he fiend was
not dead but sleeping, and I have known that the sleep was a light one
and the waking near when in periods of idleness I have seen the drawn
look upon Holmes's ascetic face, and the brooding of his deep-set and
inscrutable eyes. Therefore I blessed this Mr. Overton whoever he might
be, since he had come with his enigmatic message to break that dangerous
calm which brought more peril to my friend than all the storms of his
tempestuous life.

As we had expected, the telegram was soon followed by its sender, and
the card of Mr. Cyril Overton, Trinity College, Cambridge, announced
the arrival of an enormous young man, sixteen stone of solid bone and
muscle, who spanned the doorway with his broad shoulders, and looked
from one of us to the other with a comely face which was haggard with
anxiety.

"Mr. Sherlock Holmes?"

My companion bowed.

"I've been down to Scotland Yard, Mr. Holmes. I saw Inspector Stanley
Hopkins. He advised me to come to you. He said the case, so far as he
could see, was more in your line than in that of the regular police."

"Pray sit down and tell me what is the matter."

"It's awful, Mr. Holmes--simply awful I wonder my hair isn't gray.
Godfrey Staunton--you've heard of him, of course? He's simply the hinge
that the whole team turns on. I'd rather spare two from the pack,
and have Godfrey for my three-quarter line. Whether it's passing, or
tackling, or dribbling, there's no one to touch him, and then, he's got
the head, and can hold us all together. What am I to do? That's what I
ask you, Mr. Holmes. There's Moorhouse, first reserve, but he is trained
as a half, and he always edges right in on to the scrum instead of
keeping out on the touchline. He's a fine place-kick, it's true, but
then he has no judgment, and he can't sprint for nuts. Why, Morton or
Johnson, the Oxford fliers, could romp round him. Stevenson is
fast enough, but he couldn't drop from the twenty-five line, and a
three-quarter who can't either punt or drop isn't worth a place for
pace alone. No, Mr. Holmes, we are done unless you can help me to find
Godfrey Staunton."

My friend had listened with amused surprise to this long speech, which
was poured forth with extraordinary vigour and earnestness, every point
being driven home by the slapping of a brawny hand upon the speaker's
knee. When our visitor was silent Holmes stretched out his hand and took
down letter "S" of his commonplace book. For once he dug in va