very blunt knife, you have an
additional aid."

Mr. Soames was somewhat overwhelmed by this flood of information. "I can
follow the other points," said he, "but really, in this matter of the
length----"

Holmes held out a small chip with the letters NN and a space of clear
wood after them.

"You see?"

"No, I fear that even now----"

"Watson, I have always done you an injustice. There are others. What
could this NN be? It is at the end of a word. You are aware that Johann
Faber is the most common maker's name. Is it not clear that there is
just as much of the pencil left as usually follows the Johann?" He held
the small table sideways to the electric light. "I was hoping that
if the paper on which he wrote was thin, some trace of it might come
through upon this polished surface. No, I see nothing. I don't think
there is anything more to be learned here. Now for the central table.
This small pellet is, I presume, the black, doughy mass you spoke of.
Roughly pyramidal in shape and hollowed out, I perceive. As you say,
there appear to be grains of sawdust in it. Dear me, this is very
interesting. And the cut--a positive tear, I see. It began with a
thin scratch and ended in a jagged hole. I am much indebted to you for
directing my attention to this case, Mr. Soames. Where does that door
lead to?"

"To my bedroom."

"Have you been in it since your adventure?"

"No, I came straight away for you."

"I should like to have a glance round. What a charming, old-fashioned
room! Perhaps you will kindly wait a minute, until I have examined the
floor. No, I see nothing. What about this curtain? You hang your clothes
behind it. If anyone were forced to conceal himself in this room he must
do it there, since the bed is too low and the wardrobe too shallow. No
one there, I suppose?"

As Holmes drew the curtain I was aware, from some little rigidity and
alertness of his attitude, that he was prepared for an emergency. As a
matter of fact, the drawn curtain disclosed nothing but three or four
suits of clothes hanging from a line of pegs. Holmes turned away, and
stooped suddenly to the floor.

"Halloa! What's this?" said he.

It was a small pyramid of black, putty-like stuff, exactly like the one
upon the table of the study. Holmes held it out on his open palm in the
glare of the electric light.

"Your visitor seems to have left traces in your bedroom as well as in
your sitting-room, Mr. Soames."

"What could he have