"That's part of the old woman's outfit," he said.

  "But what is it all about, Billy?"

  Billy sank his voice, as one who discusses great secrets of

State. "I don't mind telling you, sir, but it should go no farther.

It's this case of the Crown diamond."

  "What -- the hundred-thousand-pound burglary?"

  "Yes, sir. They must get it back, sir. Why, we had the Prime

Minister and the Home Secretary both sitting on that very sofa.

Mr. Holmes was very nice to them. He soon put them at their

ease and promised he would do all he could. Then there is Lord

Cantlemere --"

  "Ah!"

  "Yes, sir, you know what that means. He's a stiff'un, sir, if I

may say so. I can get along with the Prime Minister, and I've

nothing against the Home Secretary, who seemed a civil, oblig-

ing sort of man, but I can't stand his Lordship. Neither can Mr.

Holmes, sir. You see, he don't believe in Mr. Holmes and he

was against employing him. He'd rather he failed."

  "And Mr. Holmes knows it?"

  "Mr. Holmes always knows whatever there is to know."

  "Well, we'll hope he won't fail and that Lord Cantlemere will

be confounded. But I say, Billy, what is that curtain for across

the window?"

  "Mr. Holmes had it put up there three days ago. We've got

something funny behind it."

  Billy advanced and drew away the drapery which screened the

alcove of the bow window.

  Dr. Watson could not restrain a cry of amazement. There was a

facsimile of his old friend, dressing-gown and all, the face

turned three-quarters towards the window and downward, as

though reading an invisible book, while the body was sunk deep

in an armchair. Billy detached the head and held it in the air.

  "We put it at different angles, so that it may seem more

lifelike. I wouldn't dare touch it if the blind were not down. But

when it's up you can see this from across the way."

  "We used something of the sort once before."

  "Before my time," said Billy. He drew the window curtains

apart and looked out into the street. "There are folk who watch

us from over yonder. I can see a fellow now at the window.

Have a look for yourself."

  Watson had taken a step forward when the bedroom door

opened, and the long, thin form of Holmes emerged, his face pale

and drawn, but his step and bearing as active as ever. With a

single spring he was at the window, and had drawn the blind

once more.

  "That will do, Billy," said he. "You were in danger of your

life then, my boy, and I can't do without you just yet. Well,

Watson, it is good to see you in your old quarters once again.

You come at a critical moment."

  "So I gather."

  "You can go, Billy. That boy is a problem, Watson.