uare blocks highly polished.

over the fireplace was a magnificent trophy of weapons, one of

which had been used on that tragic night. in the window was a

sumptuous writing-desk, and every detail of the apartment, the

pictures, the rugs, and the hangings, all pointed to a taste which

was luxurious to the verge of effeminacy.

"seen the paris news?" asked lestrade.

holmes nodded.

"our french friends seem to have touched the spot this time. no

doubt it's just as they say. she knocked at the door -- surprise

visit, i guess, for he kept his life in water-tight compartments.

he let her in -- couldn't keep her in the street. she told him

how she had traced him, reproached him, one thing led to another,

and then with that dagger so handy the end soon came. it wasn't

all done in an instant, though, for these chairs were all swept

over yonder, and he had one in his hand as if he had tried to hold

her off with it. we've got it all clear as if we had seen it."

holmes raised his eyebrows.

"and yet you have sent for me?"

"ah, yes, that's another matter -- a mere trifle, but the sort of

thing you take an interest in -- queer, you know, and what you

might call freakish. it has nothing to do with the main fact --

can't have, on the face of it."

"what is it, then?"

"well, you know, after a crime of this sort we are very careful to

keep things in their position. nothing has been moved. officer

in charge here day and night. this morning, as the man was buried

and the investigation over -- so far as this room is concerned --

we thought we could tidy up a bit. this carpet. you see, it is

not fastened down; only just laid there. we had occasion to raise

it. we found ----"

"yes? you found ----"

holmes's face grew tense with anxiety.

"well, i'm sure you would never guess in a hundred years what we

did find. you see that stain on the carpet? well, a great deal

must have soaked through, must it not?"

"undoubtedly it must."

"well, you will be surprised to hear that there is no stain on the

white woodwork to correspond."

"no stain! but there must ----"

"yes; so you would say. but the fact remains that there isn't."

he took the corner of the carpet in his hand and, turning it over,

he showed that it was indeed as he said.

"but the underside is as stained as the upper. it must have left

a mark."

lestrade chuckled with delight at having puzzled the famous

expert.

"now i'll show you the explanation. there _is_ a second stain,

but it does not correspond with the other. see for yourself." as

he spoke he turned over another portion of the carpet, and there,

sure enough, was a great crimson spill upon the square white

facing of the old-fashioned floor. "what do you make of that, mr.

holmes?"

"why, it is simple enough. the two stains did correspond, but the

carpet has been turned round. as it was square and unfastened it

was easily done."

the official police don't need you, mr. holmes, to tell them that

the carpet must have been turned round. that's clear enough, for

the stains lie above each other -- if you lay it over this way.

but what i want to know is, who shifted the carpet, and why?"

i could see from holmes's rigid face that he was vibrating with

inward excitement.

"look here, lestrade," said he, "has that constable in the passage

been in charge of the place all the time?"

"yes, he has."

"well, take my advice. examine him carefully. don't do it before

us. we'll wait here. you take him into the back room. you'll be

more likely to get a confession out of him alone. ask him how he

dared to admit people and leave them alone in this room. don't

ask him if he has done it. take it for granted. tell him you

_know_ someone has been here. press him. tell him that a full

confession is his only chance of forgiveness. do exactly what i

tell you!"

"by george, if he knows i'll have it out of him!" cried lestrade.

he darted into the hall, and a few moments later his bullying

voice sounded from the back room.

"now, watson, now!" cried holmes, with frenzied eagerness. all

the demoniacal force of the man masked behind that listless manner

burst out in a paroxysm of energy. he tore the drugget from the

floor, and in an instant was down on his hands and knees clawing

at each of the squares of wood beneath it. one turned sideways as

he dug his nails into the edge of it. it hinged back like the lid

of a box. a small black cavity opened beneath it. holmes plunged

his eager hand into it, and drew it out with a bitter snarl of

anger and disappointment. it was empty.

"quick, watson, quick! get it back again!" the wooden lid was

replaced, and the drugget had only just been drawn straight when

lestrade's voice was heard in the passage. he found holmes

leaning languidly against the mantelpiece, resigned and patient,