e's audience with the starting-point and the conclusion, one may
produce a startling, though possibly a meretricious, effect. Now, it was
not really difficult, by an inspection of the groove between your left
forefinger and thumb, to feel sure that you did NOT propose to invest
your small capital in the gold fields."

"I see no connection."

"Very likely not; but I can quickly show you a close connection. Here
are the missing links of the very simple chain: 1. You had chalk between
your left finger and thumb when you returned from the club last night.
2. You put chalk there when you play billiards, to steady the cue. 3.
You never play billiards except with Thurston. 4. You told me, four
weeks ago, that Thurston had an option on some South African property
which would expire in a month, and which he desired you to share with
him. 5. Your check book is locked in my drawer, and you have not asked
for the key. 6. You do not propose to invest your money in this manner."

"How absurdly simple!" I cried.

"Quite so!" said he, a little nettled. "Every problem becomes very
childish when once it is explained to you. Here is an unexplained one.
See what you can make of that, friend Watson." He tossed a sheet of
paper upon the table, and turned once more to his chemical analysis.

I looked with amazement at the absurd hieroglyphics upon the paper.

"Why, Holmes, it is a child's drawing," I cried.

"Oh, that's your idea!"

"What else should it be?"

"That is what Mr. Hilton Cubitt, of Riding Thorpe Manor, Norfolk, is
very anxious to know. This little conundrum came by the first post, and
he was to follow by the next train. There's a ring at the bell, Watson.
I should not be very much surprised if this were he."

A heavy step was heard upon the stairs, and an instant later there
entered a tall, ruddy, clean-shaven gentleman, whose clear eyes and
florid cheeks told of a life led far 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 cam