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Our official detectives may blunder in the matter of intelligence, but never in that of courage.

Gregson climbed the stair to arrest this desperate murderer with the same absolutely quiet and businesslike bearing with which he would have ascended the official staircase of Scotland Yard.

The Pinkerton man had tried to push past him, but Gregson had firmly elbowed him back.

London dangers were the privilege of the London force.

The door of the left-hand flat upon the third landing was standing ajar.

Gregson pushed it open.

Within all was absolute silence and darkness.

I struck a match and lit the detective's lantern.

As I did so, and as the flicker steadied into a flame, we all gave a gasp of surprise.

On the deal boards of the carpetless floor there was outlined a fresh track of blood.

The red steps pointed towards us and led away from an inner room, the door of which was closed.

Gregson flung it open and held his light full blaze in front of him, while we all peered eagerly over his shoulders.

In the middle of the floor of the empty room was huddled the figure of an enormous man, his clean-shaven, swarthy face grotesquely horrible in its contortion and his head encircled by a ghastly crimson halo of blood, lying in a broad wet circle upon the white woodwork.

His knees were drawn up, his hands thrown out in agony, and from the centre of his broad, brown, upturned throat there projected the white haft of a knife driven blade-deep into his body.

Giant as he was, the man must have gone down like a pole-axed ox before that terrific blow.

Beside his right hand a most formidable horn-handled, two-edged dagger lay upon the floor, and near it a black kid glove.

"By George! it's Black Gorgiano himself!" cried the American detective. "Someone has got ahead of us this time."

"Here is the candle in the window, Mr. Holmes," said Gregson. "Why, whatever are you doing?"

Holmes had stepped across, had lit the candle, and was passing it backward and forward across the window-panes. Then he peered into the darkness, blew the candle out, and threw it on the floor.

"I rather think that will be helpful," said he. He came over and stood in deep thought while the two professionals were examining the body. "You say that three people came out from the flat while you were waiting downstairs," said he at last. "Did you observe them closely?"

"Yes, I did."

"Was there a fellow about thirty, black-bearded, dark, of middle size?"

"Yes; he was the last to pass me."

"That is your man, I fancy. I can give you his description, and we have a very excellent outline of his footmark. That should be enough for you."

"Not much, Mr. Holmes, among the millions of London."

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