houghts was utterly inexplicable.

"how on earth do you know that?" i asked.

he wheeled round upon his stool, with a steaming test-tube

in his hand and a gleam of amusement in his deep-set eyes.

"now, watson, confess yourself utterly taken aback," said

he.

"i am."

"i ought to make you sign a paper to that effect."

"why?"

"because in five minutes you will say that it is all so

absurdly simple."

"i am sure that i shall say nothing of the kind."

"you see, my dear watson" -- he propped his test-tube in

the rack and began to lecture with the air of a professor

addressing his class -- "it is not really difficult to

construct a series of inferences, each dependent upon its

predecessor and each simple in itself. if, after doing so,

one simply knocks out all the central inferences and

presents one's audience with the starting-point and the

conclusion, one may produce a startling, though possibly a

meretricious, effect. now, it was not really difficult, by

an inspection of the groove between your left forefinger

and thumb, to feel sure that you did _not_ propose to

invest your small capital in the goldfields."

"i see no connection."

"very likely not; but i can quickly show you a close

connection. here are the missing links of the very simple

chain: 1. you had chalk between your left finger and thumb

when you returned from the club last night. 2. you put

chalk there when you play billiards to steady the cue. 3.

you never play billiards except with thurston. 4. you told

me four weeks ago that thurston had an option on some south

african property which would expire in a month, and which

he desired you to share with him. 5. your cheque-book is

locked in my drawer, and you have not asked for the key.

6. you do not propose to invest your money in this manner."

"how absurdly simple!" i cried.

"quite so!" said he, a little nettled. "every problem

becomes very childish when once it is explained to you.

here is an unexplained one. see what you can make of that,

friend watson." he tossed a sheet of paper upon the table

and turned once more to his chemical analysis.

i looked with amazement at the absurd hieroglyphics upon

the paper.

"why, holmes, it is a child's drawing," i cried.

"oh, that's your idea!"

"what else should it be?"

"that is what mr. hilton cubitt, of riding thorpe manor,

norfolk, is very anxious to know. this little conundrum

came by the first post, and he was to follow by the next

train. there's a ring at the bell, watson. i should not

be very much surprised if this were he."

a heavy step was heard upon the stairs, and an instant

later there entered a tall, ruddy, clean-shaven gentleman,

whose clear eyes and florid cheeks told of a life led far

from the fogs of baker street. he seemed to bring a whiff

of his strong, fresh, bracing, east-coast air with him as

he entered. having shaken hands with each of us, he was

about to sit down when his eye rested upon the paper with

the curious markings, which i had just examined and left

upon the table.

"well, mr. holmes, what do you make of these?" he cried.

"they told me that you were fond of queer mysteries, and i

don't think you can find a queerer one than that. i sent

the paper on ahead so that you might have time to study it

before i came."

"it is certainly rather a curious production," said holmes.

"at first sight it would appear to be some childish prank.

it consists of a number of absurd little figures dancing

across the paper upon which they are drawn. why should you

attribute any importance to so grotesque an object?"

"i never should, mr. holmes. but my wife does. it is

frightening her to death. she says nothing, but i can see

terror in her eyes. that's why i want to sift the matter

to the bottom."

holmes held up the paper so that the sunlight shone full

upon it. it was a page torn from a note-book. the

markings were done in pencil, and ran in this way:--

{graphic}

holmes examined it for some time, and then, folding it

carefully up, he placed it in his pocket-book.

"this promises to be a most interesting and unusual case,"

said he. "you gave me a few particulars in your letter,

mr. hilton cubitt, but i should be very much obliged if you

would kindly go over it all again for the benefit of my

friend, dr. watson."

"i'm not much of a story-teller," said our visitor,

nervously clasping and unclasping his great, strong hands.

"you'll just ask me anything that i don't make clear. i'll

begin at the time of my marriage last year; but i want to

say first of all that, though i'm not a rich man, my people

have been at ridling thorpe for a matter of five centuries,

and there is no better known family in the county of

norfolk. last year i came up to london for the jubilee,

and i stopped at a boarding-house in rus