humiliation in seeking the assistance of one who already stood
alone in Europe, both in his gifts and in his experience. Holmes
was not prone to friendship, but he was tolerant of the big
Scotchman, and smiled at the sight of him.

"You are an early bird, Mr. Mac," said he. "I wish you luck with
your worm. I fear this means that there is some mischief afoot."

"If you said 'hope' instead of 'fear,' it would be nearer the
truth, I'm thinking, Mr. Holmes," the inspector answered, with a
knowing grin. "Well, maybe a wee nip would keep out the raw
morning chill. No, I won't smoke, I thank you. I'll have to be
pushing on my way; for the early hours of a case are the precious
ones, as no man knows better than your own self. But -- but --"

The inspector had stopped suddenly, and was staring with a
look of absolute amazement at a paper upon the table. It was the
sheet upon which I had scrawled the enigmatic message.

"Douglas!" he stammered. "Birlstone! What's this, Mr. Holmes?
Man, it's witchcraft! Where in the name of all that is wonderful
did you get those names?"

"It is a cipher that Dr. Watson and I have had occasion to
solve. But why -- what's amiss with the names?"

The inspector looked from one to the other of us in dazed astonishment.
"Just this," said he, "that Mr. Douglas of Birlstone Manor House was
horribly murdered last night!"



Chapter 2
Sherlock Holmes Discourses

It was one of those dramatic moments for which my friend existed.
It would be an overstatement to say that he was shocked or even
excited by the amazing announcement. Without having a tinge of
cruelty in his singular composition, he was undoubtedly callous
from long over-stimulation. Yet, if his emotions were dulled,
his intellectual perceptions were exceedingly active. There was
no trace then of the horror which I had myself felt at this curt
declaration; but his face showed rather the quiet and interested
composure of the chemist who sees the crystals falling into position
from his oversaturated solution.

"Remarkable!" said he. "Remarkable!"

"You don't seem surprised."

"Interested, Mr. Mac, but hardly surprised. Why should I be
surprised? I receive an anonymous communication from a quarter
which I know to be important, warning me that danger threatens
a certain person. Within an hour I learn that this danger has
actually materialized and that the person is dead. I am interested;
but, as you observe, I am not surprised."

In a few short sentences he explained to the inspector the facts
about the letter and the cipher. MacDonald sat with his chin on
his hands and his great sandy eyebrows bunched into a yellow
tangle.

"I was going down to Birlstone this morning," said he. "I
had come to ask you if you cared to come with me -- you and
your friend here. But from what you say we might perhaps be
doing better work in London."

"I rather think not," said Holmes.

"Hang it all, Mr. Holmes!" cried the inspector. "The papers
will be full of the Birlstone mystery in a day or two; but where's
the mystery if there is a man in London who prophesied the
crime before ever it occurred? We have only to lay our hands on
that man, and the rest will follow."

"No doubt, Mr. Mac. But how do you propose to lay your
hands on the so-called Porlock?"

MacDonald turned over the letter which Holmes had handed
him. "Posted in Camberwell -- that doesn't help us much. Name,
you say, is assumed. Not much to go on, certainly. Didn't you
say that you have sent him money?"

"Twice."

"And how?"

"In notes to Camberwell post-office."

"Did you ever trouble to see who called for them?"

"No."

The inspector looked surprised and a little shocked. "Why not?"

"Because I always keep faith. I had promised when he first
wrote that I would not try to trace him."

"You think there is someone behind him?"