d to the music
room, where the Countess Annabelle entertained us as on the evening
before, playing a number of selections on the piano, including one
little song entitled, "Once I Loved A Spanish Maid," which she
repeated a couple of times with the evident purpose of kidding her
uncle about his forthcoming marriage with her maid Teresa.

The next morning dawned bright and clear, with the sun shining warmly,
and after breakfast we took a walk around the lawn in the rear of the
castle, where Holmes claimed that intuition told him that Billie Budd
would appear. It got around to a quarter after nine, and while we were
chinning with Blumenroth the gardener and Yensen the coachman, I
noticed a farmer dressed in a suit of blue overalls and a wide-brimmed
straw hat come strolling along the graveled driveway that led back to
the stables. He was a harmless-looking fellow, with bushy gray
whiskers and old-fashioned spectacles, and he came up and addressed us
in a somewhat squeaky voice, which aroused Holmes's suspicions at
once.

"I say, gentlemen, could you tell me who has charge of His Lordship's
hay in the stables? My name is Samuel Simmons, a farmer down the road
a piece, and I would like to buy a ton or two of his hay, if he
doesn't want too much for it."

And the alleged farmer took off his old straw hat and fanned himself
with it after his long walk.

"Well, Sam, the guy who has charge of it is the coachman over there,
that fat little fellow with the red face standing under the peach
tree," replied Holmes in a well modulated tone, but with his eyes
glittering with suppressed excitement. "And I suppose the Earl would
sell you part of it, as I have good reason to know, to my cost, that
he has more of it up there in the loft than he needs, and I think that
you do, too. Weren't you up in the hayloft last Tuesday afternoon,
Sam? Sure you were, and what's more, your name then was William X.
Budd or I'm a Chinaman!"

And Holmes yelled out as he lunged at the so-called Samuel Simmons and
pulled away his false whiskers, thereby disclosing to my astounded
eyes the well-remembered face of Budd the crook.

Budd waited not a second, but put his speedy limbs into action down
the driveway toward the open road a blamed sight faster than he came
in, his spectacles and straw hat falling to the ground, while Holmes
and I took after him as rapidly as we could.

"Hey! head him off! head him off there, somebody, for the love of
Heaven!