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It was nearly four o'clock when we at last, after passing through

the beautiful Stroud Valley, and over the broad gleaming Severn,

found ourselves at the pretty little country-town of Ross. A

lean, ferret-like man, furtive and sly-looking, was waiting for

us upon the platform. In spite of the light brown dustcoat and

leather-leggings which he wore in deference to his rustic

surroundings, I had no difficulty in recognising Lestrade, of

Scotland Yard. With him we drove to the Hereford Arms where a

room had already been engaged for us.

"I have ordered a carriage," said Lestrade as we sat over a cup

of tea. "I knew your energetic nature, and that you would not be

happy until you had been on the scene of the crime."

"It was very nice and complimentary of you," Holmes answered. "It

is entirely a question of barometric pressure."

Lestrade looked startled. "I do not quite follow," he said.