nce of the secret, and I have some recollection that he
said that no doubt foreign spies would pay a great deal to have it."

My friend's face grew graver still.

"Anything else?"

"He said that we were slack about such matters--that it would be easy
for a traitor to get the plans."

"Was it only recently that he made such remarks?"

"Yes, quite recently."

"Now tell us of that last evening."

"We were to go to the theatre. The fog was so thick that a cab was
useless. We walked, and our way took us close to the office. Suddenly
he darted away into the fog."

"Without a word?"

"He gave an exclamation; that was all. I waited but he never returned.
Then I walked home. Next morning, after the office opened, they came
to inquire. About twelve o'clock we heard the terrible news. Oh, Mr.
Holmes, if you could only, only save his honour! It was so much to
him."

Holmes shook his head sadly.

"Come, Watson," said he, "our ways lie elsewhere. Our next station
must be the office from which the papers were taken.

"It was black enough before against this young man, but our inquiries
make it blacker," he remarked as the cab lumbered off. "His coming
marriage gives a motive for the crime. He naturally wanted money. The
idea was in his head, since he spoke about it. He nearly made the girl
an accomplice in the treason by telling her his plans. It is all very
bad."

"But surely, Holmes, character goes for something? Then, again, why
should he leave the girl in the street and dart away to commit a
felony?"

"Exactly! There are certainly objections. But it is a formidable case
which they have to meet."

Mr. Sidney Johnson, the senior clerk, met us at the office and received
us with that respect which my companion's card always commanded. He
was a thin, gruff, bespectacled man of middle age, his cheeks haggard,
and his hands twitching from the nervous strain to which he had been
subjected.

"It is bad, Mr. Holmes, very bad! Have you heard of the death of the
chief?"

"We have just come from his house."

"The place is disorganized. The chief dead, Cadogan West dead, our
papers stolen. And yet, when we closed our door on Monday evening, we
were as efficient an office as any in the government service. Good
God, it's dreadful to think of! That West, of all men, should have
done such a thing!"

"You are sure of his guilt, then?"

"I can see no other way out of it. And yet I would have trusted h