y sorrow and to
his unfeigned delight, we found ourselves, even in that land of dreams,
plunged into a problem at our very doors which was more intense, more
engrossing, and infinitely more mysterious than any of those which had
driven us from London. Our simple life and peaceful, healthy routine
were violently interrupted, and we were precipitated into the midst of
a series of events which caused the utmost excitement not only in
Cornwall but throughout the whole west of England. Many of my readers
may retain some recollection of what was called at the time "The
Cornish Horror," though a most imperfect account of the matter reached
the London press. Now, after thirteen years, I will give the true
details of this inconceivable affair to the public.

I have said that scattered towers marked the villages which dotted this
part of Cornwall. The nearest of these was the hamlet of Tredannick
Wollas, where the cottages of a couple of hundred inhabitants clustered
round an ancient, moss-grown church. The vicar of the parish, Mr.
Roundhay, was something of an archaeologist, and as such Holmes had
made his acquaintance. He was a middle-aged man, portly and affable,
with a considerable fund of local lore. At his invitation we had taken
tea at the vicarage and had come to know, also, Mr. Mortimer Tregennis,
an independent gentleman, who increased the clergyman's scanty
resources by taking rooms in his large, straggling house. The vicar,
being a bachelor, was glad to come to such an arrangement, though he
had little in common with his lodger, who was a thin, dark, spectacled
man, with a stoop which gave the impression of actual, physical
deformity. I remember that during our short visit we found the vicar
garrulous, but his lodger strangely reticent, a sad-faced,
introspective man, sitting with averted eyes, brooding apparently upon
his own affairs.

These were the two men who entered abruptly into our little
sitting-room on Tuesday, March the 16th, shortly after our breakfast
hour, as we were smoking together, preparatory to our daily excursion
upon the moors.

"Mr. Holmes," said the vicar in an agitated voice, "the most
extraordinary and tragic affair has occurred during the night. It is
the most unheard-of business. We can only regard it as a special
Providence that you should chance to be here at the time, for in all
England you are the one man we need."

I glared at the intrusive vicar with no very friendly eyes; b