cut in it about three inches
long--not a mere scratch, but a positive cut. Not only this, but on
the table I found a small ball of black dough or clay, with specks of
something which looks like sawdust in it. I am convinced that these
marks were left by the man who rifled the papers. There were no
footmarks and no other evidence as to his identity. I was at my wit's
end, when suddenly the happy thought occurred to me that you were in the
town, and I came straight round to put the matter into your hands. Do
help me, Mr. Holmes. You see my dilemma. Either I must find the man or
else the examination must be postponed until fresh papers are prepared,
and since this cannot be done without explanation, there will ensue a
hideous scandal, which will throw a cloud not only on the college,
but on the university. Above all things, I desire to settle the matter
quietly and discreetly."

"I shall be happy to look into it and to give you such advice as I
can," said Holmes, rising and putting on his overcoat. "The case is not
entirely devoid of interest. Had anyone visited you in your room after
the papers came to you?"

"Yes, young Daulat Ras, an Indian student, who lives on the same stair,
came in to ask me some particulars about the examination."

"For which he was entered?"

"Yes."

"And the papers were on your table?"

"To the best of my belief, they were rolled up."

"But might be recognized as proofs?"

"Possibly."

"No one else in your room?"

"No."

"Did anyone know that these proofs would be there?"

"No one save the printer."

"Did this man Bannister know?"

"No, certainly not. No one knew."

"Where is Bannister now?"

"He was very ill, poor fellow. I left him collapsed in the chair. I was
in such a hurry to come to you."

"You left your door open?"

"I locked up the papers first."

"Then it amounts to this, Mr. Soames: that, unless the Indian student
recognized the roll as being proofs, the man who tampered with them came
upon them accidentally without knowing that they were there."

"So it seems to me."

Holmes gave an enigmatic smile.

"Well," said he, "let us go round. Not one of your cases,
Watson--mental, not physical. All right; come if you want to. Now, Mr.
Soames--at your disposal!"

The sitting-room of our client opened by a long, low, latticed window on
to the ancient lichen-tinted court of the old college. A Gothic arched
door led to a worn stone staircase. On the ground floor