felt the hand of the man behind
me grab at my ankle; but I kicked myself free and scrambled over a
glass-strewn coping. I fell upon my face among some bushes; but Holmes
had me on my feet in an instant, and together we dashed away across the
huge expanse of Hampstead Heath. We had run two miles, I suppose, before
Holmes at last halted and listened intently. All was absolute silence
behind us. We had shaken off our pursuers and were safe.

We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the day after
the remarkable experience which I have recorded when Mr. Lestrade, of
Scotland Yard, very solemn and impressive, was ushered into our modest
sitting-room.

"Good morning, Mr. Holmes," said he; "good morning. May I ask if you are
very busy just now?"

"Not too busy to listen to you."

"I thought that, perhaps, if you had nothing particular on hand, you
might care to assist us in a most remarkable case which occurred only
last night at Hampstead."

"Dear me!" said Holmes. "What was that?"

"A murder--a most dramatic and remarkable murder. I know how keen you
are upon these things, and I would take it as a great favour if you
would step down to Appledore Towers and give us the benefit of your
advice. It is no ordinary crime. We have had our eyes upon this Mr.
Milverton for some time, and, between ourselves, he was a bit of a
villain. He is known to have held papers which he used for blackmailing
purposes. These papers have all been burned by the murderers. No article
of value was taken, as it is probable that the criminals were men of
good position, whose sole object was to prevent social exposure."

"Criminals!" said Holmes. "Plural!"

"Yes, there were two of them. They were, as nearly as possible, captured
red-handed. We have their foot-marks, we have their description; it's
ten to one that we trace them. The first fellow was a bit too active,
but the second was caught by the under-gardener and only got away after
a struggle. He was a middle-sized, strongly-built man--square jaw, thick
neck, moustache, a mask over his eyes."

"That's rather vague," said Sherlock Holmes. "Why, it might be a
description of Watson!"

"It's true," said the inspector, with much amusement. "It might be a
description of Watson."

"Well, I am afraid I can't help you, Lestrade," said Holmes. "The fact
is that I knew this fellow Milverton, that I considered him one of the
most dangerous men in London, and that I think there are