I go for the police?"

"We must define the situation a little more clearly. It may bear some
more innocent interpretation. Come, Watson, let us go across ourselves
and see what we can make of it."

Two

As we walked rapidly down Howe Street I glanced back at the building
which we had left. There, dimly outlined at the top window, I could
see the shadow of a head, a woman's head, gazing tensely, rigidly, out
into the night, waiting with breathless suspense for the renewal of
that interrupted message. At the doorway of the Howe Street flats a
man, muffled in a cravat and greatcoat, was leaning against the
railing. He started as the hall-light fell upon our faces.

"Holmes!" he cried.

"Why, Gregson!" said my companion as he shook hands with the Scotland
Yard detective. "Journeys end with lovers' meetings. What brings you
here?"

"The same reasons that bring you, I expect," said Gregson. "How you
got on to it I can't imagine."

"Different threads, but leading up to the same tangle. I've been
taking the signals."

"Signals?"

"Yes, from that window. They broke off in the middle. We came over to
see the reason. But since it is safe in your hands I see no object in
continuing this business."

"Wait a bit!" cried Gregson eagerly. "I'll do you this justice, Mr.
Holmes, that I was never in a case yet that I didn't feel stronger for
having you on my side. There's only the one exit to these flats, so we
have him safe."

"Who is he?"

"Well, well, we score over you for once, Mr. Holmes. You must give us
best this time." He struck his stick sharply upon the ground, on which
a cabman, his whip in his hand, sauntered over from a four-wheeler
which stood on the far side of the street. "May I introduce you to Mr.
Sherlock Holmes?" he said to the cabman. "This is Mr. Leverton, of
Pinkerton's American Agency."

"The hero of the Long Island cave mystery?" said Holmes. "Sir, I am
pleased to meet you."

The American, a quiet, businesslike young man, with a clean-shaven,
hatchet face, flushed up at the words of commendation. "I am on the
trail of my life now, Mr. Holmes," said he. "If I can get Gorgiano--"

"What! Gorgiano of the Red Circle?"

"Oh, he has a European fame, has he? Well, we've learned all about him
in America. We KNOW he is at the bottom of fifty murders, and yet we
have nothing positive we can take him on. I tracked him over from New
York, and I've been close to him for a