My poor friend's face had suddenly assumed the most dreadful expression.
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His eyes rolled upwards, his features writhed in agony, and with a suppressed groan he dropped on his face upon the ground.
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Horrified at the suddenness and severity of the attack, we carried him into the kitchen, where he lay back in a large chair, and breathed heavily for some minutes.
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Finally, with a shamefaced apology for his weakness, he rose once more.
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"Watson would tell you that I have only just recovered from a severe illness," he explained. "I am liable to these sudden nervous attacks."
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"Shall I send you home in my trap?" asked old Cunningham.
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"Well, since I am here, there is one point on which I should like to feel sure. We can very easily verify it."
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"What was it?"
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"Well, it seems to me that it is just possible that the arrival of this poor fellow William was not before, but after, the entrance of the burglary into the house. You appear to take it for granted that, although the door was forced, the robber never got in."
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"I fancy that is quite obvious," said Mr. Cunningham, gravely. "Why, my son Alec had not yet gone to bed, and he would certainly have heard any one moving about."
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"Where was he sitting?"
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"I was smoking in my dressing-room."
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"Which window is that?"
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"The last on the left next my father's."
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"Both of your lamps were lit, of course?"
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"Undoubtedly."
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"There are some very singular points here," said Holmes, smiling. "Is it not extraordinary that a burglary-and a burglar who had had some previous experience-should deliberately break into a house at a time when he could see from the lights that two of the family were still afoot?"
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"He must have been a cool hand."
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"Well, of course, if the case were not an odd one we should not have been driven to ask you for an explanation," said young Mr. Alec.
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"But as to your ideas that the man had robbed the house before William tackled him, I think it a most absurd notion.
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Wouldn't we have found the place disarranged, and missed the things which he had taken?"
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"It depends on what the things were," said Holmes.
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"You must remember that we are dealing with a burglar who is a very peculiar fellow, and who appears to work on lines of his own.
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Look, for example, at the queer lot of things which he took from Acton's-what was it?-a ball of string, a letter-weight, and I don't know what other odds and ends."
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"Well, we are quite in your hands, Mr. Holmes," said old Cunningham. "Anything which you or the Inspector may suggest will most certainly be done."
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