brightened eyes and brisker manner which assured me that the game
was afoot. After his habit he said nothing, and after mine I
asked no questions. Sufficient for me to share the sport and
lend my humble help to the capture without distracting that
intent brain with needless interruption. All would come round to
me in due time.

I waited, therefore--but to my ever-deepening disappointment I
waited in vain. Day succeeded day, and my friend took no step
forward. One morning he spent in town, and I learned from a
casual reference that he had visited the British Museum. Save
for this one excursion, he spent his days in long and often
solitary walks, or in chatting with a number of village gossips
whose acquaintance he had cultivated.

"I'm sure, Watson, a week in the country will be invaluable to
you," he remarked. "It is very pleasant to see the first green
shoots upon the hedges and the catkins on the hazels once again.
With a spud, a tin box, and an elementary book on botany, there
are instructive days to be spent." He prowled about with this
equipment himself, but it was a poor show of plants which he
would bring back of an evening.

Occasionally in our rambles we came across Inspector Baynes. His
fat, red face wreathed itself in smiles and his small eyes
glittered as he greeted my companion. He said little about the
case, but from that little we gathered that he also was not
dissatisfied at the course of events. I must admit, however,
that I was somewhat surprised when, some five days after the
crime, I opened my morning paper to find in large letters: