the volume from my grasp and was off. In a moment his companion followed him. I had been half throttled and could not immediately cry out; when I could articulate, I made the countryside ring with my cries. I ran after them, but failed even to catch another sight of them. They had disappeared completely."
"Did you all leave the house together!"
"Miles and I left together; the second man joined us at the porter's lodge. He had been attending to some of his duties."
"And Sir Nathaniel—where was he?"
"He said good-night on the threshold."
"What has he had to say about all this!"
"I have not told him."
"You have not told him!" echoed Sherlock Holmes, in astonishment.
"I have not dared," miserably confessed our client. "It will kill him. That book was the breath of his life."
"When did this occur?" I put in, with a glance at Holmes.
"Excellent, Watson," said my friend, answering my glance. "I was about to ask the same question."
"Just last night," was Mr. Harrington Edwards' reply. "I was crazy most of the night; I didn't sleep a wink. I came to you the first
