It was obvious to me that my companion's mind was now made up

about the case, although what his conclusions were was more than

I could even dimly imagine. Several times during our homeward

journey I endeavored to sound him upon the point, but he always

glided away to some other topic, until at last I gave it over in

despair. It was not yet three when we found ourselves in our

rooms once more. He hurried to his chamber and was down again in

a few minutes dressed as a common loafer. With his collar turned

up, his shiny, seedy coat, his red cravat, and his worn boots, he

was a perfect sample of the class.

"I think that this should do," said he, glancing into the glass

above the fireplace. "I only wish that you could come with me,

Watson, but I fear that it won't do. I may be on the trail in

this matter, or I may be following a will-o'-the-wisp, but I

shall soon know which it is. I hope that I may be back in a few

hours." He cut a slice of beef from the joint upon the sideboard,

sandwiched it between two rounds of bread, and thrusting this

rude meal into his pocket he started off upon his expedition.

I had just finished my tea when he returned, evidently in

excellent spirits, swinging an old elastic-sided boot in his

hand. He chucked it down into a corner and helped himself to a

cup of tea.

"I only looked in as I passed," said he. "I am going right on."

"Where to?"

"Oh, to the other side of the West End. It may be some time

before I get back. Don't wait up for me in case I should be

late."

"How are you getting on?"

"Oh, so so. Nothing to complain of. I have been out to Streatham

since I saw you last, but I did not call at the house. It is a

very sweet little problem, and I would not have missed it for a

good deal. However, I must not sit gossiping here, but must get

these disreputable clothes off and return to my highly

respectable self."

I could see by his manner that he had stronger reasons for

satisfaction than his words alone would imply. His eyes twinkled,

and there was even a touch of color upon his sallow cheeks. He

hastened upstairs, and a few minutes later I heard the slam of

the hall door, which told me that he was off once more upon his

congenial hunt.

I waited until midnight, but there was no sign of his return, so

I retired to my room. It was no uncommon thing for him to be away

for days and nights on end when he was hot upon a scent, so that

his lateness caused me no surprise. I do not know at what hour he

came in, but when I came down to breakfast in the morning there

he was with a cup of coffee in one hand and the paper in the

other, as fresh and trim as possible.

"You will excuse my beginning without you, Watson," said he, "but

you remember that our client has rather an early appointment this

morning."

"Why, it is after nine now," I answered. "I should not be

surprised if that were he. I thought I heard a ring."

It was, indeed, our friend the financier. I was shocked by the

change which had come over him, for his face which was naturally

of a broad and massive mould, was now pinched and fallen in,

while his hair seemed to me at least a shade whiter. He entered

with a weariness and lethargy which was even more painful than

his violence of the morning before, and he dropped heavily into

the armchair which I pushed forward for him.

"I do not know what I have done to be so severely tried," said

he. "Only two days ago I was a happy and prosperous man, without

a care in the world. Now I am left to a lonely and dishonored

age. One sorrow comes close upon the heels of another. My niece,

Mary, has deserted me."

"Deserted you?"

"Yes. Her bed this morning had not been slept in, her room was

empty, and a note for me lay upon the hall table. I had said to

her last night, in sorrow and not in anger, that if she had

married my boy all might have been well with him. Perhaps it was

thoughtless of me to say so. It is to that remark that she refers

in this note:

"'MY DEAREST UNCLE:--I feel that I have brought trouble upon you,

and that if I had acted differently this terrible misfortune

might never have occurred. I cannot, with this thought in my

mind, ever again be happy under your roof, and I feel that I must

leave you forever. Do not worry about my future, for that is

provided for; and, above all, do not search for me, for it will

be fruitless labour and an ill-service to me. In life or in 

death, I am ever your loving MARY.'

"What could she mean by that note, Mr. Holmes? Do you think it

points to suicide?"

"No, no, nothing of the kind. It is perhaps the best possible

solution. I trust, Mr. Holder, that you are nearing the end of

your troubles."

"Ha! You say so! You have heard something, Mr. Holmes; you have

learned something! Where are the gems?"

"You would not think 1000 pounds apiece an excessive sum for

them?"

"I would pay ten."

"That would be unnecessary. Three thousand will cover the matter.

And there is a little reward, I fancy. Have you your check-book?

Here is a pen. Better make it out for 4000 pounds."

With a dazed face the banker made out the required check. Holmes

walked over to his desk, took out a little triangular piece of

gold with three gems in it, and threw it down upon the table.

With a shriek of joy our client clutched it up.

"You have it!" he gasped. "I am saved! I am saved!"

The reaction of joy was as passionate as his grief had been, and

he hugged his recovered gems to his bosom.

"There is one other thing you owe, Mr. Holder," said Sherlock

Holmes rather sternly.

"Owe!" He caught up a pen. "Name the sum, and I will pay it."

"No, the debt is not to me. You owe a very humble apology to that

noble lad, your son, who has carried himself in this matter as I

should be proud to see my own son do, should I ever chance to

have one."

"Then it was not Arthur who took them?"

"I told you yesterday, and I repeat to-day, that it was not."

"You are sure of it! Then let us hurry to him at once to let him

know that the truth is known."

"He knows it already. When I had cleared it all up I had an

interview with him, and finding that he would not tell me the

story, I told it to him, on which he had to confess that I was

right and to add the very few details which were not yet quite

clear to me. Your news of this morning, however, may open his

lips."

"For heaven's sake, tell me, then, what is this extraordinary

mystery !"

"I will do so, and I will show you the steps by which I reached

it. And let me say to you, first, that which it is hardest for me

to say and for you to hear: there has been an understanding

between Sir George Burnwell and your niece Mary. They have now

fled together."

"My Mary? Impossible!"

"It is unfortunately more than possible; it is certain. Neither

you nor your son knew the true character of this man when you

admitted him into your family circle. He is one of the most

dangerous men in England--a ruined gambler, an absolutely

desperate villain, a man without heart or conscience. Your niece

knew nothing of such men. When he breathed his vows to her, as he

had done to a hundred before her, she flattered herself that she

alone had touched his heart. The devil knows best what he said,

but at least she became his tool and was in the habit of seeing

him nearly every evening."

"I cannot, and I will not, believe it!" cried the banker with an

ashen face.

"I will tell you, then, what occurred in your house last night.

Your niece, when you had, as she thought, gone to your room.

slipped down and talked to her lover through the window which

leads into the stable lane. His footmarks had pressed right

through the snow, so long had he stood there. She told him of the

coronet. His wicked lust for gold kindled at the news, and he

bent her to his will. I have no doubt that she loved you, but

there are women in whom the love of a lover extinguishes all

other loves, and I think that she must have been one. She had

hardly listened to his instructions when she saw you coming

downstairs, on which she closed the window rapidly and told you

about one of the servants' escapade with her wooden-legged lover,

which was all perfectly true.

"Your boy, Arthur, went to bed after his interview with you but

he slept badly on account of his uneasiness about his club debts.

In the middle of the night he heard a soft tread pass his door,

so he rose and, looking out, was surprised to see his cousin

walking very stealthily along the passage until she disappeared

into your dressing-room. Petrified with astonishment. the lad

slipped on some clothes and waited there in the dark to see what

would come of this strange affair. Presently she emerged from the

room again, and in the light of the passage-lamp your son saw

that she carried the precious coronet in her hands. She passed

down the stairs, and he, thrilling with horror, ran along and

slipped behind the curtain near your door, whence he could see

what passed in the hall beneath. He saw her stealthily open the

window, hand out the coronet to someone in the gloom, and then

closing it once more hurry back to her room, passing quite close

to where he stood hid behind the curtain.

"As long as she was on the scene he could not take any action

without a horrible exposure of the woman whom he loved. But the

instant that she was gone he realized how crushing a misfortune

this would be for you, and how all-important it was to set it

right. He rushed down, just as he was, in his bare feet, opened

the window, sprang out into the snow, and ran down the lane,

where he could see a dark figure in the moonlight. Sir George

Burnwell tried to get away, but Arthur caught him, and there was

a struggle between them, your lad tugging at one side of the

coronet, and his opponent at the other. In the scuffle, your son

struck Sir George and cut him over the eye. Then something

suddenly snapped, and your son, finding that he had the coronet

in his hands, rushed back, closed the window, ascended to your

room, and had just observed that the coronet had been twisted in

the struggle and was endeavoring to straighten it when you

appeared upon the scene."

"Is it possible?" gasped the banker.

"You then roused his anger by calling him names at a moment when

he felt that he had deserved your warmest thanks. He could not

explain the true state of affairs without betraying one who

certainly deserved little enough consideration at his hands. He

took the more chivalrous view, however, and preserved her

secret."

"And that was why she shrieked and fainted when she saw the

coronet," cried Mr. Holder. "Oh, my God! what a blind fool I have

been! And his asking to be allowed to go out for five minutes!

The dear fellow wanted to see if the missing piece were at the

scene of the struggle. How cruelly I have misjudged him!'

"When I arrived at the house," continued Holmes, "I at once went

very carefully round it to observe if there were any traces in

the snow which might help me. I knew that none had fallen since

the evening before, and also that there had been a strong frost

to preserve impressions. I passed along the tradesmen's path, but

found it all trampled down and indistinguishable. Just beyond it,

however, at the far side of the kitchen door, a woman had stood

and talked with a man, whose round impressions on one side showed

that he had a wooden leg. I could even tell that they had been

disturbed, for the woman had run back swiftly to the door, as was

shown by the deep toe and light heel marks, while Wooden-leg had

waited a little, and then had gone away. I thought at the time

that this might be the maid and her sweetheart, of whom you had

already spoken to me, and inquiry showed it was so. I passed

round the garden without seeing anything more than random tracks,

which I took to be the police; but when I got into the stable

lane a very long and complex story was written in the snow in

front of me.