rixton Road,
many miles from Euston. How he came there, or how he met his fate, are
questions which are still involved in mystery. Nothing is known of the
whereabouts of Stangerson. We are glad to learn that Mr. Lestrade and
Mr. Gregson, of Scotland Yard, are both engaged upon the case, and it
is confidently anticipated that these well-known officers will speedily
throw light upon the matter.

The _Daily News_ observed that there was no doubt as to the crime being
a political one. The despotism and hatred of Liberalism which animated
the Continental Governments had had the effect of driving to our shores
a number of men who might have made excellent citizens were they not
soured by the recollection of all that they had undergone. Among these
men there was a stringent code of honour, any infringement of which was
punished by death. Every effort should be made to find the secretary,
Stangerson, and to ascertain some particulars of the habits of the
deceased. A great step had been gained by the discovery of the address
of the house at which he had boarded--a result which was entirely due to
the acuteness and energy of Mr. Gregson of Scotland Yard.

Sherlock Holmes and I read these notices over together at breakfast, and
they appeared to afford him considerable amusement.

"I told you that, whatever happened, Lestrade and Gregson would be sure
to score."

"That depends on how it turns out."

"Oh, bless you, it doesn't matter in the least. If the man is caught, it
will be _on account_ of their exertions; if he escapes, it will be _in
spite_ of their exertions. It's heads I win and tails you lose. Whatever
they do, they will have followers. 'Un sot trouve toujours un plus sot
qui l'admire.'"

"What on earth is this?" I cried, for at this moment there came the
pattering of many steps in the hall and on the stairs, accompanied by
audible expressions of disgust upon the part of our landlady.

"It's the Baker Street division of the detective police force," said my
companion, gravely; and as he spoke there rushed into the room half a
dozen of the dirtiest and most ragged street Arabs that ever I clapped
eyes on.

"'Tention!" cried Holmes, in a sharp tone, and the six dirty little
scoundrels stood in a line like so many disreputable statuettes. "In
future you shall send up Wiggins alone to report, and the rest of you
must wait in the street. Have you found it, Wiggins?"

"No, sir, we hain't," said one of the youths.

"