rom our friend Overton, and is in answer
to a question from me. I'll just send round a note to Mr. Jeremy Dixon,
and then I have no doubt that our luck will turn. By the way, is there
any news of the match?"

"Yes, the local evening paper has an excellent account in its last
edition. Oxford won by a goal and two tries. The last sentences of
the description say: 'The defeat of the Light Blues may be entirely
attributed to the unfortunate absence of the crack International,
Godfrey Staunton, whose want was felt at every instant of the game. The
lack of combination in the three-quarter line and their weakness both
in attack and defence more than neutralized the efforts of a heavy and
hard-working pack.'"

"Then our friend Overton's forebodings have been justified," said
Holmes. "Personally I am in agreement with Dr. Armstrong, and football
does not come within my horizon. Early to bed to-night, Watson, for I
foresee that to-morrow may be an eventful day."

I was horrified by my first glimpse of Holmes next morning, for he
sat by the fire holding his tiny hypodermic syringe. I associated that
instrument with the single weakness of his nature, and I feared the
worst when I saw it glittering in his hand. He laughed at my expression
of dismay, and laid it upon the table.

"No, no, my dear fellow, there is no cause for alarm. It is not upon
this occasion the instrument of evil, but it will rather prove to be the
key which will unlock our mystery. On this syringe I base all my hopes.
I have just returned from a small scouting expedition and everything is
favourable. Eat a good breakfast, Watson, for I propose to get upon Dr.
Armstrong's trail to-day, and once on it I will not stop for rest or
food until I run him to his burrow."

"In that case," said I, "we had best carry our breakfast with us, for he
is making an early start. His carriage is at the door."

"Never mind. Let him go. He will be clever if he can drive where I
cannot follow him. When you have finished come downstairs with me, and
I will introduce you to a detective who is a very eminent specialist in
the work that lies before us."

When we descended I followed Holmes into the stable yard, where
he opened the door of a loose-box and led out a squat, lop-eared,
white-and-tan dog, something between a beagle and a foxhound.

"Let me introduce you to Pompey," said he. "Pompey is the pride of the
local draghounds, no very great flier, as his build will show, bu