s was the lighted window.

"I must have a peep through that, Watson. If you bend your back and
support yourself upon the wall, I think that I can manage."

An instant later, his feet were on my shoulders, but he was hardly up
before he was down again.

"Come, my friend," said he, "our day's work has been quite long enough.
I think that we have gathered all that we can. It's a long walk to the
school, and the sooner we get started the better."

He hardly opened his lips during that weary trudge across the moor, nor
would he enter the school when he reached it, but went on to Mackleton
Station, whence he could send some telegrams. Late at night I heard him
consoling Dr. Huxtable, prostrated by the tragedy of his master's death,
and later still he entered my room as alert and vigorous as he had been
when he started in the morning. "All goes well, my friend," said he. "I
promise that before to-morrow evening we shall have reached the solution
of the mystery."

At eleven o'clock next morning my friend and I were walking up the
famous yew avenue of Holdernesse Hall. We were ushered through the
magnificent Elizabethan doorway and into his Grace's study. There we
found Mr. James Wilder, demure and courtly, but with some trace of that
wild terror of the night before still lurking in his furtive eyes and in
his twitching features.

"You have come to see his Grace? I am sorry, but the fact is that the
Duke is far from well. He has been very much upset by the tragic news.
We received a telegram from Dr. Huxtable yesterday afternoon, which told
us of your discovery."

"I must see the Duke, Mr. Wilder."

"But he is in his room."

"Then I must go to his room."

"I believe he is in his bed."

"I will see him there."

Holmes's cold and inexorable manner showed the secretary that it was
useless to argue with him.

"Very good, Mr. Holmes, I will tell him that you are here."

After an hour's delay, the great nobleman appeared. His face was more
cadaverous than ever, his shoulders had rounded, and he seemed to me
to be an altogether older man than he had been the morning before. He
greeted us with a stately courtesy and seated himself at his desk, his
red beard streaming down on the table.

"Well, Mr. Holmes?" said he.

But my friend's eyes were fixed upon the secretary, who stood by his
master's chair.

"I think, your Grace, that I could speak more freely in Mr. Wilder's
absence."

The man turned a shade paler and