them all into
the fire. Again and again he did it, until the safe was empty. Someone
turned the handle and beat upon the outside of the door. Holmes looked
swiftly round. The letter which had been the messenger of death for
Milverton lay, all mottled with his blood, upon the table. Holmes tossed
it in among the blazing papers. Then he drew the key from the outer
door, passed through after me, and locked it on the outside. "This way,
Watson," said he, "we can scale the garden wall in this direction."

I could not have believed that an alarm could have spread so swiftly.
Looking back, the huge house was one blaze of light. The front door
was open, and figures were rushing down the drive. The whole garden was
alive with people, and one fellow raised a view-halloa as we emerged
from the veranda and followed hard at our heels. Holmes seemed to
know the grounds perfectly, and he threaded his way swiftly among
a plantation of small trees, I close at his heels, and our foremost
pursuer panting behind us. It was a six-foot wall which barred our path,
but he sprang to the top and over. As I did the same I felt the hand
of the man behind me grab at my ankle, but I kicked myself free and
scrambled over a grass-strewn coping. I fell upon my face among some
bushes, but Holmes had me on my feet in an instant, and together we
dashed away across the huge expanse of Hampstead Heath. We had run two
miles, I suppose, before Holmes at last halted and listened intently.
All was absolute silence behind us. We had shaken off our pursuers and
were safe.

We had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the day after
the remarkable experience which I have recorded, when Mr. Lestrade, of
Scotland Yard, very solemn and impressive, was ushered into our modest
sitting-room.

"Good-morning, Mr. Holmes," said he; "good-morning. May I ask if you are
very busy just now?"

"Not too busy to listen to you."

"I thought that, perhaps, if you had nothing particular on hand, you
might care to assist us in a most remarkable case, which occurred only
last night at Hampstead."

"Dear me!" said Holmes. "What was that?"

"A murder--a most dramatic and remarkable murder. I know how keen you
are upon these things, and I would take it as a great favour if you
would step down to Appledore Towers, and give us the benefit of your
advice. It is no ordinary crime. We have had our eyes upon this Mr.
Milverton for some time, and, between ourselves, he was a