ing seven years and the latter ten. Of the fate of Carruthers
I have no record, but I am sure that his assault was not viewed very
gravely by the Court, since Woodley had the reputation of being a most
dangerous ruffian, and I think that a few months were sufficient to
satisfy the demands of justice.

*****

THE STRAND MAGAZINE
Vol. 27 FEBRUARY, 1904
THE RETURN OF SHERLOCK HOLMES.
By ARTHUR CONAN DOYLE.

V.--The Adventure of the Priory School.

WE have had some dramatic entrances and exits upon our small stage at
Baker Street, but I cannot recollect anything more sudden and startling
than the first appearance of Thorneycroft Huxtable, M.A., Ph.D., etc.
His card, which seemed too small to carry the weight of his academic
distinctions, preceded him by a few seconds, and then he entered
himself--so large, so pompous, and so dignified that he was the very
embodiment of self-possession and solidity. And yet his first action
when the door had closed behind him was to stagger against the table,
whence he slipped down upon the floor, and there was that majestic
figure prostrate and insensible upon our bearskin hearthrug.

We had sprung to our feet, and for a few moments we stared in silent
amazement at this ponderous piece of wreckage, which told of some sudden
and fatal storm far out on the ocean of life. Then Holmes hurried with
a cushion for his head and I with brandy for his lips. The heavy white
face was seamed with lines of trouble, the hanging pouches under the
closed eyes were leaden in colour, the loose mouth drooped dolorously at
the corners, the rolling chins were unshaven. Collar and shirt bore
the grime of a long journey, and the hair bristled unkempt from the
well-shaped head. It was a sorely-stricken man who lay before us.

"What is it, Watson?" asked Holmes.

"Absolute exhaustion--possibly mere hunger and fatigue," said I, with my
finger on the thready pulse, where the stream of life trickled thin and
small.

"Return ticket from Mackleton, in the North of England," said Holmes,
drawing it from the watch-pocket. "It is not twelve o'clock yet. He has
certainly been an early starter."

The puckered eyelids had begun to quiver, and now a pair of vacant, grey
eyes looked up at us. An instant later the man had scrambled on to his
feet, his face crimson with shame.

"Forgive this weakness, Mr. Holmes; I have been a lit