which were not to be lost sight of. but hardly had

the woman rushed from the room when holmes, with swift,

silent steps, was over at the other door. he turned the

key in the lock. at the same instant we heard voices in

the house and the sound of hurrying feet. the revolver

shots had roused the household. with perfect coolness

holmes slipped across to the safe, filled his two arms with

bundles of letters, and poured them all into the fire.

again and again he did it, until the safe was empty.

someone turned the handle and beat upon the outside of the

door. holmes looked swiftly round. the letter which had

been the messenger of death for milverton lay, all mottled

with his blood, upon the table. holmes tossed it in among

the blazing papers. then he drew the key from the outer

door, passed through after me, and locked it on the

outside. "this way, watson," said he; "we can scale the

garden wall in this direction."

i could not have believed that an alarm could have spread

so swiftly. looking back, the huge house was one blaze of

light. the front door was open, and figures were rushing

down the drive. the whole garden was alive with people,

and one fellow raised a view-halloa as we emerged from the

veranda and followed hard at our heels. holmes seemed to

know the ground perfectly, and he threaded his way swiftly

among a plantation of small trees, i close at his heels,

and our foremost pursuer panting behind us. it was a

six-foot wall which barred our path, but he sprang to the

top and over. as i did the same i felt the hand of the man

behind me grab at my ankle; but i kicked myself free and

scrambled over a glass-strewn coping. i fell upon my face

among some bushes; but holmes had me on my feet in an

instant, and together we dashed away across the huge

expanse of hampstead heath. we had run two miles, i

suppose, before holmes at last halted and listened

intently. all was absolute silence behind us. we had

shaken off our pursuers and were safe.

we had breakfasted and were smoking our morning pipe on the

day after the remarkable experience which i have recorded

when mr. lestrade, of scotland yard, very solemn and

impressive, was ushered into our modest sitting-room.

"good morning, mr. holmes," said he; "good morning.

may i ask if you are very busy just now?"

"not too busy to listen to you."

"i thought that, perhaps, if you had nothing particular on

hand, you might care to assist us in a most remarkable case

which occurred only last night at hampstead."

"dear me!" said holmes. "what was that?"

"a murder -- a most dramatic and remarkable murder. i know

how keen you are upon these things, and i would take it as

a great favour if you would step down to appledore towers

and give us the benefit of your advice. it is no ordinary

crime. we have had our eyes upon this mr. milverton for

some time, and, between ourselves, he was a bit of a

villain. he is known to have held papers which he used for

blackmailing purposes. these papers have all been burned

by the murderers. no article of value was taken, as it is

probable that the criminals were men of good position,

whose sole object was to prevent social exposure."

"criminals!" said holmes. "plural!"

"yes, there were two of them. they were, as nearly as

possible, captured red-handed. we have their foot-marks,

we have their description; it's ten to one that we trace

them. the first fellow was a bit too active, but the

second was caught by the under-gardener and only got away

after a struggle. he was a middle-sized, strongly-built

man -- square jaw, thick neck, moustache, a mask over his

eyes."

"that's rather vague," said sherlock holmes. "why, it

might be a description of watson!"

"it's true," said the inspector, with much amusement.

"it might be a description of watson."

"well, i am afraid i can't help you, lestrade," said

holmes. "the fact is that i knew this fellow milverton,

that i considered him one of the most dangerous men in

london, and that i think there are certain crimes which the

law cannot touch, and which therefore, to some extent,

justify private revenge. no, it's no use arguing. i have

made up my mind. my sympathies are with the criminals

rather than with the victim, and i will not handle this case."

holmes had not said one word to me about the tragedy which

we had witnessed, but i observed all the morning that he

was in his most thoughtful mood, and he gave me the

impression, from his vacant eyes and his abstracted manner,

of a man who is striving to recall something to his memory.

we were in the middle of our lunch when he suddenly sprang

to his feet. "by jove, watson; i've got it!" he cried.

"take your hat! come with me!" he hurried at his top

speed down baker street and along oxford street, until we

had almost reached regent