lips with many gasps and
pauses. At times she spoke so low that I could hardly catch the words. I
made shorthand notes of all that she said, however, so that there should
be no possibility of a mistake."

"It's quite exciting," said Sherlock Holmes, with a yawn. "What happened
next?"

"When Mrs. Charpentier paused," the detective continued, "I saw that the
whole case hung upon one point. Fixing her with my eye in a way which
I always found effective with women, I asked her at what hour her son
returned.

"'I do not know,' she answered.

"'Not know?'

"'No; he has a latch-key, and he let himself in.'

"'After you went to bed?'

"'Yes.'

"'When did you go to bed?'

"'About eleven.'

"'So your son was gone at least two hours?'

"'Yes.'

"'Possibly four or five?'

"'Yes.'

"'What was he doing during that time?'

"'I do not know,' she answered, turning white to her very lips.

"Of course after that there was nothing more to be done. I found
out where Lieutenant Charpentier was, took two officers with me, and
arrested him. When I touched him on the shoulder and warned him to come
quietly with us, he answered us as bold as brass, 'I suppose you
are arresting me for being concerned in the death of that scoundrel
Drebber,' he said. We had said nothing to him about it, so that his
alluding to it had a most suspicious aspect."

"Very," said Holmes.

"He still carried the heavy stick which the mother described him as
having with him when he followed Drebber. It was a stout oak cudgel."

"What is your theory, then?"

"Well, my theory is that he followed Drebber as far as the Brixton Road.
When there, a fresh altercation arose between them, in the course of
which Drebber received a blow from the stick, in the pit of the stomach,
perhaps, which killed him without leaving any mark. The night was so
wet that no one was about, so Charpentier dragged the body of his victim
into the empty house. As to the candle, and the blood, and the writing
on the wall, and the ring, they may all be so many tricks to throw the
police on to the wrong scent."

"Well done!" said Holmes in an encouraging voice. "Really, Gregson, you
are getting along. We shall make something of you yet."

"I flatter myself that I have managed it rather neatly," the detective
answered proudly. "The young man volunteered a statement, in which he
said that after following Drebber some time, the latter perceived him,
and took a cab in order to g