otland
Yard investigation. He was immensely tickled by his own adventures and
laughed heartily as he recounted them.

"I get so little active exercise that it is always a treat," said he.
"You are aware that I have some proficiency in the good old British
sport of boxing. Occasionally, it is of service, to-day, for example, I
should have come to very ignominious grief without it."

I begged him to tell me what had occurred.

"I found that country pub which I had already recommended to your
notice, and there I made my discreet inquiries. I was in the bar, and
a garrulous landlord was giving me all that I wanted. Williamson is a
white-bearded man, and he lives alone with a small staff of servants at
the Hall. There is some rumor that he is or has been a clergyman, but
one or two incidents of his short residence at the Hall struck me as
peculiarly unecclesiastical. I have already made some inquiries at a
clerical agency, and they tell me that there WAS a man of that name
in orders, whose career has been a singularly dark one. The landlord
further informed me that there are usually week-end visitors--'a
warm lot, sir'--at the Hall, and especially one gentleman with a red
moustache, Mr. Woodley by name, who was always there. We had got as far
as this, when who should walk in but the gentleman himself, who had been
drinking his beer in the tap-room and had heard the whole conversation.
Who was I? What did I want? What did I mean by asking questions? He had
a fine flow of language, and his adjectives were very vigorous. He ended
a string of abuse by a vicious backhander, which I failed to entirely
avoid. The next few minutes were delicious. It was a straight left
against a slogging ruffian. I emerged as you see me. Mr. Woodley went
home in a cart. So ended my country trip, and it must be confessed that,
however enjoyable, my day on the Surrey border has not been much more
profitable than your own."

The Thursday brought us another letter from our client.

You will not be surprised, Mr. Holmes [said she] to hear that I am
leaving Mr. Carruthers's employment. Even the high pay cannot reconcile
me to the discomforts of my situation. On Saturday I come up to town,
and I do not intend to return. Mr. Carruthers has got a trap, and so
the dangers of the lonely road, if there ever were any dangers, are now
over.

As to the special cause of my leaving, it is not merely the strained
situation with Mr. Carruthers, but it is the re