r. I trust that I
shall soon have to congratulate you upon a successful conclusion. Come,
Watson, I fancy that we may employ ourselves more profitably at home."

During our return journey I could see by Holmes's face that he was much
puzzled by something which he had observed. Every now and then, by an
effort, he would throw off the impression and talk as if the matter were
clear, but then his doubts would settle down upon him again, and his
knitted brows and abstracted eyes would show that his thoughts had gone
back once more to the great dining-room of the Abbey Grange in which
this midnight tragedy had been enacted. At last, by a sudden impulse,
just as our train was crawling out of a suburban station, he sprang on
to the platform and pulled me out after him.

"Excuse me, my dear fellow," said he, as we watched the rear carriages
of our train disappearing round a curve; "I am sorry to make you the
victim of what may seem a mere whim, but on my life, Watson, I simply
CAN'T leave that case in this condition. Every instinct that I possess
cries out against it. It's wrong--it's all wrong--I'll swear that it's
wrong. And yet the lady's story was complete, the maid's corroboration
was sufficient, the detail was fairly exact. What have I to put against
that? Three wine-glasses, that is all. But if I had not taken things for
granted, if I had examined everything with the care which I would have
shown had we approached the case DE NOVO and had no cut-and-dried story
to warp my mind, would I not then have found something more definite
to go upon? Of course I should. Sit down on this bench, Watson, until a
train for Chislehurst arrives, and allow me to lay the evidence before
you, imploring you in the first instance to dismiss from your mind the
idea that anything which the maid or her mistress may have said must
necessarily be true. The lady's charming personality must not be
permitted to warp our judgment.

"Surely there are details in her story which, if we looked at it in cold
blood, would excite our suspicion. These burglars made a considerable
haul at Sydenham a fortnight ago. Some account of them and of their
appearance was in the papers, and would naturally occur to anyone who
wished to invent a story in which imaginary robbers should play a part.
As a matter of fact, burglars who have done a good stroke of business
are, as a rule, only too glad to enjoy the proceeds in peace and quiet
without embarking on another per