ivered his own message by
word of mouth. Who brought the note, then? Or did it come through the
post?"

"I have made inquiries," said the Inspector. "William received a letter
by the afternoon post yesterday. The envelope was destroyed by him."

"Excellent!" cried Holmes, clapping the Inspector on the back. "You've
seen the postman. It is a pleasure to work with you. Well, here is the
lodge, and if you will come up, Colonel, I will show you the scene of
the crime."

We passed the pretty cottage where the murdered man had lived, and
walked up an oak-lined avenue to the fine old Queen Anne house, which
bears the date of Malplaquet upon the lintel of the door. Holmes and the
Inspector led us round it until we came to the side gate, which is
separated by a stretch of garden from the hedge which lines the road. A
constable was standing at the kitchen door.

"Throw the door open, officer," said Holmes. "Now it was on those stairs
that young Mr. Cunningham stood and saw the two men struggling just
where we are. Old Mr. Cunningham was at that window--the second on the
left--and he saw the fellow get away just to the left of that bush. So
did the son. They are both sure of it, on account of the bush. Then
Mister Alec ran out and knelt beside the wounded man. The ground is very
hard, you see, and there are no marks to guide us."

As he spoke two men came down the garden path, from round the angle of
the house. The one was an elderly man, with a strong, deep-lined,
heavy-eyed face; the other a dashing young fellow, whose bright, smiling
expression and showy dress were in strange contrast with the business
which had brought us there.

"Still at it, then?" said he to Holmes. "I thought you Londoners were
never at fault. You don't seem to be so very quick, after all."

"Ah! you must give us a little time," said Holmes, good-humouredly.

"You'll want it," said young Alec Cunningham. "Why, I don't see that we
have any clue at all."

"There's only one," answered the Inspector. "We thought that if we could
only find----Good heavens! Mr. Holmes, what is the matter?"

My poor friend's face had suddenly assumed the most dreadful expression.
His eyes rolled upwards, his features writhed in agony, and with a
suppressed groan he dropped on his face upon the ground. Horrified at
the suddenness and severity of the attack, we carried him into the
kitchen, where he lay back in a large chair and breathed heavily for
some minutes. Finall