hydraulic engineer. Left his lodgings at ten o’clock at night, and has

not been heard of since. Was dressed in,’ etc., etc. Ha! That represents

the last time that the colonel needed to have his machine overhauled, I

fancy.”


“Good heavens!” cried my patient. “Then that explains what

the girl said.”


“Undoubtedly. It is quite clear that the colonel was a cool and desperate

man, who was absolutely determined that nothing should stand in the way of his

little game, like those out-and-out pirates who will leave no survivor from a

captured ship. Well, every moment now is precious, so if you feel equal to it

we shall go down to Scotland Yard at once as a preliminary to starting for

Eyford.”


Some three hours or so afterwards we were all in the train together, bound from

Reading to the little Berkshire village. There were Sherlock Holmes, the

hydraulic engineer, Inspector Bradstreet, of Scotland Yard, a plain-clothes

man, and myself. Bradstreet had spread an ordnance map of the county out upon

the seat and was busy with his compasses drawing a circle with Eyford for its

centre.


“There you are,” said he. “That circle is drawn at a radius

of ten miles from the village. The place we want must be somewhere near that

line. You said ten miles, I think, sir.”


“It was an hour’s good drive.”


“And you think that they brought you back all that way when you were

unconscious?”


“They must have done so. I have a confused memory, too, of having been

lifted and conveyed somewhere.”


“What I cannot understand,” said I, “is why they should have

spared you when they found you lying fainting in the garden. Perhaps the

villain was softened by the woman’s entreaties.”


“I hardly think that likely. I never saw a more inexorable face in my

life.”


“Oh, we shall soon clear up all that,” said Bradstreet.

“Well, I have drawn my circle, and I only wish I knew at what point upon

it the folk that we are in search of are to be found.”