"Now, Watson," said Holmes, rubbing his hands, "we havehalf an hour to ourselves. Let us make good use of it. My caseis, as I have told you, almost complete; but we must not err onthe side of overconfidence. Simple as the case seems now, theremay be something deeper underlying it."

"Simple!" I ejaculated.

"Surely," said he with something of the air of a clinicalprofessor expounding to his class. "Just sit in the corner there,that your footprints may not complicate matters. Now to work!In the first place, how did these folk come and how did they go?The door has not been opened since last night. How of thewindow?" He carried the lamp across to it, muttering his obser-vations aloud the while but addressing them to himself ratherthan to me. "Window is snibbed on the inner side. Frame-work issolid. No hinges at the side. Let us open it. No water-pipe near.Roof quite out of reach. Yet a man has mounted by the window.It rained a little last night. Here is the print of a foot in mouldupon the sill. And here is a circular muddy mark, and here againupon the floor, and here again by the table. See bere, Watson!This is really a very pretty demonstration."

I looked at the round, well-defined muddy discs.

"That is not a foot-mark," said I.

"It is something much more valuable to us. It is the impres-sion of a wooden stump. You see here on the sill is the boot-mark, a heavy boot with a broad metal heel, and beside it is themark of the timber-toe."

"It is the wooden-legged man."

"Quite so. But there has been someone else -- a very able andefficient ally. Could you scale that wall, Doctor?"

I looked out of the open window. The moon still shonebrightiy on that angle of the house. We were a good sixty feetfrom the ground, and, look where I would, I could see nofoothold, nor as much as a crevice in the brickwork.

"It is absolutely impossible," I answered.

"Without aid it is so. But suppose you had a friend up herewho lowered you this good stout rope which I see in the corner,securing one end of it to this great hook in the wall. Then, Ithink, if you were an active man, you might swarm up, woodenleg and all. You would depart, of course, in the same fashion, andyour ally would draw up the rope, untie it from the hook, shutthe window, snib it on the inside, and get away in the way thathe originally came. As a minor point, it may be noted," hecontinued, fingering the rope, "that our wooden-legged friend,though a fair climber, was not a professional sailor. His handswere far from horny. My lens discloses more than one blood-mark, especially towards the end of the rope, from which Igather that he slipped down with such velocity that he took theskin off his hands."

"This is all very well," said I; "but the thing becomes moreunintelligible than ever. How about this mysterious ally? Howcame he into the room?"

"Yes, the ally!" repeated Holmes pensively. "There are fea-tures of interest about this ally. He lifts the case from the regionsof the commonplace. I fancy that this ally breaks fresh ground inthe annals of crime in this country -- though parallel cases sug-gest themselves from India and, if my memory serves me, fromSenegambia."

"How came he, then?" I reiterated. "The door is locked; thewindow is inaccessible. Was it through the chimney?"

"The grate is much too small," he answered. "I had alreadyconsidered that possibility."

"How, then?" I persisted.

"You will not apply my precept," he said, shaking his head."How often have I said to you that when you have eliminatedthe impossible, whatever remains, however improbable, must bethe truth? We know that he did not come through the door, thewindow, or the chimney. We also know that he could not havebeen concealed in the room, as there is no concealment possible.When, then, did he come?"

"He came through the hole in the roof!" I cried.

"Of course he did. He must have done so. If you will have thekindness to hold the lamp for me, we shall now extend ourresearches to the room above -- the secret room in which thetreasure was found."

He mounted the steps, and, seizing a rafter with either hand,he swung himself up into the garret. Then, lying on his face, hereached down for the lamp and held it while I followed him.

The chamber in which we found ourselves was about ten feetone way and six the other. The floor was formed by the rafters,with thin lath and plaster between, so that in walking one had tostep from beam to beam. The roof ran up to an apex and wasevidently the inner shell of the true roof of the house. There wasno furniture of any sort, and the accumulated dust of years laythick upon the floor.

"Here you are, you see," said Sherlock Holmes, putting hishand against the sloping wall. "This is a trapdoor which leadsout on to the roof. I can press it back, and here is the roof itself,sloping at a gentle angle. This, then, is the way by whichNumber One entered. Let us see if we can find some other tracesof his individuality?"

He held down the lamp to the floor, and as he did so I saw forthe second time that night a startled, surprised look come overhis face. For myself, as I followed his gaze, my skin was coldunder my clothes. The floor was covered thickly with the printsof a naked foot -- clear, well-defined, perfectly formed, but scarcehalf the size of those of an ordinary man.

"Holmes," I said in a whisper, "a child has done this horridthing."

He had recovered his self-possession in an instant.

"I was staggered for the moment," he said, "but the thing isquite natural. My memory failed me, or I should have been ableto foretell it. There is nothing more to be learned here. Let us godown."

"What is your theory, then, as to those footmarks?" I askedeagerly when we had regained the lower room once more.

"My dear Watson, try a little analysis yourself," said he witha touch of impatience. "You know my methods. Apply them,and it will be instructive to compare results."

"I cannot conceive anything which will cover the facts," Ianswered.

"It will be clear enough to you soon," he said, in an offhandway. "I think that there is nothing else of importance here, but Iwill look."

He whipped out his lens and a tape measure and hurried aboutthe room on his knees, measuring, comparing, examining, withhis long thin nose only a few inches from the planks and hisbeady eyes gleaming and deep-set like those of a bird. So swift,silent, and furtive were his movements, like those of a trainedbloodhound picking out a scent, that I could not but think what aterrible criminal he would have made had he turned his energyand sagacity against the law instead of exerting them in itsdefence. As he hunted about, he kept muttering to himself, andfinally he broke out into a loud crow of delight.

"We are certainly in luck," said he. "We ought to have verylittle trouble now. Number One has had the misfortune to treadin the creosote. You can see the outline of the edge of his smallfoot here at the side of this evil-smelling mess. The carboy hasbeen cracked, you see, and the stuff has leaked out."

"What then?" I asked.

"Why, we have got him, that's all," said he.

"I know a dog that would follow that scent to the world's end.If a pack can track a trailed herring across a shire, how far can aspecially trained hound follow so pungent a smell as this? Itsounds like a sum in the rule of three. The answer should give usthe -- But hallo! here are the accredited representatives of thelaw."

Heavy steps and the clamour of loud voices were audible frombelow, and the hall door shut with a loud crash.

"Before they come," said Holmes, "just put your hand hereon this poor fellow's arm, and here on his leg. What do youfeel?"

The muscles are as hard as a board," I answered.

"Quite so. They are in a state of extreme contraction, farexceeding the usual rigor mortis. Coupled with this distortion ofthe face, this Hippocratic smile, or 'risus sardonicus,' as the oldwriters called it, what conclusion would it suggest to yourmind?"

"Death from some powerful vegetable alkaloid," I answered,"some strychnine-like substance which would produce tetanus."

"That was the idea which occurred to me the instant I saw thedrawn muscles of the face. On getting into the room I at oncelooked for the means by which the poison had entered thesystem. As you saw, I discovered a thorn which had been drivenor shot with no great force into the scalp. You observe that thepart struck was that which would be turned towards the hole inthe ceiling if the man were erect in his chair. Now examine thisthorn."

I took it up gingerly and held it in the light of the lantern. Itwas long, sharp, and black, with a glazed look near the point asthough some gummy substance had dried upon it. The blunt endhad been trimmed and rounded off with a knife.

"Is that an English thorn?" he asked.

"No, it certainly is not."

"With all these data you should be able to draw some justinference. But here are the regulars, so the auxiliary forces maybeat a retreat."

As he spoke, the steps which had been coming nearer soundedloudly on the passage, and a very stout, portly man in a gray suitstrode heavily into the room. He was red-faced, burly, andplethoric, with a pair of very small twinkling eyes which lookedkeenly out from between swollen and puffy pouches. He wasclosely followed by an inspector in uniform and by the stillpalpitating Thaddeus Sholto.

"Here's a business!" he cried in a muffled, husky voice."Here's a pretty business! But who are all these? Why, thehouse seems to be as full as a rabbit-warren!"

"I think you must recollect me, Mr. Athelney Jones," saidHolmes quietly.

"Why, of course I do!" he wheezed. "It's Mr. SherlockHolmes, the theorist. Remember you! I'll never forget how youlectured us all on causes and inferences and effects in theBishopgate jewel case. It's true you set us on the right track; butyou'll own now that it was more by good luck than goodguidance."

"It was a piece of very simple reasoning."

"Oh, come, now, come! Never be ashamed to own up. Butwhat is all this? Bad business! Bad business! Stern facts here -- noroom for theories. How lucky that I happened to be out atNorwood over another case! I was at the station when themessage arrived. What d'you think the man died of?"

"Oh, this is hardly a case for me to theorize over," saidHolmes dryly.

"No, no. Still, we can't deny that you hit the nail on the headsometimes. Dear me! Door locked, I understand. Jewels worthhalf a million missing. How was the window?"

"Fastened; but there are steps on the sill."

"Well, well, if it was fastened the steps could have nothing todo with the matter. That's common sense. Man might have diedin a fit; but then the jewels are missing. Ha! I have a theory.These flashes come upon me at times. -- Just step outside, Ser-geant, and you, Mr. Sholto. Your friend can remain. -- What doyou think of this, Holmes? Sholto was, on his own confession,with his brother last night. The brother died in a fit, on whichSholto walked off with the treasure? How's that?"

"On which the dead man very considerately got up and lockedthe door on the inside."

"Hum! There's a flaw there. Let us apply common sense tothe matter. This Thaddeus Sholto was with his brother; there wasa quarrel: so much we know. The brother is dead and the jewelsare gone. So much also we know. No one saw the brother fromthe time Thaddeus left him. His bed had not been slept in.Thaddeus is evidently in a most disturbed state of mind. Hisappearance is -- well, not attractive. You see that I am weavingmy web round Thaddeus. The net begins to close upon him."

"You are not quite in possession of the facts yet," saidHolmes. "This splinter of wood, which I have every reason tobelieve to be poisoned, was in the man's scalp where you stillsee the mark; this card, inscribed as you see it, was on the table,and beside it lay this rather curious stone-headed instrument.How does all that fit into your theory?"

"Confirms it in every respect," said the fat detective pom-pously. "House is full of Indian curiosities. Thaddeus broughtthis up, and if this splinter be poisonous Thaddeus may as wellhave made murderous use of it as any other man. The card issome hocus-pocus -- a blind, as like as not. The only question is,how did he depart? Ah, of course, here is a hole in the roof."

With great activity, considering his bulk, he sprang up thesteps and squeezed through into the garret, and immediatelyafterwards we heard his exulting voice proclaiming that he hadfound the trapdoor.

"He can find something," remarked Holmes, shrugging hisshoulders; "he has occasional glimmerings of reason. ll n'y apas des sots si incommodes que ceux qui ont de l'esprit!"

"You see!" said Athelney Jones, reappearing down the stepsagain; "facts are better than theories, after all. My view of thecase is confirmed. There is a trapdoor communicating with theroof, and it is partly open."

"It was I who opened it."

"Oh, indeed! You did notice it, then?" He seemed a littlecrestfallen at the discovery. "Well, whoever noticed it, it showshow our gentleman got away. Inspector!"

"Yes, sir," from the passage.

"Ask Mr. Sholto to step this way. -- Mr. Sholto, it is my dutyto inform you that anything which you may say will be usedagainst you. I arrest you in the Queen's name as being concernedin the death of your brother."

"There, now! Didn't I tell you!" cried the poor little manthrowing out his hands and looking from one to the other of us.

"Don't trouble yourself about it, Mr. Sholto," said Holmes;"I think that I can engage to clear you of the charge."

"Don't promise too much, Mr. Theorist, don't promise toomuch!" snapped the detective. "You may find it a harder matterthan you think."

"Not only will I clear him, Mr. Jones, but I will make you afree present of the name and description of one of the two peoplewho were in this room last night. His name, I have every reasonto believe, is Jonathan Small. He is a poorly educated man,small, active, with his right leg off, and wearing a woodenstump which is worn away upon the inner side. His left boot hasa coarse, square-toed sole, with an iron band round the heel. Heis a middle-aged man, much sunburned, and has been a convict.These few indications may be of some assistance to you, coupledwith the fact that there is a good deal of skin missing from thepalm of his hand. The other man --"

"Ah! the other man?" asked Athelney Jones in a sneeringvoice, but impressed none the less, as I could easily see, by theprecision of the other's manner.

"Is a rather curious person," said Sherlock Holmes, turningupon his heel. "I hope before very long to be able to introduceyou to the pair of them. A word with you, Watson."

He led me out to the head of the stair.

"This unexpected occurrence," he said, "has caused us ratherto lose sight of the original purpose of our journey."

"I have just been thinking so," I answered; "it is not rightthat Miss Morstan should remain in this stricken house."

"No. You must escort her home. She lives with Mrs. CecilForrester in Lower Camberwell, so it is not very far. I will waitfor you here if you will drive out again. Or perhaps you are tootired?"

"By no means. I don't think I could rest until I know more ofthis fantastic business. I have seen something of the rough sideof life, but I give you my word that this quick succession ofstrange surprises to-night has shaken my nerve completely. Ishould like, however, to see the matter through with you, nowthat I have got so far."

"Your presence will be of great service to me," he answered."We shall work the case out independently and leave this fellowJones to exult over any mare's-nest which he may choose toconstruct. When you have dropped Miss Morstan, I wish you togo on to No. 3 Pinchin Lane, down near the water's edge atLambeth. The third house on the right-hand side is a bird-stuffer's; Sherman is the name. You will see a weasel holding ayoung rabbit in the window. Knock old Sherman up and tellhim, with my compliments, that I want Toby at once. You willbring Toby back in the cab with you."

"A dog, I suppose."

"Yes, a queer mongrel with a most amazing power of scent. Iwould rather have Toby's help than that of the whole detectiveforce of London."

"I shall bring him then," said I. "It is one now. I ought to beback before three if I can get a fresh horse."

"And I," said Holmes, "shall see what I can learn from Mrs.Bernstone and from the Indian servant, who, Mr. Thaddeus tellsme, sleeps in the next garret. Then I shall study the great Jones'smethods and listen to his not too delicate sarcasms.

" 'Wir sind gewohnt dass die Menschen verhohnen was sie

nicht verstehen.'

"Goethe is always pithy."