dge. The latter had not been raised. Holmes
crouched down behind the screen of laurels, and we all three followed
his example.

"Well, what are we to do now?" asked MacDonald with some gruffness.

"Possess our souls in patience and make as little noise as possible,"
Holmes answered.

"What are we here for at all? I really think that you might treat us
with more frankness."

Holmes laughed. "Watson insists that I am the dramatist in real life,"
said he. "Some touch of the artist wells up within me, and calls
insistently for a well-staged performance. Surely our profession, Mr.
Mac, would be a drab and sordid one if we did not sometimes set the
scene so as to glorify our results. The blunt accusation, the brutal
tap upon the shoulder--what can one make of such a denouement? But the
quick inference, the subtle trap, the clever forecast of coming events,
the triumphant vindication of bold theories--are these not the pride
and the justification of our life's work? At the present moment you
thrill with the glamour of the situation and the anticipation of the
hunt. Where would be that thrill if I had been as definite as a
timetable? I only ask a little patience, Mr. Mac, and all will be clear
to you."

"Well, I hope the pride and justification and the rest of it will come
before we all get our death of cold," said the London detective with
comic resignation.

We all had good reason to join in the aspiration; for our vigil was a
long and bitter one. Slowly the shadows darkened over the long, sombre
face of the old house. A cold, damp reek from the moat chilled us to
the bones and set our teeth chattering. There was a single lamp over
the gateway and a steady globe of light in the fatal study. Everything
else was dark and still.

"How long is this to last?" asked the inspector finally. "And what is
it we are watching for?"

"I have no more notion than you how long it is to last," Holmes
answered with some asperity. "If criminals would always schedule their
movements like railway trains, it would certainly be more convenient
for all of us. As to what it is we--Well, that's what we are watching
for!"

As he spoke the bright, yellow light in the study was obscured by
somebody passing to and fro before it. The laurels among which we lay
were immediately opposite the window and not more than a hundred feet
from it. Presently it was thrown open with a whining of hinges, and we
could dimly see the dark outline of a man's h