Ivan of the Scar sprang up. "You lunatic," he yelled; "you'll
go to my master now, if I take you by--"

"Why, I was going there," said Brown heavily; "I must ask him
to confess, and all that."

Driving the unhappy Brown before them like a hostage or
sacrifice, they rushed together into the sudden stillness of
Valentin's study.

The great detective sat at his desk apparently too occupied to
hear their turbulent entrance. They paused a moment, and then
something in the look of that upright and elegant back made the
doctor run forward suddenly. A touch and a glance showed him that
there was a small box of pills at Valentin's elbow, and that
Valentin was dead in his chair; and on the blind face of the
suicide was more than the pride of Cato.



The Queer Feet

If you meet a member of that select club, "The Twelve True
Fishermen," entering the Vernon Hotel for the annual club dinner,
you will observe, as he takes off his overcoat, that his evening
coat is green and not black. If (supposing that you have the
star-defying audacity to address such a being) you ask him why, he
will probably answer that he does it to avoid being mistaken for a
waiter. You will then retire crushed. But you will leave behind