like to stay here and see this out."

"Very good," said I. "I find it interesting."

So we proceeded towards the Palm Room and sat down to order our repast.
Scarcely were we seated when one of the hotel boys, resplendent in brass
buttons, strutted through between the tables, calling aloud in a shrill
voice:

"Telegram for four-oh-seven. Four hundred and seven, telegram."

"That's the number, Raffles," I whispered, excitedly.

"I know it," he said, quietly. "Give him another chance--"

"Telegram for number four hundred and seven," called the buttons.

"Here, boy," said Holmes, nerving himself up. "Give me that."

"Four hundred and seven, sir?" asked the boy.

"Certainly," said Holmes, coolly. "Hand it over--any charge?"

"No, sir," said the boy, giving Raffles the yellow covered message.

"Thank you," said Holmes, tearing the flap open carelessly as the boy
departed.

And just then the fictitious baronet entered the room, and, as Holmes read
his telegram, passed by us, still apparently in search of the unattainable,
little dreaming how close at hand was the explanation of his troubles. I was
on the edge of nervous prostration, but Holmes never turned a hair, and,
save for a slight tremor of his hand, no one would have even guessed that
there was anything in the wind. Sir Henry Darlington took a seat in the far
corner of the room.

"That accounts for his uneasiness," said Holmes, tossing the telegram across
the table.

I read: "Slight delay. Will meet you at eight with the goods." The message
was signed: "Cato."

"Let's see," said Holmes. It is now six-forty-five. Here--lend me your
fountain-pen, Jenkins.

I produced the desired article and Holmes, in an admirably feigned hand,
added to the message the words: "at the Abbey, Lafayette Boulevard. Safer,"
restored it in amended form to its envelope.

"Call one of the bell-boys, please," he said to the waiter.

A moment later, a second buttons appeared.

"This isn't for me, boy," said Holmes, handing the message back to him.
"Better take it to the office."

"Very good, sir," said the lad, and off he went.

A few minutes after this incident, Sir Henry again rose impatiently and left
the room, and, at a proper distance to the rear, Holmes followed him.
Darlington stopped at the desk, and, observing the telegram in his box,
called for it and opened it. His face flushed as he tore it into scraps and
made for the elevator, into which he disappeared.

"H