The ideas of my friend Watson, though limited, are exceedingly
pertinacious. For a long time he has worried me to write an experience
of my own. Perhaps I have rather invited this persecution, since I
have often had occasion to point out to him how superficial are his own
accounts and to accuse him of pandering to popular taste instead of
confining himself rigidly to facts and figures. "Try it yourself,
Holmes!" he has retorted, and I am compelled to admit that, having
taken my pen in my hand, I do begin to realize that the matter must be
presented in such a way as may interest the reader. The following case
can hardly fail to do so, as it is among the strangest happenings in my
collection, though it chanced that Watson had no note of it in his
collection. Speaking of my old friend and biographer, I would take
this opportunity to remark that if I burden myself with a companion in
my various little inquiries it is not done out of sentiment or caprice,
but it is that Watson has some remarkable characteristics of his own,
to which in his modesty he has given small attention amid his
exaggerated estimates of my own performances. A confederate who
foresees your conclusions and course of action is always dangerous, but
one to whom each development comes as a perpetual surprise, and to whom
the future is always a closed book, is, indeed, an ideal helpmate.

I find from my notebook that it was in January, 1903, just after the
conclusion of the Boer War, that I had my visit from Mr. James M. Dodd,
a big, fresh, sunburned, upstanding Briton. The good Watson had at
that time deserted me for a wife, the only selfish action which I can
recall in our association. I was alone.

It is my habit to sit with my back to the window and to place my
visitors in the opposite chair, where the light falls full upon them.
Mr. James M. Dodd seemed somewhat at a loss how to begin the interview.
I did not attempt to help him, for his silence gave me more time for
observation. I have found it wise to impress clients with a sense of
power, and so I gave him some of my conclusions.

"From South Africa, sir, I perceive."

"Yes, sir," he answered, with some surprise.

"Imperial Yeomanry, I fancy."

"Exactly."

"Middlesex Corps, no doubt."

"That is so. Mr. Holmes, you are a wizard."

I smiled at his bewildered expression.

"When a gentleman of virile appearance enters my room with such tan
upon his face as an English sun could never give, and with his
handkerchief in his sleeve instead of in his pocket, it is not
difficult to place him. You wear a short beard, which shows that you
were not a regular. You have the cut of a riding-man. As to
Middlesex, your card has already shown me that you are a stockbroker
from Throgmorton Street. What other regiment would you join?"

"You see everything."

"I see no more than you, but I have trained myself to notice what I
see. However, Mr. Dodd, it was not to discuss the science of
observation that you called upon me this morning. What has been
happening at Tuxbury Old Park?"

"Mr. Holmes----!"

"My dear sir, there is no mystery. Your letter came with that heading,
and as you fixed this appointment in very pressing terms it was clear
that something sudden and important had occurred."

"Yes, indeed. But the letter was written in the afternoon, and a good
deal has happened since then. If Colonel Emsworth had not kicked me
out----"

"Kicked you out!"

"Well, that was what it amounted to. He is a hard nail, is Colonel
Emsworth. The greatest martinet in the Army in his day, and it was a
day of rough language, too. I couldn't have stuck the Colonel if it
had not been for Godfrey's sake."

I lit my pipe and leaned back in my chair.

"Perhaps you will explain what you are talking about."

My client grinned mischievously.

"I had got into the way of supposing that you knew everything without
being told," said he. "But I will give you the facts, and I hope to
God that you will be able to tell me what they mean. I've been awake
all night puzzling my brain, and the more I think the more incredible
does it become.

"When I joined up in January, 1901--just two years ago--young Godfrey
Emsworth had joined the same squadron. He was Colonel Emsworth's only
son--Emsworth, the Crimean V.C.--and he had the fighting blood in him,
so it is no wonder he volunteered. There was not a finer lad in the
regiment. We formed a friendship--the sort of friendship which can
only be made when one lives the same life and shares the same joys and
sorrows. He was my mate--and that means a good deal in the Army. We
took the rough and the smooth together for a year of hard fighting.
Then he was hit with a bullet from an elephant gun in the action near
Diamond Hill outside Pretoria. I got one letter from the hospital at
Cape Town and one from Southampton. Since then not a word--not one
word, Mr. Holmes, for six months and more, and he my closest pal.

"Well, when the war was over, and we all got back, I wrote to his
father and asked where Godfrey was. No answer. I waited a bit and
then I wrote again. This time I had a reply, short and gruff. Godfrey
had gone on a voyage round the world, and it was not likely that he
would be back for a year. That was all.

"I wasn't satisfied, Mr. Holmes. The whole thing seemed to me so
damned unnatural. He was a good lad and he would not drop a pal like
that. It was not like him. Then, again, I happened to know that he
was heir to a lot of money, and also that his father and he did not
always hit it off too well. The old man was sometimes a bully, and
young Godfrey had too much spirit to stand it. No, I wasn't satisfied,
and I determined that I would get to the root of the matter. It
happened, however, that my own affairs needed a lot of straightening
out, after two years' absence, and so it is only this week that I have
been able to take up Godfrey's case again. But since I have taken it
up I mean to drop everything in order to see it through."

Mr. James M. Dodd appeared to be the sort of person whom it would be
better to have as a friend than as an enemy. His blue eyes were stern
and his square jaw had set hard as he spoke.

"Well, what have you done?" I asked.

"My first move was to get down to his home, Tuxbury Old Park, near
Bedford, and to see for myself how the ground lay. I wrote to the
mother, therefore--I had had quite enough of the curmudgeon of a
father--and I made a clean frontal attack: Godfrey was my chum, I had a
great deal of interest which I might tell her of our common
experiences, I should be in the neighbourhood, would there be any
objection, et cetera? In reply I had quite an amiable answer from her
and an offer to put me up for the night. That was what took me down on
Monday.

"Tuxbury Old Hall is inaccessible--five miles from anywhere. There was
no trap at the station, so I had to walk, carrying my suit-case, and it
was nearly dark before I arrived. It is a great wandering house,
standing in a considerable park. I should judge it was of all sorts of
ages and styles, starting on a half-timbered Elizabethan foundation and
ending in a Victorian portico. Inside it was all panelling and
tapestry and half-effaced old pictures, a house of shadows and mystery.
There was a butler, old Ralph, who seemed about the same age as the
house and there was his wife, who might have been older. She had been
Godfrey's nurse, and I had heard him speak of her as second only to his
mother in his affections, so I was drawn to her in spite of her queer
appearance. The mother I liked also--a gentle little white mouse of a
woman. It was only the Colonel himself whom I barred.

"We had a bit of a barney right away, and I should have walked back to
the station if I had not felt that it might be playing his game for me
to do so. I was shown straight into his study, and there I found him,
a huge, bow-backed man with a smoky skin and a straggling grey beard,
seated behind his littered desk. A red-veined nose jutted out like a
vulture's beak, and two fierce grey eyes glared at me from under tufted
brows. I could understand now why Godfrey seldom spoke of his father.

"'Well, sir,' said he in a rasping voice. 'I should be interested to
know the real reasons for this visit.'

"I answered that I had explained them in my letter to his wife.

"'Yes, yes; you said that you had known Godfrey in Africa. We have, of
course, only your word for that.'

"'I have his letters to me in my pocket.'

"'Kindly let me see them.'

"He glanced at the two which I handed him, and then he tossed them back.

"'Well, what then?' he asked.

"'I was fond of your son Godfrey, sir. Many ties and memories united
us. Is it not natural that I should wonder at his sudden silence and
should wish to know what has become of him?'

"'I have some recollection, sir, that I had already corresponded with
you and had told you what had become of him. He has gone upon a voyage
round the world. His health was in a poor way after his African
experiences, and both his mother and I were of opinion that complete
rest and change were needed. Kindly pass that explanation on to any
other friends who may be interested in the matter.'

"'Certainly,' I answered. 'But perhaps you would have the goodness to
let me have the name of the steamer and of the line by which he sailed,
together with the date. I have no doubt that I should be able to get a
letter through to him.'

"My request seemed both to puzzle and to irritate my host. His great
eyebrows came down over his eyes and he tapped his fingers impatiently
on the table. He looked up at last with the expression of one who has
seen his adversary make a dangerous move at chess, and has decided how
to meet it.

"'Many people, Mr. Dodd,' said he, 'would take offence at your infernal
pertinacity and would think that this insistence had reached the point
of damned impertinence.'

"'You must put it down, sir, to my real love for your son.'

"'Exactly. I have already made every allowance upon that score. I
must ask you, however, to drop these inquiries. Every family has its
own inner knowledge and its own motives, which cannot always be made
clear to outsiders, however well-intentioned. My wife is anxious to
hear something of Godfrey's past which you are in a position to tell
her, but I would ask you to let the present and the future alone. Such
inquiries serve no useful purpose, sir, and place us in a delicate and
difficult position.'

"So I came to a dead end, Mr. Holmes. There was no getting past it. I
could only pretend to accept the situation and register a vow inwardly
that I would never rest until my friend's fate had been cleared up. It
was a dull evening. We dined quietly, the three of us, in a gloomy,
faded old room. The lady questioned me eagerly about her son, but the
old man seemed morose and depressed. I was so bored by the whole
proceeding that I made an excuse as soon as I decently could and
retired to my bedroom. It was a large, bare room on the ground floor,
as gloomy as the rest of the house, but after a year of sleeping upon
the veldt, Mr. Holmes, one is not too particular about one's quarters.
I opened the curtains and looked out into the garden, remarking that it
was a fine night with a bright half-moon. Then I sat down by the
roaring fire with the lamp on a table beside me, and endeavoured to
distract my mind with a novel. I was interrupted, however, by Ralph,
the old butler, who came in with a fresh supply of coals.

"'I thought you might run short in the night-time, sir. It is bitter
weather and these rooms are cold.'

"He hesitated before leaving the room, and when I looked round he was
standing facing me with a wistful look upon his wrinkled face.

"'Beg your pardon, sir, but I could not help hearing what you said of
young Master Godfrey at dinner. You know, sir, that my wife nursed
him, and so I may say I am his foster-father. It's natural we should
take an interest. And you say he carried himself well, sir?'

"'There was no braver man in the regiment. He pulled me out once from
under the rifles of the Boers, or maybe I should not be here.'

"The old butler rubbed his skinny hands.

"'Yes, sir, yes, that is Master Godfrey all over. He was always
courageous. There's not a tree in the park, sir, that he has not
climbed. Nothing would stop him. He was a fine boy--and oh, sir, he
was a fine man.'

"I sprang to my feet.

"'Look here!' I cried. 'You say he was. You speak as if he were dead.
What is all this mystery? What has become of Godfrey Emsworth?'

"I gripped the old man by the shoulder, but he shrank away.

"'I don't know what you mean, sir. Ask the master about Master
Godfrey. He knows. It is not for me to interfere.'

"He was leaving the room, but I held his arm.

"'Listen,' I said. 'You are going to answer one question before you
leave if I have to hold you all night. Is Godfrey dead?'

"He could not face my eyes. He was like a man hypnotized. The answer
was dragged from his lips. It was a terrible and unexpected one.

"'I wish to God he was!' he cried, and, tearing himself free, he dashed
from the room.

"You will think, Mr. Holmes, that I returned to my chair in no very
happy state of mind. The old man's words seemed to me to bear only one
interpretation. Clearly my poor friend had become involved in some
criminal, or, at the least, disreputable, transaction which touched the
family honour. That stern old man had sent his son away and hidden him
from the world lest some scandal should come to light. Godfrey was a
reckless fellow. He was easily influenced by those around him. No
doubt he had fallen into bad hands and been misled to his ruin. It was
a piteous business, if it was indeed so, but even now it was my duty to
hunt him out and see if I could aid him. I was anxiously pondering the
matter when I looked up, and there was Godfrey Emsworth standing before
me."

My client had paused as one in deep emotion.

"Pray continue," I said. "Your problem presents some very unusual
features."

"He was outside the window, Mr. Holmes, with his face pressed against
the glass. I have told you that I looked out at the night. When I did
so, I left the curtains partly open. His figure was framed in this
gap. The window came down to the ground and I could see the whole
length of it, but it was his face which held my gaze. He was deadly
pale--never have I seen a man so white. I reckon ghosts may look like
that; but his eyes met mine, and they were the eyes of a living man.
He sprang back when he saw that I was looking at him, and he vanished
into the darkness.

"There was something shocking about the man, Mr. Holmes. It wasn't
merely that ghastly face glimmering as white as cheese in the darkness.
It was more subtle than that--something slinking, something furtive,
something guilty--something very unlike the frank, manly lad that I had
known. It left a feeling of horror in my mind.

"But when a man has been soldiering for a year or two with brother Boer
as a playmate, he keeps his nerve and acts quickly. Godfrey had hardly
vanished before I was at the window. There was an awkward catch, and I
was some little time before I could throw it up. Then I nipped through
and ran down the garden path in the direction that I thought he might
have taken.

"It was a long path and the light was not very good but it seemed to me
something was moving ahead of me. I ran on and called his name, but it
was no use. When I got to the end of the path there were several
others branching in different directions to various outhouses. I stood
hesitating, and as I did so I heard distinctly the sound of a closing
door. It was not behind me in the house, but ahead of me, somewhere in
the darkness. That was enough, Mr. Holmes, to assure me that what I
had seen was not a vision. Godfrey had run away from me and he had
shut a door behind him. Of that I was certain.

"There was nothing more I could do, and I spent an uneasy night turning
the matter over in my mind and trying to find some theory which would
cover the facts. Next day I found the Colonel rather more
conciliatory, and as his wife remarked that there were some places of
interest in the neighbourhood, it gave me an opening to ask whether my
presence for one more night would incommode them. A somewhat grudging
acquiescence from the old man gave me a clear day in which to make my
observations. I was already perfectly convinced that Godfrey was in
hiding somewhere near, but where and why remained to be solved.

"The house was so large and so rambling that a regiment might be hid
away in it and no one the wiser. If the secret lay there, it was
difficult for me to penetrate it. But the door which I had heard close
was certainly not in the house. I must explore the garden and see what
I could find. There was no difficulty in the way, for the old people
were busy in their own fashion and left me to my own devices.

"There were several small outhouses, but at the end of the garden there
was a detached building of some size--large enough for a gardener's or
a gamekeeper's residence. Could this be the place whence the sound of
that shutting door had come? I approached it in a careless fashion, as
though I were strolling aimlessly round the grounds. As I did so, a
small, brisk, bearded man in a black coat and bowler hat--not at all
the gardener type--came out of the door. To my surprise, he locked it
after him and put the key in his pocket. Then he looked at me with
some surprise on his face.

"'Are you a visitor here?' he asked.

"I explained that I was and that I was a friend of Godfrey's.

"'What a pity that he should be away on his travels, for he would have
so liked to see me,' I continued.

"'Quite so. Exactly,' said he, with a rather guilty air. 'No doubt
you will renew your visit at some more propitious time.' He passed on,
but when I turned I observed that he was standing watching me,
half-concealed by the laurels at the far end of the garden.

"I had a good look at the little house as I passed it, but the windows
were heavily curtained, and, so far as one could see, it was empty. I
might spoil my own game, and even be ordered off the premises, if I
were too audacious, for I was still conscious that I was being watched.
Therefore, I strolled back to the house and waited for night before I
went on with my inquiry. When all was dark and quiet, I slipped out of
my window and made my way as silently as possible to the mysterious
lodge.

"I have said that it was heavily curtained, but now I found that the
windows were shuttered as well. Some light, however, was breaking
through one of them, so I concentrated my attention upon this. I was
in luck, for the curtain had not been quite closed, and there was a
crack in the shutter so that I could see the inside of the room. It
was a cheery place enough, a bright lamp and a blazing fire. Opposite
to me was seated the little man whom I had seen in the morning. He was
smoking a pipe and reading a paper."

"What paper?" I asked.

My client seemed annoyed at the interruption of his narrative.

"Can it matter?" he asked.

"It is most essential."

"I really took no notice."

"Possibly you observed whether it was a broad-leafed paper or of that
smaller type which one associates with weeklies."

"Now that you mention it, it was not large. It might have been _The
Spectator_. However, I had little thought to spare upon such details,
for a second man was seated with his back to the window, and I could
swear that this second man was Godfrey. I could not see his face, but
I knew the familiar slope of his shoulders. He was leaning upon his
elbow in an attitude of great melancholy, his body turned towards the
fire. I was hesitating as to what I should do when there was a sharp
tap on my shoulder, and there was Colonel Emsworth beside me.

"'This way, sir!' said he in a low voice. He walked in silence to the
house and I followed him into my own bedroom. He had picked up a
timetable in the hall.

"'There is a train to London at eight-thirty,' said he. 'The trap will
be at the door at eight.'

"He was white with rage, and, indeed, I felt myself in so difficult a
position that I could only stammer out a few incoherent apologies, in
which I tried to excuse myself by urging my anxiety for my friend.

"'The matter will not bear discussion,' said he abruptly. 'You have
made a most damnable intrusion into the privacy of our family. You
were here as a guest and you have become a spy. I have nothing more to
say, sir, save that I have no wish ever to see you again.'

"At this I lost my temper, Mr. Holmes, and I spoke with some warmth.

"'I have seen your son, and I am convinced that for some reason of your
own you are concealing him from the world. I have no idea what your
motives are in cutting him off in this fashion, but I am sure that he
is no longer a free agent. I warn you, Colonel Emsworth, that until I
am assured as to the safety and well-being of my friend I shall never
desist in my efforts to get to the bottom of the mystery, and I shall
certainly not allow myself to be intimidated by anything which you may
say or do.'

"The old fellow looked diabolical, and I really thought he was about to
attack me. I have said that he was a gaunt, fierce old giant, and
though I am no weakling I might have been hard put to it to hold my own
against him. However, after a long glare of rage he turned upon his
heel and walked out of the room. For my part, I took the appointed
train in the morning, with the full intention of coming straight to you
and asking for your advice and assistance at the appointment for which
I had already written."

Such was the problem which my visitor laid before me. It presented, as
the astute reader will have already perceived, few difficulties in its
solution, for a very limited choice of alternatives must get to the
root of the matter. Still, elementary as it was, there were points of
interest and novelty about it which may excuse my placing it upon
record. I now proceeded, using my familiar method of logical analysis,
to narrow down the possible solutions.

"The servants," I asked; "how many were in the house?"

"To the best of my belief there were only the old butler and his wife.
They seemed to live in the simplest fashion."

"There was no servant, then, in the detached house?"

"None, unless the little man with the beard acted as such. He seemed,
however, to be quite a superior person."

"That seems very suggestive. Had you any indication that food was
conveyed from the one house to the other?"

"Now that you mention it, I did see old Ralph carrying a basket down
the garden walk and going in the direction of this house. The idea of
food did not occur to me at the moment."

"Did you make any local inquiries?"

"Yes, I did. I spoke to the station-master and also to the innkeeper
in the village. I simply asked if they knew anything of my old
comrade, Godfrey Emsworth. Both of them assured me that he had gone
for a voyage round the world. He had come home and then had almost at
once started off again. The story was evidently universally accepted."

"You said nothing of your suspicions?"

"Nothing."

"That was very wise. The matter should certainly be inquired into. I
will go back with you to Tuxbury Old Park."

"To-day?"

It happened that at the moment I was clearing up the case which my
friend Watson has described as that of the Abbey School, in which the
Duke of Greyminster was so deeply involved. I had also a commission
from the Sultan of Turkey which called for immediate action, as
political consequences of the gravest kind might arise from its
neglect. Therefore it was not until the beginning of the next week, as
my diary records, that I was able to start forth on my mission to
Bedfordshire in company with Mr. James M. Dodd. As we drove to Euston
we picked up a grave and taciturn gentleman of iron-grey aspect, with
whom I had made the necessary arrangements.

"This is an old friend," said I to Dodd. "It is possible that his
presence may be entirely unnecessary, and, on the other hand, it may be
essential. It is not necessary at the present stage to go further into
the matter."

The narratives of Watson have accustomed the reader, no doubt, to the
fact that I do not waste words or disclose my thoughts while a case is
actually under consideration. Dodd seemed surprised, but nothing more
was said and the three of us continued our journey together. In the
train I asked Dodd one more question which I wished our companion to
hear.

"You say that you saw your friend's face quite clearly at the window,
so clearly that you are sure of his identity?"

"I have no doubt about it whatever. His nose was pressed against the
glass. The lamplight shone full upon him."

"It could not have been someone resembling him?"

"No, no; it was he."

"But you say he was changed?"

"Only in colour. His face was--how shall I describe it?--it was of a
fish-belly whiteness. It was bleached."

"Was it equally pale all over?"

"I think not. It was his brow which I saw so clearly as it was pressed
against the window."

"Did you call to him?"

"I was too startled and horrified for the moment. Then I pursued him,
as I have told you, but without result."

My case was practically complete, and there was only one small incident
needed to round it off. When, after a considerable drive, we arrived
at the strange old rambling house which my client had described, it was
Ralph, the elderly butler, who opened the door. I had requisitioned
the carriage for the day and had asked my elderly friend to remain
within it unless we should summon him. Ralph, a little wrinkled old
fellow, was in the conventional costume of black coat and
pepper-and-salt trousers, with only one curious variant. He wore brown
leather gloves, which at sight of us he instantly shuffled off, laying
them down on the hall-table as we passed in. I have, as my friend
Watson may have remarked, an abnormally acute set of senses, and a
faint but incisive scent was apparent. It seemed to centre on the
hall-table. I turned, placed my hat there, knocked it off, stooped to
pick it up, and contrived to bring my nose within a foot of the gloves.
Yes, it was undoubtedly from them that the curious tarry odour was
oozing. I passed on into the study with my case complete. Alas, that
I should have to show my hand so when I tell my own story! It was by
concealing such links in the chain that Watson was enabled to produce
his meretricious finales.

Colonel Emsworth was not in his room, but he came quickly enough on
receipt of Ralph's message. We heard his quick, heavy step in the
passage. The door was flung open and he rushed in with bristling beard
and twisted features, as terrible an old man as ever I have seen. He
held our cards in his hand, and he tore them up and stamped on the
fragments.

"Have I not told you, you infernal busybody, that you are warned off
the premises? Never dare to show your damned face here again. If you
enter again without my leave I shall be within my rights if I use
violence. I'll shoot you, sir! By God, I will! As to you, sir,"
turning upon me, "I extend the same warning to you. I am familiar with
your ignoble profession, but you must take your reputed talents to some
other field. There is no opening for them here."

"I cannot leave here," said my client firmly, "until I hear from
Godfrey's own lips that he is under no restraint."

Our involuntary host rang the bell.

"Ralph," he said, "telephone down to the county police and ask the
inspector to send up two constables. Tell him there are burglars in
the house."

"One moment," said I. "You must be aware, Mr. Dodd, that Colonel
Emsworth is within his rights and that we have no legal status within
his house. On the other hand, he should recognize that your action is
prompted entirely by solicitude for his son. I venture to hope that,
if I were allowed to have five minutes' conversation with Colonel
Emsworth, I could certainly alter his view of the matter."

"I am not so easily altered," said the old soldier. "Ralph, do what I
have told you. What the devil are you waiting for? Ring up the
police!"

"Nothing of the sort," I said, putting my back to the door. "Any
police interference would bring about the very catastrophe which you
dread." I took out my notebook and scribbled one word upon a loose
sheet. "That," said I, as I handed it to Colonel Emsworth, "is what
has brought us here."

He stared at the writing with a face from which every expression save
amazement had vanished.

"How do you know?" he gasped, sitting down heavily in his chair.

"It is my business to know things. That is my trade."

He sat in deep thought, his gaunt hand tugging at his straggling beard.
Then he made a gesture of resignation.

"Well, if you wish to see Godfrey, you shall. It is no doing of mine,
but you have forced my hand. Ralph, tell Mr. Godfrey and Mr. Kent that
in five minutes we shall be with them."

At the end of that time we passed down the garden path and found
ourselves in front of the mystery house at the end. A small bearded
man stood at the door with a look of considerable astonishment upon his
face.

"This is very sudden, Colonel Emsworth," said he. "This will
disarrange all our plans."

"I can't help it, Mr. Kent. Our hands have been forced. Can Mr.
Godfrey see us?"

"Yes; he is waiting inside." He turned and led us into a large,
plainly furnished front room. A man was standing with his back to the
fire, and at the sight of him my client sprang forward with
outstretched hand.

"Why, Godfrey, old man, this is fine!"

But the other waved him back.

"Don't touch me, Jimmie. Keep your distance. Yes, you may well stare!
I don't quite look the smart Lance-Corporal Emsworth, of B Squadron, do
I?"

His appearance was certainly extraordinary. One could see that he had
indeed been a handsome man with clear-cut features sunburned by an
African sun, but mottled in patches over this darker surface were
curious whitish patches which had bleached his skin.

"That's why I don't court visitors," said he. "I don't mind you,
Jimmie, but I could have done without your friend. I suppose there is
some good reason for it, but you have me at a disadvantage."

"I wanted to be sure that all was well with you, Godfrey. I saw you
that night when you looked into my window, and I could not let the
matter rest till I had cleared things up."

"Old Ralph told me you were there, and I couldn't help taking a peep at
you. I hoped you would not have seen me, and I had to run to my burrow
when I heard the window go up."

"But what in Heaven's name is the matter?"

"Well, it's not a long story to tell," said he, lighting a cigarette.
"You remember that morning fight at Buffelsspruit, outside Pretoria, on
the Eastern railway line? You heard I was hit?"

"Yes, I heard that, but I never got particulars."

"Three of us got separated from the others. It was very broken
country, you may remember. There was Simpson--the fellow we called
Baldy Simpson--and Anderson, and I. We were clearing brother Boer, but
he lay low and got the three of us. The other two were killed. I got
an elephant bullet through my shoulder. I stuck on to my horse,
however, and he galloped several miles before I fainted and rolled off
the saddle.

"When I came to myself it was nightfall, and I raised myself up,
feeling very weak and ill. To my surprise there was a house close
beside me, a fairly large house with a broad stoep and many windows.
It was deadly cold. You remember the kind of numb cold which used to
come at evening, a deadly, sickening sort of cold, very different from
a crisp healthy frost. Well, I was chilled to the bone, and my only
hope seemed to lie in reaching that house. I staggered to my feet and
dragged myself along, hardly conscious of what I did. I have a dim
memory of slowly ascending the steps, entering a wide-opened door,
passing into a large room which contained several beds, and throwing
myself down with a gasp of satisfaction upon one of them. It was
unmade, but that troubled me not at all. I drew the clothes over my
shivering body and in a moment I was in a deep sleep.

"It was morning when I wakened, and it seemed to me that instead of
coming out into a world of sanity I had emerged into some extraordinary
nightmare. The African sun flooded through the big, curtainless
windows, and every detail of the great, bare, whitewashed dormitory
stood out hard and clear. In front of me was standing a small,
dwarf-like man with a huge, bulbous head, who was jabbering excitedly
in Dutch, waving two horrible hands which looked to me like brown
sponges. Behind him stood a group of people who seemed to be intensely
amused by the situation, but a chill came over me as I looked at them.
Not one of them was a normal human being. Every one was twisted or
swollen or disfigured in some strange way. The laughter of these
strange monstrosities was a dreadful thing to hear.

"It seemed that none of them could speak English, but the situation
wanted clearing up, for the creature with the big head was growing
furiously angry and, uttering wild beast cries, he had laid his
deformed hands upon me and was dragging me out of bed, regardless of
the fresh flow of blood from my wound. The little monster was as
strong as a bull, and I don't know what he might have done to me had
not an elderly man who was clearly in authority been attracted to the
room by the hubbub. He said a few stern words in Dutch and my
persecutor shrank away. Then he turned upon me, gazing at me in the
utmost amazement.

"'How in the world did you come here?' he asked, in amazement. 'Wait a
bit! I see that you are tired out and that wounded shoulder of yours
wants looking after. I am a doctor, and I'll soon have you tied up.
But, man alive! you are in far greater danger here than ever you were
on the battlefield. You are in the Leper Hospital, and you have slept
in a leper's bed.'

"Need I tell you more, Jimmie? It seems that in view of the
approaching battle all these poor creatures had been evacuated the day
before. Then, as the British advanced, they had been brought back by
this, their medical superintendent, who assured me that, though he
believed he was immune to the disease, he would none the less never
have dared to do what I had done. He put me in a private room, treated
me kindly, and within a week or so I was removed to the general
hospital at Pretoria.

"So there you have my tragedy. I hoped against hope, but it was not
until I had reached home that the terrible signs which you see upon my
face told me that I had not escaped. What was I to do? I was in this
lonely house. We had two servants whom we could utterly trust. There
was a house where I could live. Under pledge of secrecy, Mr. Kent, who
is a surgeon, was prepared to stay with me. It seemed simple enough on
those lines. The alternative was a dreadful one--segregation for life
among strangers with never a hope of release. But absolute secrecy was
necessary, or even in this quiet country-side there would have been an
outcry, and I should have been dragged to my horrible doom. Even you,
Jimmie--even you had to be kept in the dark. Why my father has
relented I cannot imagine."

Colonel Emsworth pointed to me.

"This is the gentleman who forced my hand." He unfolded the scrap of
paper on which I had written the word "Leprosy." "It seemed to me that
if he knew so much as that it was safer that he should know all."

"And so it was," said I. "Who knows but good may come of it? I
understand that only Mr. Kent has seen the patient. May I ask, sir, if
you are an authority on such complaints, which are, I understand,
tropical or semi-tropical in their nature?"

"I have the ordinary knowledge of the educated medical man," he
observed, with some stiffness.

"I have no doubt, sir, that you are fully competent, but I am sure that
you will agree that in such a case a second opinion is valuable. You
have avoided this, I understand, for fear that pressure should be put
upon you to segregate the patient."

"That is so," said Colonel Emsworth.

"I foresaw this situation," I explained, "and I have brought with me a
friend whose discretion may absolutely be trusted. I was able once to
do him a professional service, and he is ready to advise as a friend
rather than as a specialist. His name is Sir James Saunders."

The prospect of an interview with Lord Roberts would not have excited
greater wonder and pleasure in a raw subaltern than was now reflected
upon the face of Mr. Kent.

"I shall indeed be proud," he murmured.

"Then I will ask Sir James to step this way. He is at present in the
carriage outside the door. Meanwhile, Colonel Emsworth, we may perhaps
assemble in your study, where I could give the necessary explanations."

And here it is that I miss my Watson. By cunning questions and
ejaculations of wonder he could elevate my simple art, which is but
systematized common sense, into a prodigy. When I tell my own story I
have no such aid. And yet I will give my process of thought even as I
gave it to my small audience, which included Godfrey's mother, in the
study of Colonel Emsworth.

"That process," said I, "starts upon the supposition that when you have
eliminated all which is impossible, then whatever remains however
improbable, must be the truth. It may well be that several
explanations remain, in which case one tries test after test until one
or other of them has a convincing amount of support. We will now apply
this principle to the case in point. As it was first presented to me,
there were three possible explanations of the seclusion or
incarceration of this gentleman in an outhouse of his father's mansion.
There was the explanation that he was in hiding for a crime, or that he
was mad and that they wished to avoid an asylum, or that he had some
disease which caused his segregation. I could think of no other
adequate solutions. These, then, had to be sifted and balanced against
each other.

"The criminal solution would not bear inspection. No unsolved crime
had been reported from that district. I was sure of that. If it were
some crime not yet discovered, then clearly it would be to the interest
of the family to get rid of the delinquent and send him abroad rather
than keep him concealed at home. I could see no explanation for such a
line of conduct.

"Insanity was more plausible. The presence of the second person in the
outhouse suggested a keeper. The fact that he locked the door when he
came out strengthened the supposition and gave the idea of constraint.
On the other hand, this constraint could not be severe or the young man
could not have got loose and come down to have a look at his friend.
You will remember, Mr. Dodd, that I felt round for points, asking you,
for example, about the paper which Mr. Kent was reading. Had it been
_The Lancet_ or _The British Medical Journal_ it would have helped me.
It is not illegal, however, to keep a lunatic upon private premises so
long as there is a qualified person in attendance and that the
authorities have been duly notified. Why, then, all this desperate
desire for secrecy? Once again I could not get the theory to fit the
facts.

"There remained the third possibility, into which, rare and unlikely as
it was, everything seemed to fit. Leprosy is not uncommon in South
Africa. By some extraordinary chance this youth might have contracted
it. His people would be placed in a very dreadful position, since they
would desire to save him from segregation. Great secrecy would be
needed to prevent rumours from getting about and subsequent
interference by the authorities. A devoted medical man, if
sufficiently paid, would easily be found to take charge of the
sufferer. There would be no reason why the latter should not be
allowed freedom after dark. Bleaching of the skin is a common result
of the disease. The case was a strong one--so strong that I determined
to act as if it were actually proved. When on arriving here I noticed
that Ralph, who carries out the meals, had gloves which are impregnated
with disinfectants, my last doubts were removed. A single word showed
you, sir, that your secret was discovered, and if I wrote rather than
said it, it was to prove to you that my discretion was to be trusted."

I was finishing this little analysis of the case when the door was
opened and the austere figure of the great dermatologist was ushered
in. But for once his sphinx-like features had relaxed and there was a
warm humanity in his eyes. He strode up to Colonel Emsworth and shook
him by the hand.

"It is often my lot to bring ill-tidings, and seldom good," said he.
"This occasion is the more welcome. It is not leprosy."

"What?"

"A well-marked case of pseudo-leprosy or ichthyosis, a scale-like
affection of the skin, unsightly, obstinate, but possibly curable, and
certainly non-infective. Yes, Mr. Holmes, the coincidence is a
remarkable one. But is it coincidence? Are there not subtle forces at
work of which we know little? Are we assured that the apprehension,
from which this young man has no doubt suffered terribly since his
exposure to its contagion, may not produce a physical effect which
simulates that which it fears? At any rate, I pledge my professional
reputation---- But the lady has fainted! I think that Mr. Kent had
better be with her until she recovers from this joyous shock."