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"They must be cunning devils," he exclaimed at last. "How could

they have decoyed him down there? The Embankment is not on the

direct line to the station. The bridge, no doubt, was too

crowded, even on such a night, for their purpose. Well, Watson,

we shall see who will win in the long run. I am going out now!"

"To the police?"

"No; I shall be my own police. When I have spun the web they may

take the flies, but not before."

All day I was engaged in my professional work, and it was late in

the evening before I returned to Baker Street. Sherlock Holmes

had not come back yet. It was nearly ten o'clock before he

entered, looking pale and worn. He walked up to the sideboard,

and tearing a piece from the loaf he devoured it voraciously,

washing it down with a long draught of water.

"You are hungry," I remarked.

"Starving. It had escaped my memory. I have had nothing since

breakfast."

"Nothing?"

"Not a bite. I had no time to think of it."

"And how have you succeeded?"

"Well."

"You have a clue?"