giving a diagram of Howard Vandergould's new
house at Nippon's Point, Long Island, which I meant to cut out for future
reference."

Holmes secured the _Gazoo_, and between us, we made a pretty thorough search
of its contents, especially "The Doings of Society" columns, and at last we
found it, as follows:

"A small dinner of thirty was given on Thursday evening last in honor of Mr.
and Mrs. Wilbur Rattington, of Boston, by Mrs. Rattington's brother, John D.
Bruce, of Bruce, Watkins & Co., at the latter's residence, 74-- Fifth
Avenue. Among Mr. Bruce's guests were Mr. and Mrs. W. K. Dandervelt, Mr. and
Mrs. Elisha Scroog, Jr., Major-General Carrington Cox, Mr. and Mrs.
Henderson Scovill, and Signor Caruso."

"Old Bruce, eh?" laughed Holmes. "Sans peur et sans reproche. Well, that is
interesting. One of the few honest railroad bankers in the country, a pillar
of the church, a leading reformer and--a stolen pepper-pot on his table!
Gee!"

"What are you going to do now?" I asked. "Write to Bruce and tell him the
facts?"

Holmes's answer was a glance.

"Oh cream-cakes!" he ejaculated, with profane emphasis.

A week after the incidents just described he walked into my room with a
small package under his arm.

"There's the pair!" he observed, unwrapping the parcel and displaying its
contents--two superb, golden pepper-pots, both inscribed "A.R. to C.C."
"Beauties, aren't they?"

"They are, indeed. Did Bruce give it up willingly?" I asked.

"He never said a word," laughed Holmes. "Fact is, he snored all the time I
was there."

"Snored?" said I.

"Yes--you see, it was at 3.30 this morning," said Holmes, "and I went in the
back way. Climbed up to the extension roof, in through Bruce's bedroom
window, down-stairs to the dining-room, while Bruce slept unconscious of my
arrival. The house next to his is vacant, you know, and it was easy
travelling."

"You--you--" I began.

"Yes--that's it," said he. "Just a plain vulgar bit of second-story
business, and I got it. There were a lot of other good things lying around,"
he added, with a gulp, "but--well, I was righting a wrong this time, so I
let 'em alone, and, barring this, I didn't deprive old Bruce of a blooming
thing, not even a wink of sleep."

"And now what?" I demanded.

"It's me for Cedarhurst--that's where the General lives," said he. "I'll get
there about 11.30 to-night, and as soon as all is quiet, Jenkins, your old
pal, Raffles Holmes, will climb easil