violence a small cut which I had inflicted upon myself in the bedroom that

morning. Then I seized my coat, which was weighted by the coppers which I had

just transferred to it from the leather bag in which I carried my takings. I

hurled it out of the window, and it disappeared into the Thames. The other

clothes would have followed, but at that moment there was a rush of constables

up the stair, and a few minutes after I found, rather, I confess, to my relief,

that instead of being identified as Mr. Neville St. Clair, I was arrested as

his murderer.


“I do not know that there is anything else for me to explain. I was

determined to preserve my disguise as long as possible, and hence my preference

for a dirty face. Knowing that my wife would be terribly anxious, I slipped off

my ring and confided it to the Lascar at a moment when no constable was

watching me, together with a hurried scrawl, telling her that she had no cause

to fear.”


“That note only reached her yesterday,” said Holmes.


“Good God! What a week she must have spent!”


“The police have watched this Lascar,” said Inspector Bradstreet,

“and I can quite understand that he might find it difficult to post a

letter unobserved. Probably he handed it to some sailor customer of his, who

forgot all about it for some days.”


“That was it,” said Holmes, nodding approvingly; “I have no

doubt of it. But have you never been prosecuted for begging?”


“Many times; but what was a fine to me?”


“It must stop here, however,” said Bradstreet. “If the police

are to hush this thing up, there must be no more of Hugh Boone.”


“I have sworn it by the most solemn oaths which a man can take.”


“In that case I think that it is probable that no further steps may be

taken. But if you are found again, then all must come out. I am sure, Mr.

Holmes, that we are very much indebted to you for having cleared the matter up.

I wish I knew how you reach your results.”