i could see. well,

it certainly was not mr. james wilder, for there he is at

the door."

a red square of light had sprung out of the darkness.

in the middle of it was the black figure of the secretary,

his head advanced, peering out into the night. it was evident

that he was expecting someone. then at last there were

steps in the road, a second figure was visible for an

instant against the light, the door shut, and all was black

once more. five minutes later a lamp was lit in a room

upon the first floor.

"it seems to be a curious class of custom that is done by

the fighting cock," said holmes.

"the bar is on the other side."

"quite so. these are what one may call the private guests.

now, what in the world is mr. james wilder doing in that

den at this hour of night, and who is the companion who

comes to meet him there? come, watson, we must really take

a risk and try to investigate this a little more closely."

together we stole down to the road and crept across to the

door of the inn. the bicycle still leaned against the

wall. holmes struck a match and held it to the back wheel,

and i heard him chuckle as the light fell upon a patched

dunlop tyre. up above us was the lighted window.

"i must have a peep through that, watson. if you bend your back

and support yourself upon the wall, i think that i can manage."

an instant later his feet were on my shoulders. but he was

hardly up before he was down again.

"come, my friend," said he, "our day's work has been quite

long enough. i think that we have gathered all that we

can. it's a long walk to the school, and the sooner we get

started the better."

he hardly opened his lips during that weary trudge across

the moor, nor would he enter the school when he reached it,

but went on to mackleton station, whence he could send some

telegrams. late at night i heard him consoling dr. huxtable,

prostrated by the tragedy of his master's death,

and later still he entered my room as alert and vigorous as

he had been when he started in the morning. "all goes

well, my friend," said he. "i promise that before to-morrow

evening we shall have reached the solution of the mystery."

at eleven o'clock next morning my friend and i were walking

up the famous yew avenue of holdernesse hall. we were

ushered through the magnificent elizabethan doorway and

into his grace's study. there we found mr. james wilder,

demure and courtly, but with some trace of that wild terror

of the night before still lurking in his furtive eyes and

in his twitching features.

"you have come to see his grace? i am sorry; but the fact

is that the duke is far from well. he has been very much

upset by the tragic news. we received a telegram from

dr. huxtable yesterday afternoon, which told us of your

discovery."

"i must see the duke, mr. wilder."

"but he is in his room."

"then i must go to his room."

"i believe he is in his bed."

"i will see him there."

holmes's cold and inexorable manner showed the secretary

that it was useless to argue with him.

"very good, mr. holmes; i will tell him that you are here."

after half an hour's delay the great nobleman appeared.

his face was more cadaverous than ever, his shoulders had

rounded, and he seemed to me to be an altogether older man

than he had been the morning before. he greeted us with a

stately courtesy and seated himself at his desk, his red

beard streaming down on to the table.

"well, mr. holmes?" said he.

but my friend's eyes were fixed upon the secretary,

who stood by his master's chair.

"i think, your grace, that i could speak more freely in

mr. wilder's absence."

the man turned a shade paler and cast a malignant glance

at holmes.

"if your grace wishes ----"

"yes, yes; you had better go. now, mr. holmes, what have

you to say?"

my friend waited until the door had closed behind the

retreating secretary.

"the fact is, your grace," said he, "that my colleague,

dr. watson, and myself had an assurance from dr. huxtable that

a reward had been offered in this case. i should like to

have this confirmed from your own lips."

"certainly, mr. holmes."

"it amounted, if i am correctly informed, to five thousand

pounds to anyone who will tell you where your son is?"

"exactly."

"and another thousand to the man who will name the person

or persons who keep him in custody?"

"exactly."

"under the latter heading is included, no doubt, not only

those who may have taken him away, but also those who

conspire to keep him in his present position?"

"yes, yes," cried the duke, impatiently. "if you do your

work well, mr. sherlock holmes, you will have no reason to

complain of niggardly treatment."

my friend rubbed his thin hands together with an appearance

of avidity which was a surprise to me, who knew his frugal

tastes.

"i fancy that i s