l, the Duke of Balmoral's Iris making a bad
third.

"It's my race, anyhow," gasped the Colonel, passing his hand over his
eyes. "I confess that I can make neither head nor tail of it. Don't you
think that you have kept up your mystery long enough, Mr. Holmes?"

"Certainly, Colonel, you shall know everything. Let us all go round and
have a look at the horse together. Here he is," he continued, as we made
our way into the weighing enclosure, where only owners and their friends
find admittance. "You have only to wash his face and his leg in spirits
of wine, and you will find that he is the same old Silver Blaze as
ever."

"You take my breath away!"

"I found him in the hands of a faker, and took the liberty of running
him just as he was sent over."

"My dear sir, you have done wonders. The horse looks very fit and well.
It never went better in its life. I owe you a thousand apologies
for having doubted your ability. You have done me a great service by
recovering my horse. You would do me a greater still if you could lay
your hands on the murderer of John Straker."

"I have done so," said Holmes quietly.

The Colonel and I stared at him in amazement. "You have got him! Where
is he, then?"

"He is here."

"Here! Where?"

"In my company at the present moment."

The Colonel flushed angrily. "I quite recognize that I am under
obligations to you, Mr. Holmes," said he, "but I must regard what you
have just said as either a very bad joke or an insult."

Sherlock Holmes laughed. "I assure you that I have not associated
you with the crime, Colonel," said he. "The real murderer is standing
immediately behind you." He stepped past and laid his hand upon the
glossy neck of the thoroughbred.

"The horse!" cried both the Colonel and myself.

"Yes, the horse. And it may lessen his guilt if I say that it was
done in self-defence, and that John Straker was a man who was entirely
unworthy of your confidence. But there goes the bell, and as I stand
to win a little on this next race, I shall defer a lengthy explanation
until a more fitting time."

We had the corner of a Pullman car to ourselves that evening as we
whirled back to London, and I fancy that the journey was a short one
to Colonel Ross as well as to myself, as we listened to our
companion's narrative of the events which had occurred at the Dartmoor
training-stables upon the Monday night, and the means by which he had
unravelled them.

"I confess," said he,