was so surprised and scared he could hardly speak. "Watson, you can
unlock the door up there now, and we'll proceed to the Earl's usual
place of business and disburse unto him his tenth stolen cuff-button.
You fooled me all right yesterday morning, Tooter, but,--by the
brainless cranium of Barnabas Letstrayed, I've certainly got the goods
on you now!"

I unlocked the cellar-door and stepped out into the kitchen, where the
French and Russian pancake-tossers stared in astonishment as Hemlock
Holmes came marching up the cellar-stairs with a firm hand on Uncle
Tooter's shoulder, and then columned left in a parade through the
dining-room on the way to the library.

"At-ten-_shun_!" called out my partner. "Present cuff-button! Salute!
Most noble Earl of Puddingham, here is your tenth and second last
stolen gem!"

Thereupon Holmes laid the glittering thing in the Earl's hand, while
that worthy fell back weakly in his chair and stammered:

"What? Is Uncle Tooter guilty too? Ye gods and little fishes! Up to
the very last I had hoped that none of the disgrace of this robbery
would rest upon his sturdy shoulders, but now I see that it has,
anyhow. And I suppose he claims that Billie Budd made him do it,
against his better nature, like all the other simps you have jerked
up, eh?"

"Yes, Billie Budd was in on this too," replied Holmes, as he
carelessly lit another coffin-nail and turning around, calmly blew the
smoke in the face of Thorneycroft, who had just come in; "but the old
gent didn't have to tell me that. I overheard him conversing to
himself about it down in your worshipful wine-cellar, where he had the
cuff-button hidden under a beer-barrel. If Tooter ever expects to get
along well in the diamond-swiping business, he will certainly have to
cut out the highly reprehensible habit of talking to himself,
particularly when somebody else might be listening. I guess that's
all, Earl, for the present, although if I were you I would keep these
ten recovered cuff-buttons in some safer place than that dinky little
jewel cabinet on your dresser, since a little bird recently informed
me that the desperate William X. Budd, the author of all these
atrocities, is about to visit Normanstow Towers to-morrow morning, and
attempt to carry them all off for good. Be advised in time now,
George."

And Holmes quietly pushed Uncle Tooter into a Turkish rocker back of
him, and walked serenely out of the room, his cocky old head in the
air,