ege, cambridge, announced the arrival of

an enormous young man, sixteen stone of solid bone and

muscle, who spanned the doorway with his broad

shoulders and looked from one of us to the other with

a comely face which was haggard with anxiety.

"mr. sherlock holmes?"

my companion bowed.

"i've been down to scotland yard, mr. holmes. i saw

inspector stanley hopkins. he advised me to come to

you. he said the case, so far as he could see, was

more in your line than in that of the regular police."

"pray sit down and tell me what is the matter."

"it's awful, mr. holmes, simply awful! i wonder my

hair isn't grey. godfrey staunton -- you've heard of

him, of course? he's simply the hinge that the whole

team turns on. i'd rather spare two from the pack and

have godfrey for my three-quarter line. whether it's

passing, or tackling, or dribbling, there's no one to

touch him; and then, he's got the head and can hold us

all together. what am i to do? that's what i ask

you, mr. holmes. there's moorhouse, first reserve,

but he is trained as a half, and he always edges right

in on to the scrum instead of keeping out on the

touch-line. he's a fine place-kick, it's true, but,

then, he has no judgment, and he can't sprint for

nuts. why, morton or johnson, the oxford fliers,

could romp round him. stevenson is fast enough, but

he couldn't drop from the twenty-five line, and a

three-quarter who can't either punt or drop isn't

worth a place for pace alone. no, mr. holmes, we are

done unless you can help me to find godfrey staunton."

my friend had listened with amused surprise to this

long speech, which was poured forth with extraordinary

vigour and earnestness, every point being driven home

by the slapping of a brawny hand upon the speaker's

knee. when our visitor was silent holmes stretched

out his hand and took down letter "s" of his

commonplace book. for once he dug in vain into that

mine of varied information.

"there is arthur h. staunton, the rising young

forger," said he, "and there was henry staunton, whom

i helped to hang, but godfrey staunton is a new name

to me."

it was our visitor's turn to look surprised.

"why, mr. holmes, i thought you knew things," said he.

"i suppose, then, if you have never heard of godfrey

staunton you don't know cyril overton either?"

holmes shook his head good-humouredly.

"great scot!" cried the athlete. "why, i was first

reserve for england against wales, and i've skippered

the 'varsity {1} all this year. but that's nothing!

i didn't think there was a soul in england who didn't

know godfrey staunton, the crack three-quarter, cambridge,

blackheath, and five internationals. good lord! mr. holmes,

where _have_ you lived?"

holmes laughed at the young giant's naive astonishment.

"you live in a different world to me, mr. overton, a

sweeter and healthier one. my ramifications stretch

out into many sections of society, but never, i am

happy to say, into amateur sport, which is the best

and soundest thing in england. however, your

unexpected visit this morning shows me that even in

that world of fresh air and fair play there may be

work for me to do; so now, my good sir, i beg you to

sit down and to tell me slowly and quietly exactly

what it is that has occurred, and how you desire that

i should help you."

young overton's face assumed the bothered look of the

man who is more accustomed to using his muscles than

his wits; but by degrees, with many repetitions and

obscurities which i may omit from his narrative, he

laid his strange story before us.

"it's this way, mr. holmes. as i have said, i am the

skipper of the rugger team of cambridge 'varsity, and

godfrey staunton is my best man. to-morrow we play

oxford. yesterday we all came up and we settled at

bentley's private hotel. at ten o'clock i went round

and saw that all the fellows had gone to roost, for i

believe in strict training and plenty of sleep to keep

a team fit. i had a word or two with godfrey before

he turned in. he seemed to me to be pale and

bothered. i asked him what was the matter. he said

he was all right -- just a touch of headache. i bade

him good-night and left him. half an hour later the

porter tells me that a rough-looking man with a beard

called with a note for godfrey. he had not gone to

bed and the note was taken to his room. godfrey read

it and fell back in a chair as if he had been

pole-axed. the porter was so scared that he was going

to fetch me, but godfrey stopped him, had a drink of

water, and pulled himself together. then he went

downstairs, said a few words to the man who was

waiting in the hall, and the two of them went off

together. the last that the porter saw of them, they

were almost running down the street in the direction

of the strand. this morning godfrey's room was empty,