ht he went down to Woodman's Lee, saw Peter Carey at
the hut, quarrelled with him, and killed him with the harpoon. Then,
horrified by what he had done, he fled out of the hut, dropping the
notebook which he had brought with him in order to question Peter Carey
about these different securities. You may have observed that some of
them were marked with ticks, and the others--the great majority--were
not. Those which are ticked have been traced on the London market, but
the others, presumably, were still in the possession of Carey, and young
Neligan, according to his own account, was anxious to recover them in
order to do the right thing by his father's creditors. After his flight
he did not dare to approach the hut again for some time, but at last
he forced himself to do so in order to obtain the information which he
needed. Surely that is all simple and obvious?"

Holmes smiled and shook his head. "It seems to me to have only one
drawback, Hopkins, and that is that it is intrinsically impossible. Have
you tried to drive a harpoon through a body? No? Tut, tut my dear sir,
you must really pay attention to these details. My friend Watson could
tell you that I spent a whole morning in that exercise. It is no easy
matter, and requires a strong and practised arm. But this blow was
delivered with such violence that the head of the weapon sank deep
into the wall. Do you imagine that this anaemic youth was capable of so
frightful an assault? Is he the man who hobnobbed in rum and water with
Black Peter in the dead of the night? Was it his profile that was seen
on the blind two nights before? No, no, Hopkins, it is another and more
formidable person for whom we must seek."

The detective's face had grown longer and longer during Holmes's speech.
His hopes and his ambitions were all crumbling about him. But he would
not abandon his position without a struggle.

"You can't deny that Neligan was present that night, Mr. Holmes. The
book will prove that. I fancy that I have evidence enough to satisfy a
jury, even if you are able to pick a hole in it. Besides, Mr. Holmes,
I have laid my hand upon MY man. As to this terrible person of yours,
where is he?"

"I rather fancy that he is on the stair," said Holmes, serenely. "I
think, Watson, that you would do well to put that revolver where you can
reach it." He rose and laid a written paper upon a side-table. "Now we
are ready," said he.

There had been some talking in gruff voices out