presume that you made an inventory of what he had in his pockets at
the time of his death, Inspector?"

"I have the things themselves in the sitting-room, if you would care to
see them."

"I should be very glad." We all filed into the front room and sat round
the central table while the Inspector unlocked a square tin box and laid
a small heap of things before us. There was a box of vestas, two inches
of tallow candle, an A D P brier-root pipe, a pouch of seal-skin with
half an ounce of long-cut Cavendish, a silver watch with a gold chain,
five sovereigns in gold, an aluminum pencil-case, a few papers, and an
ivory-handled knife with a very delicate, inflexible blade marked Weiss
& Co., London.

"This is a very singular knife," said Holmes, lifting it up and
examining it minutely. "I presume, as I see blood-stains upon it, that
it is the one which was found in the dead man's grasp. Watson, this
knife is surely in your line?"

"It is what we call a cataract knife," said I.

"I thought so. A very delicate blade devised for very delicate work.
A strange thing for a man to carry with him upon a rough expedition,
especially as it would not shut in his pocket."

"The tip was guarded by a disk of cork which we found beside his body,"
said the Inspector. "His wife tells us that the knife had lain upon the
dressing-table, and that he had picked it up as he left the room. It was
a poor weapon, but perhaps the best that he could lay his hands on at
the moment."

"Very possible. How about these papers?"

"Three of them are receipted hay-dealers' accounts. One of them is a
letter of instructions from Colonel Ross. This other is a milliner's
account for thirty-seven pounds fifteen made out by Madame Lesurier,
of Bond Street, to William Derbyshire. Mrs. Straker tells us that
Derbyshire was a friend of her husband's and that occasionally his
letters were addressed here."

"Madam Derbyshire had somewhat expensive tastes," remarked Holmes,
glancing down the account. "Twenty-two guineas is rather heavy for a
single costume. However there appears to be nothing more to learn, and
we may now go down to the scene of the crime."

As we emerged from the sitting-room a woman, who had been waiting in
the passage, took a step forward and laid her hand upon the Inspector's
sleeve. Her face was haggard and thin and eager, stamped with the print
of a recent horror.

"Have you got them? Have you found them?" she panted.

"No, Mrs. Stra