He

was well dressed, but his brilliant necktie, shining pin, and

glittering rings were flamboyant in their effect. As the door

closed behind him he looked round him with fierce, startled

eyes, like one who suspects a trap at every turn. Then he gave a

violent start as he saw the impassive head and the collar of the

dressing-gown which projected above the armchair in the win-

dow. At first his expression was one of pure amazement. Then

the light of a horrible hope gleamed in his dark, murderous eyes.

He took one more glance round to see that there were no

witnesses, and then, on tiptoe, his thick stick half raised, he

approached the silent figure. He was crouching for his final

spring and blow when a cool, sardonic voice greeted him from

the open bedroom door:

  "Don't break it, Count! Don't break it!"

  The assassin staggered back, amazement in his convulsed

face. For an instant he half raised his loaded cane once more, as

if he would turn his violence from the effigy to the original; but

there was something in that steady gray eye and mocking smile

which caused his hand to sink to his side.

  "It's a pretty little thing," said Holmes, advancing towards

the image. "Tavernier, the French modeller, made it. He is as

good at waxworks as your friend Straubenzee is at air-guns."

  "Air-guns, sir! What do you mean?"

  "Put your hat and stick on the side-table. Thank you! Pray

take a seat. Would you care to put your revolver out also? Oh,

very good, if you prefer to sit upon it. Your visit is really most

opportune, for I wanted badly to have a few minutes' chat with

you. "

  The Count scowled, with heavy, threatening eyebrows.

  "I, too, wished to have some words with you, Holmes. That

is why I am here. I won't deny that I intended to assault you just

now."

  Holmes swung his leg on the edge of the table.

  "I rather gathered that you had some idea of the sort in your

head," said he. "But why these personal attentions?"

  "Because you have gone out of your way to annoy me.

Because you have put your creatures upon my track."

  "My creatures! I assure you no!"

  "Nonsense! I have had them followed. Two can play at that

game, Holmes."

  "It is a small point, Count Sylvius, but perhaps you would

kindly give me my prefix when you address me. You can

understand that, with my routine of work, I should find myself

on familiar terms with half the rogues' gallery, and you will

agree that exceptions are invidious."

  "Well, Mr. Holmes, then."

  "Excellent! But I assure you you are mistaken about my

alleged agents."

  Count Sylvius laughed contemptuously.

  "Other people can observe as well as you. Yesterday there

was an old sporting man. To-day it was an elderly woman. They

held me in view all day."

  "Really, sir, you compliment me. Old Baron Dowson said the

night before he was hanged that in my case what the law had

gained the stage had lost. And now you give my little impersona-

tions your kindly praise?"

  "It was you -- you yourself?"

  Holmes shrugged his shoulders. "You can see in the corner

the parasol which you so politely handed to me in the Minories

before you began to suspect."

  "If I had known, you might never --"

  "Have seen this humble home again. I was well aware of it.

We all have neglected opportunities to deplore. As it happens,

you did not know, so here we are!"

  The Count's knotted brows gathered more heavily over his

menacing eyes. "What you say only makes the matter worse. It

was not your agents but your play-acting, busybody self! You

admit that you have dogged me. Why?"

  "Come now, Count.