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They were ALL confederates in the same unknown crime.

If it came off when Garcia returned, any possible suspicion would be warded off by the Englishman's evidence, and all would be well.

But the attempt was a dangerous one, and if Garcia did NOT return by a certain hour it was probable that his own life had been sacrificed.

It had been arranged, therefore, that in such a case his two subordinates were to make for some prearranged spot where they could escape investigation and be in a position afterwards to renew their attempt.

That would fully explain the facts, would it not?"

The whole inexplicable tangle seemed to straighten out before me. I wondered, as I always did, how it had not been obvious to me before.

"But why should one servant return?"

"We can imagine that in the confusion of flight something precious, something which he could not bear to part with, had been left behind. That would explain his persistence, would it not?"

"Well, what is the next step?"

"The next step is the note received by Garcia at the dinner.

It indicates a confederate at the other end.

Now, where was the other end? I have already shown you that it could only lie in some large house, and that the number of large houses is limited.

My first days in this village were devoted to a series of walks in which in the intervals of my botanical researches I made a reconnaissance of all the large houses and an examination of the family history of the occupants.

One house, and only one, riveted my attention.

It is the famous old Jacobean grange of High Gable, one mile on the farther side of Oxshott, and less than half a mile from the scene of the tragedy.

The other mansions belonged to prosaic and respectable people who live far aloof from romance.

But Mr. Henderson, of High Gable, was by all accounts a curious man to whom curious adventures might befall.

I concentrated my attention, therefore, upon him and his household.

"A singular set of people, Watson-the man himself the most singular of them all.

I managed to see him on a plausible pretext, but I seemed to read in his dark, deepset, brooding eyes that he was perfectly aware of my true business.

He is a man of fifty, strong, active, with iron-gray hair, great bunched black eyebrows, the step of a deer and the air of an emperor-a fierce, masterful man, with a red-hot spirit behind his parchment face.

He is either a foreigner or has lived long in the tropics, for he is yellow and sapless, but tough as whipcord.

His friend and secretary, Mr. Lucas, is undoubtedly a foreigner, chocolate brown, wily, suave, and catlike, with a poisonous gentleness of speech.

You see, Watson, we have come already upon two sets of foreigners-one at Wisteria Lodge and one at High Gable-so our gaps are beginning to close.

"These two men, close and confidential friends, are the centre of the household; but there is one other person who for our immediate purpose may be even more important.

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