from the fogs of Baker Street. He
seemed to bring a whiff of his strong, fresh, bracing, east-coast air
with him as he entered. Having shaken hands with each of us, he was
about to sit down when his eye rested upon the paper with the curious
markings, which I had just examined and left upon the table.

"Well, Mr. Holmes, what do you make of these?" he cried. "They told me
that you were fond of queer mysteries, and I don't think you can find a
queerer one than that. I sent the paper on ahead so that you might have
time to study it before I came."

"It is certainly rather a curious production," said Holmes. "At first
sight it would appear to be some childish prank. It consists of a number
of absurd little figures dancing across the paper upon which they
are drawn. Why should you attribute any importance to so grotesque an
object?"

"I never should, Mr. Holmes. But my wife does. It is frightening her to
death. She says nothing, but I can see terror in her eyes. That's why I
want to sift the matter to the bottom."

Holmes held up the paper so that the sunlight shone full upon it. It was
a page torn from a note-book. The markings were done in pencil, and ran
in this way:--

GRAPHIC

Holmes examined it for some time, and then, folding it carefully up, he
placed it in his pocket-book.

"This promises to be a most interesting and unusual case," said he.
"You gave me a few particulars in your letter, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, but I
should be very much obliged if you would kindly go over it all again for
the benefit of my friend, Dr. Watson."

"I'm not much of a story-teller," said our visitor, nervously clasping
and unclasping his great, strong hands. "You'll just ask me anything
that I don't make clear. I'll begin at the time of my marriage last
year; but I want to say first of all that, though I'm not a rich man, my
people have been at Ridling Thorpe for a matter of five centuries, and
there is no better known family in the County of Norfolk. Last year I
came up to London for the Jubilee, and I stopped at a boarding-house in
Russell Square, because Parker, the vicar of our parish, was staying in
it. There was an American young lady there--Patrick was the name--Elsie
Patrick. In some way we became friends, until before my month was up
I was as much in love as a man could be. We were quietly married at
a registry office, and we returned to Norfolk a wedded couple. You'll
think it very mad, Mr. Holmes, that a man of a good old