he neck of his unfortunate victim--and so
he ruined all. Let us descend, Lestrade. There are just one or two
questions that I would ask him."

The malignant creature was seated in his own parlour with a policeman
upon each side of him.

"It was a joke, my good sir, a practical joke, nothing more," he whined
incessantly. "I assure you, sir, that I simply concealed myself in order
to see the effect of my disappearance, and I am sure that you would not
be so unjust as to imagine that I would have allowed any harm to befall
poor young Mr. McFarlane."

"That's for a jury to decide," said Lestrade. "Anyhow, we shall have you
on a charge of conspiracy, if not for attempted murder."

"And you'll probably find that your creditors will impound the banking
account of Mr. Cornelius," said Holmes.

The little man started and turned his malignant eyes upon my friend.

"I have to thank you for a good deal," said he. "Perhaps I'll pay my
debt some day."

Holmes smiled indulgently.

"I fancy that for some few years you will find your time very fully
occupied," said he. "By the way, what was it you put into the wood-pile
besides your old trousers? A dead dog, or rabbits, or what? You won't
tell? Dear me, how very unkind of you! Well, well, I dare say that a
couple of rabbits would account both for the blood and for the charred
ashes. If ever you write an account, Watson, you can make rabbits serve
your turn."

*****

THE STRAND MAGAZINE
Vol. 26 DECEMBER, 1903
THE RETURN OF SHERLOCK HOLMES.
By ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.

III.--The Adventure of the Dancing Men.

HOLMES had been seated for some hours in silence with his long,
thin back curved over a chemical vessel in which he was brewing a
particularly malodorous product. His head was sunk upon his breast, and
he looked from my point of view like a strange, lank bird, with dull
grey plumage and a black top-knot.

"So, Watson," said he, suddenly, "you do not propose to invest in South
African securities?"

I gave a start of astonishment. Accustomed as I was to Holmes's curious
faculties, this sudden intrusion into my most intimate thoughts was
utterly inexplicable.

"How on earth do you know that?" I asked.

He wheeled round upon his stool, with a steaming test-tube in his hand
and a gleam of amusement in his deep-set eyes.

"Now, Watson, confess yourself utterly taken aback," said he