ter six."

"Whom was it to?"

Holmes put his finger to his lips and glanced at me. "The last words
in it were 'For God's sake,'" he whispered, confidentially; "I am very
anxious at getting no answer."

The young woman separated one of the forms.

"This is it. There is no name," said she, smoothing it out upon the
counter.

"Then that, of course, accounts for my getting no answer," said Holmes.
"Dear me, how very stupid of me, to be sure! Good-morning, miss, and
many thanks for having relieved my mind." He chuckled and rubbed his
hands when we found ourselves in the street once more.

"Well?" I asked.

"We progress, my dear Watson, we progress. I had seven different schemes
for getting a glimpse of that telegram, but I could hardly hope to
succeed the very first time."

"And what have you gained?"

"A starting-point for our investigation." He hailed a cab. "King's Cross
Station," said he.

"We have a journey, then?"

"Yes, I think we must run down to Cambridge together. All the
indications seem to me to point in that direction."

"Tell me," I asked, as we rattled up Gray's Inn Road, "have you any
suspicion yet as to the cause of the disappearance? I don't think that
among all our cases I have known one where the motives are more obscure.
Surely you don't really imagine that he may be kidnapped in order to
give information against his wealthy uncle?"

"I confess, my dear Watson, that that does not appeal to me as a very
probable explanation. It struck me, however, as being the one which was
most likely to interest that exceedingly unpleasant old person."

"It certainly did that; but what are your alternatives?"

"I could mention several. You must admit that it is curious and
suggestive that this incident should occur on the eve of this important
match, and should involve the only man whose presence seems essential to
the success of the side. It may, of course, be a coincidence, but it
is interesting. Amateur sport is free from betting, but a good deal of
outside betting goes on among the public, and it is possible that it
might be worth someone's while to get at a player as the ruffians of
the turf get at a race-horse. There is one explanation. A second
very obvious one is that this young man really is the heir of a great
property, however modest his means may at present be, and it is not
impossible that a plot to hold him for ransom might be concocted."

"These theories take no account of the telegra