d his desk, and his dark face
was crimson with fury.

"I'll trouble you to walk out of my house, sir," said he. "You can tell
your employer, Lord Mount-James, that I do not wish to have anything to
do either with him or with his agents. No, sir--not another word!" He
rang the bell furiously. "John, show these gentlemen out!" A pompous
butler ushered us severely to the door, and we found ourselves in the
street. Holmes burst out laughing.

"Dr. Leslie Armstrong is certainly a man of energy and character," said
he. "I have not seen a man who, if he turns his talents that way, was
more calculated to fill the gap left by the illustrious Moriarty.
And now, my poor Watson, here we are, stranded and friendless in this
inhospitable town, which we cannot leave without abandoning our case.
This little inn just opposite Armstrong's house is singularly adapted to
our needs. If you would engage a front room and purchase the necessaries
for the night, I may have time to make a few inquiries."

These few inquiries proved, however, to be a more lengthy proceeding
than Holmes had imagined, for he did not return to the inn until nearly
nine o'clock. He was pale and dejected, stained with dust, and exhausted
with hunger and fatigue. A cold supper was ready upon the table, and
when his needs were satisfied and his pipe alight he was ready to take
that half comic and wholly philosophic view which was natural to him
when his affairs were going awry. The sound of carriage wheels caused
him to rise and glance out of the window. A brougham and pair of grays,
under the glare of a gas-lamp, stood before the doctor's door.

"It's been out three hours," said Holmes; "started at half-past six, and
here it is back again. That gives a radius of ten or twelve miles, and
he does it once, or sometimes twice, a day."

"No unusual thing for a doctor in practice."

"But Armstrong is not really a doctor in practice. He is a lecturer and
a consultant, but he does not care for general practice, which distracts
him from his literary work. Why, then, does he make these long journeys,
which must be exceedingly irksome to him, and who is it that he visits?"

"His coachman----"

"My dear Watson, can you doubt that it was to him that I first applied?
I do not know whether it came from his own innate depravity or from the
promptings of his master, but he was rude enough to set a dog at me.
Neither dog nor man liked the look of my stick, however, and the matte