his attention to
the ham and eggs. Then he rose, lit his pipe, and settled himself down
into his chair.

"I'll tell you what I did first, and how I came to do it afterwards,"
said he. "After leaving you at the station I went for a charming walk
through some admirable Surrey scenery to a pretty little village called
Ripley, where I had my tea at an inn, and took the precaution of filling
my flask and of putting a paper of sandwiches in my pocket. There I
remained until evening, when I set off for Woking again, and found
myself in the high-road outside Briarbrae just after sunset.

"Well, I waited until the road was clear--it is never a very frequented
one at any time, I fancy--and then I clambered over the fence into the
grounds."

"Surely the gate was open!" ejaculated Phelps.

"Yes, but I have a peculiar taste in these matters. I chose the place
where the three fir-trees stand, and behind their screen I got over
without the least chance of any one in the house being able to see me.
I crouched down among the bushes on the other side, and crawled from one
to the other--witness the disreputable state of my trouser knees--until
I had reached the clump of rhododendrons just opposite to your bedroom
window. There I squatted down and awaited developments.

"The blind was not down in your room, and I could see Miss Harrison
sitting there reading by the table. It was quarter-past ten when she
closed her book, fastened the shutters, and retired.

"I heard her shut the door, and felt quite sure that she had turned the
key in the lock."

"The key!" ejaculated Phelps.

"Yes; I had given Miss Harrison instructions to lock the door on the
outside and take the key with her when she went to bed. She carried out
every one of my injunctions to the letter, and certainly without her
cooperation you would not have that paper in you coat-pocket. She
departed then and the lights went out, and I was left squatting in the
rhododendron-bush.

"The night was fine, but still it was a very weary vigil. Of course it
has the sort of excitement about it that the sportsman feels when he
lies beside the water-course and waits for the big game. It was very
long, though--almost as long, Watson, as when you and I waited in that
deadly room when we looked into the little problem of the Speckled Band.
There was a church-clock down at Woking which struck the quarters, and I
thought more than once that it had stopped. At last however about two
in