ever it was, first took off this ring you
call the nugget ring, then the wedding ring, and afterwards put the
nugget ring back again."

"That is so!"

The worthy country policeman shook his head. "Seems to me the sooner we
get London on to this case the better," said he. "White Mason is a
smart man. No local job has ever been too much for White Mason. It
won't be long now before he is here to help us. But I expect we'll have
to look to London before we are through. Anyhow, I'm not ashamed to say
that it is a deal too thick for the likes of me."

Chapter 4

Darkness

At three in the morning the chief Sussex detective, obeying the urgent
call from Sergeant Wilson of Birlstone, arrived from headquarters in a
light dog-cart behind a breathless trotter. By the five-forty train in
the morning he had sent his message to Scotland Yard, and he was at the
Birlstone station at twelve o'clock to welcome us. White Mason was a
quiet, comfortable-looking person in a loose tweed suit, with a
clean-shaved, ruddy face, a stoutish body, and powerful bandy legs
adorned with gaiters, looking like a small farmer, a retired
gamekeeper, or anything upon earth except a very favourable specimen of
the provincial criminal officer.

"A real downright snorter, Mr. MacDonald!" he kept repeating. "We'll
have the pressmen down like flies when they understand it. I'm hoping
we will get our work done before they get poking their noses into it
and messing up all the trails. There has been nothing like this that I
can remember. There are some bits that will come home to you, Mr.
Holmes, or I am mistaken. And you also, Dr. Watson; for the medicos
will have a word to say before we finish. Your room is at the Westville
Arms. There's no other place; but I hear that it is clean and good. The
man will carry your bags. This way, gentlemen, if you please."

He was a very bustling and genial person, this Sussex detective. In ten
minutes we had all found our quarters. In ten more we were seated in
the parlour of the inn and being treated to a rapid sketch of those
events which have been outlined in the previous chapter. MacDonald made
an occasional note, while Holmes sat absorbed, with the expression of
surprised and reverent admiration with which the botanist surveys the
rare and precious bloom.

"Remarkable!" he said, when the story was unfolded, "most remarkable! I
can hardly recall any case where the features have been more peculiar."

"I though