f his slips of paper and consulted it, but
before he could speak Rupert Grant, who was leaning in the window in a
perfect posture of the quiet and triumphant detective, struck in with
the sharp and suave voice he loved so much to use.

"Why, I can tell you that, Basil," he said graciously as he idly plucked
leaves from a plant in the window. "I took the precaution to get this
man's address from the constable last night."

"And what was it?" asked his brother gruffly.

"The constable will correct me if I am wrong," said Rupert, looking
sweetly at the ceiling. "It was: The Elms, Buxton Common, near Purley,
Surrey."

"Right, sir," said the policeman, laughing and folding up his papers.

There was a silence, and the blue eyes of Basil looked blindly for a few
seconds into the void. Then his head fell back in his chair so suddenly
that I started up, thinking him ill. But before I could move further his
lips had flown apart (I can use no other phrase) and a peal of gigantic
laughter struck and shook the ceiling--laughter that shook the laughter,
laughter redoubled, laughter incurable, laughter that could not stop.

Two whole minutes afterwards it was still unended; Basil was ill with
laughter; but still he laughed. The rest of us were by this time ill
almost with terror.

"Excuse me," said the insane creature, getting at last to his feet.
"I am awfully sorry. It is horribly rude. And stupid, too. And also
unpractical, because we have not much time to lose if we're to get down
to that place. The train service is confoundedly bad, as I happen to
know. It's quite out of proportion to the comparatively small distance."

"Get down to that place?" I repeated blankly. "Get down to what place?"

"I have forgotten its name," said Basil vaguely, putting his hands in
his pockets as he rose. "Something Common near Purley. Has any one got a
timetable?"

"You don't seriously mean," cried Rupert, who had been staring in a sort
of confusion of emotions. "You don't mean that you want to go to Buxton
Common, do you? You can't mean that!"

"Why shouldn't I go to Buxton Common?" asked Basil, smiling.

"Why should you?" said his brother, catching hold again restlessly of
the plant in the window and staring at the speaker.

"To find our friend, the lieutenant, of course," said Basil Grant. "I
thought you wanted to find him?"

Rupert broke a branch brutally from the plant and flung it impatiently
on the floor. "And in order to find