He'd just
broke in at the pantry window when William came on him and met his end
in saving his master's property."

"What time?"

"It was last night, sir, somewhere about twelve."

"Ah, then, we'll step over presently," said the Colonel, coolly settling
down to his breakfast again. "It's a baddish business," he added, when
the butler had gone. "He's our leading squire about here, is old
Cunningham, and a very decent fellow too. He'll be cut up over this, for
the man has been in his service for years, and was a good servant. It's
evidently the same villains who broke into Acton's."

"And stole that very singular collection?" said Holmes, thoughtfully.

"Precisely."

"Hum! It may prove the simplest matter in the world; but, all the same,
at first glance this is just a little curious, is it not? A gang of
burglars acting in the country might be expected to vary the scene of
their operations, and not to crack two cribs in the same district within
a few days. When you spoke last night of taking precautions, I remember
that it passed through my mind that this was probably the last parish
in England to which the thief or thieves would be likely to turn their
attention; which shows that I have still much to learn."

"I fancy it's some local practitioner," said the Colonel. "In that case,
of course, Acton's and Cunningham's are just the places he would go for,
since they are far the largest about here."

"And richest?"

"Well, they ought to be; but they've had a law-suit for some years which
has sucked the blood out of both of them, I fancy. Old Acton has some
claim on half Cunningham's estate, and the lawyers have been at it with
both hands."

"If it's a local villain, there should not be much difficulty in running
him down," said Holmes, with a yawn. "All right, Watson, I don't intend
to meddle."

"Inspector Forrester, sir," said the butler, throwing open the door.

The official, a smart, keen-faced young fellow, stepped into the room.
"Good morning, Colonel," said he. "I hope I don't intrude, but we hear
that Mr. Holmes, of Baker Street, is here."

The Colonel waved his hand towards my friend, and the Inspector bowed.

"We thought that perhaps you would care to step across, Mr. Holmes."

"The Fates are against you, Watson," said he, laughing. "We were
chatting about the matter when you came in, Inspector. Perhaps you can
let us have a few details." As he leaned back in his chair in the
familiar attitude, I