ious to
get possession of it? Because it incriminated him. And what would he do
with it? Thrust it into his pocket, most likely, never noticing that a
corner of it had been left in the grip of the corpse. If we could get
the rest of that sheet it is obvious that we should have gone a long way
towards solving the mystery."

"Yes, but how can we get at the criminal's pocket before we catch the
criminal?"

"Well, well, it was worth thinking over. Then there is another obvious
point. The note was sent to William. The man who wrote it could not have
taken it; otherwise, of course, he might have delivered his own message
by word of mouth. Who brought the note, then? Or did it come through the
post?"

"I have made inquiries," said the Inspector. "William received a letter
by the afternoon post yesterday. The envelope was destroyed by him."

"Excellent!" cried Holmes, clapping the Inspector on the back. "You've
seen the postman. It is a pleasure to work with you. Well, here is the
lodge, and if you will come up, Colonel, I will show you the scene of
the crime."

We passed the pretty cottage where the murdered man had lived, and
walked up an oak-lined avenue to the fine old Queen Anne house, which
bears the date of Malplaquet upon the lintel of the door. Holmes and
the Inspector led us round it until we came to the side gate, which is
separated by a stretch of garden from the hedge which lines the road. A
constable was standing at the kitchen door.

"Throw the door open, officer," said Holmes. "Now, it was on those
stairs that young Mr. Cunningham stood and saw the two men struggling
just where we are. Old Mr. Cunningham was at that window--the second on
the left--and he saw the fellow get away just to the left of that bush.
Then Mr. Alec ran out and knelt beside the wounded man. The ground is
very hard, you see, and there are no marks to guide us." As he spoke two
men came down the garden path, from round the angle of the house. The
one was an elderly man, with a strong, deep-lined, heavy-eyed face; the
other a dashing young fellow, whose bright, smiling expression and showy
dress were in strange contract with the business which had brought us
there.

"Still at it, then?" said he to Holmes. "I thought you Londoners were
never at fault. You don't seem to be so very quick, after all."

"Ah, you must give us a little time," said Holmes good-humoredly.

"You'll want it," said young Alec Cunningham. "Why, I don't see that