to-morrow."

The woman in the shop answered me without hesitation that it was to be
at eight o'clock in the morning. "You see, Watson, no mystery;
everything above-board! In some way the legal forms have undoubtedly
been complied with, and they think that they have little to fear.
Well, there's nothing for it now but a direct frontal attack. Are you
armed?"

"My stick!"

"Well, well, we shall be strong enough. 'Thrice is he armed who hath
his quarrel just.' We simply can't afford to wait for the police or to
keep within the four corners of the law. You can drive off, cabby.
Now, Watson, we'll just take our luck together, as we have occasionally
in the past."

He had rung loudly at t