can say nothing.  Mind you, she is a truthful woman, Mr. 
   Holmes, and whatever trouble there may have been in her 
   past life it has been no fault of hers.  I am only a simple 
   Norfolk squire, but there is not a man in England who ranks 
   his family honour more highly than I do.  She knows it 
   well, and she knew it well before she married me.  She 
   would never bring any stain upon it -- of that I am sure.
   "Well, now I come to the queer part of my story.  About a 
   week ago -- it was the Tuesday of last week -- I found on 
   one of the window-sills a number of absurd little dancing 
   figures, like these upon the paper.  They were scrawled 
   with chalk.  I thought that it was the stable-boy who had 
   drawn them, but the lad swore he knew nothing about it.  
   Anyhow, they had come there during the night.  I had them 
   washed out, and I only mentioned the matter to my wife 
   afterwards.  To my surprise she took it very seriously, and 
   begged me if any more came to let her see them.  None did 
   come for a week, and then yesterday morning I found this 
   paper lying on the sun-dial in the garden.  I showed it to 
   Elsie, and down she dropped in a dead faint.  Since then 
   she has looked like a woman in a dream, half dazed, and 
   with terror always lurking in her eyes.  It was then that I 
   wrote and sent the paper to you, Mr. Holmes.  It was not a 
   thing that I could take to the police, for they would have 
   laughed at me, but you will tell me what to do.  I am not a 
   rich man; but if there is any danger threatening my little 
   woman I would spend my last copper to shield her."
   He was a fine creature, this man of the old English soil, 
   simple, straight, and gentle, with his great, earnest blue 
   eyes and broad, comely face.  His love for his wife and his 
   trust in her shone in his features.  Holmes had listened to 
   his story with the utmost attention, and now he sat for 
   some time in silent thought.
   "Don't you think, Mr. Cubitt," said he, at last, "that your 
   best plan would be to make a direct appeal to your wife, 
   and to ask her to share her secret with you?"
   Hilton Cubitt shook his massive head.
   "A promise is a promise, Mr. Holmes.  If Elsie wished to 
   tell me she would.  If not, it is not for me to force her 
   confidence.  But I am justified in taking my own line -- 
   and I will."
   "Then I will help you with all my heart.  In the first 
   place, have you heard of any strangers being seen in your 
   neighbourhood?"
   "No."
   "I presume that it is a very quiet place.  Any fresh face 
   would cause comment?"
   "In the immediate neighbourhood, yes.  But we have several 
   small watering-places not very far away.  And the farmers 
   take in lodgers."
   "These hieroglyphics have evidently a meaning.  If it is a 
   purely arbitrary one it may be impossible for us to solve 
   it.  If, on the other hand, it is systematic, I have no 
   doubt that we shall get to the bottom of it.  But this 
   particular sample is so short that I can do nothing, and 
   the facts which you have brought me are so indefinite that 
   we have no basis for an investigation.  I would suggest 
   that you return to Norfolk, that you keep a keen look-out, 
   and that you take an exact copy of any fresh dancing men 
   which may appear.  It is a thousand pities that we have not 
   a reproduction of those which were done in chalk upon the 
   window-sill.  Make a discreet inquiry also as to any 
   strangers in the neighbourhood.  When you have collected 
   some fresh evidence come to me again.  That is the best 
   advice which I can give you, Mr. Hilton Cubitt.  If there 
   are any pressing fresh developments I shall be always ready 
   to run down and see you in your Norfolk home."
   The interview left Sherlock Holmes very thoughtful, and 
   several times in the next few days I saw him take his slip 
   of paper from his note-book and look long and earnestly at 
   the curious figures inscribed upon it.  He made no allusion 
   to the affair, however, until one afternoon a fortnight or 
   so later.  I was going out when he called me back.
   "You had better stay here, Watson."
   "Why?"
   "Because I had a wire from Hilton Cubitt this morning -- 
   you remember Hilton Cubitt, of the dancing men?  He was to 
   reach Liverpool Street at one-twenty.  He may be here at 
   any moment.  I gather from his wire that there have been 
   some new incidents of importance."
   We had not long to wait, for our Norfolk squire came 
   straight from the station as fast as a hansom could bring 
   him.  He was looking worried and depressed, with tired eyes 
   and a lined forehead.
   "It's getting on my nerves, this business, Mr. Holmes," 
   said he, as he sank, like a wearied man, into an arm-chair.  
   "It's bad enough to feel that you are surrounded by unseen, 
   unknown folk, who have some kind of design upon you; but 
   when, in addition to that, you know that it is just killing 
   your wife by inches, then it becomes as much as flesh and 
   blood can endure.  She's wearing away under it -- just 
   wearing away before my eyes."
   "Has she said anything yet?"
   "No, Mr. Holmes, she has not.  And yet there have been 
   times when the poor girl has wanted to speak, and yet could 
   not quite bring herself to take the plunge.  I have tried 
   to help her; but I dare say I did it clumsily, and scared 
   her off from it.  She has spoken about my old family, and 
   our reputation in the county, and our pride in our 
   unsullied honour, and I always felt it was leading to the 
   point; but somehow it turned off before we got there."
   "But you have found out something for yourself?"
   "A good deal, Mr. Holmes.  I have several fresh dancing men 
   pictures for you to examine, and, what is more important, I 
   have seen the fellow."
   "What, the man who draws them?"
   "Yes, I saw him at his work.  But I will tell you 
   everything in order.  When I got back after my visit to 
   you, the very first thing I saw next morning was a fresh 
   crop of dancing men.  They had been drawn in chalk upon the 
   black wooden door of the tool-house, which stands beside 
   the lawn in full view of the front windows.  I took an 
   exact copy, and here it is."  He unfolded a paper and laid 
   it upon the table.  Here is a copy of the hieroglyphics:--
                          {GRAPHIC}
   "Excellent!" said Holmes.  "Excellent!  Pray continue."
   "When I had taken the copy I rubbed out the marks; but two 
   mornings later a fresh inscription had appeared.  I have a 
   copy of it here":--
                          {GRAPHIC}
   Holmes rubbed his hands and chuckled with delight.
   "Our material is rapidly accumulating," said he.
   "Three days later a message was left scrawled upon paper, 
   and placed under a pebble upon the sun-dial.  Here it is.  
   The characters are, as you see, exactly the same as th 
					     					 			e 
   last one.  After that I determined to lie in wait; so I got 
   out my revolver and I sat up in my study, which overlooks 
   the lawn and garden.  About two in the morning I was seated 
   by the window, all being dark save for the moonlight 
   outside, when I heard steps behind me, and there was my 
   wife in her dressing-gown.  She implored me to come to bed.  
   I told her frankly that I wished to see who it was who 
   played such absurd tricks upon us.  She answered that it 
   was some senseless practical joke, and that I should not 
   take any notice of it.
   "'If it really annoys you, Hilton, we might go and travel, 
   you and I, and so avoid this nuisance.'
   "'What, be driven out of our own house by a practical 
   joker?' said I.  'Why, we should have the whole county 
   laughing at us.'
   "'Well, come to bed,' said she, 'and we can discuss it in 
   the morning.'
   "Suddenly, as she spoke, I saw her white face grow whiter 
   yet in the moonlight, and her hand tightened upon my 
   shoulder.  Something was moving in the shadow of the 
   tool-house.  I saw a dark, creeping figure which crawled 
   round the corner and squatted in front of the door.  
   Seizing my pistol I was rushing out, when my wife threw her 
   arms round me and held me with convulsive strength.  I 
   tried to throw her off, but she clung to me most 
   desperately.  At last I got clear, but by the time I had 
   opened the door and reached the house the creature was 
   gone.  He had left a trace of his presence, however, for 
   there on the door was the very same arrangement of dancing 
   men which had already twice appeared, and which I have 
   copied on that paper.  There was no other sign of the 
   fellow anywhere, though I ran all over the grounds.  And 
   yet the amazing thing is that he must have been there all 
   the time, for when I examined the door again in the morning 
   he had scrawled some more of his pictures under the line 
   which I had already seen."
   "Have you that fresh drawing?"
   "Yes; it is very short, but I made a copy of it, and here 
   it is."
   Again he produced a paper.  The new dance was in this form:--
                           {GRAPHIC}
   "Tell me," said Holmes -- and I could see by his eyes that 
   he was much excited -- "was this a mere addition to the 
   first, or did it appear to be entirely separate?"
   "It was on a different panel of the door."
   "Excellent!  This is far the most important of all for our 
   purpose.  It fills me with hopes.  Now, Mr. Hilton Cubitt, 
   please continue your most interesting statement."
   "I have nothing more to say, Mr. Holmes, except that I was 
   angry with my wife that night for having held me back when 
   I might have caught the skulking rascal.  She said that she 
   feared that I might come to harm.  For an instant it had 
   crossed my mind that perhaps what she really feared was 
   that _he_ might come to harm, for I could not doubt that 
   she knew who this man was and what he meant by these 
   strange signals.  But there is a tone in my wife's voice, 
   Mr. Holmes, and a look in her eyes which forbid doubt, and 
   I am sure that it was indeed my own safety that was in her 
   mind.  There's the whole case, and now I want your advice 
   as to what I ought to do.  My own inclination is to put 
   half-a-dozen of my farm lads in the shrubbery, and when 
   this fellow comes again to give him such a hiding that he 
   will leave us in peace for the future."
   "I fear it is too deep a case for such simple remedies," 
   said Holmes.  "How long can you stay in London?"
   "I must go back to-day.  I would not leave my wife alone 
   all night for anything.  She is very nervous and begged me 
   to come back."
   "I dare say you are right.  But if you could have stopped I 
   might possibly have been able to return with you in a day 
   or two.  Meanwhile you will leave me these papers, and I 
   think that it is very likely that I shall be able to pay 
   you a visit shortly and to throw some light upon your 
   case."
   Sherlock Holmes preserved his calm professional manner 
   until our visitor had left us, although it was easy for me, 
   who knew him so well, to see that he was profoundly 
   excited.  The moment that Hilton Cubitt's broad back had 
   disappeared through the door my comrade rushed to the 
   table, laid out all the slips of paper containing dancing 
   men in front of him, and threw himself into an intricate 
   and elaborate calculation.  For two hours I watched him as 
   he covered sheet after sheet of paper with figures and 
   letters, so completely absorbed in his task that he had 
   evidently forgotten my presence.  Sometimes he was making 
   progress and whistled and sang at his work; sometimes he 
   was puzzled, and would sit for long spells with a furrowed 
   brow and a vacant eye.  Finally he sprang from his chair 
   with a cry of satisfaction, and walked up and down the room 
   rubbing his hands together.  Then he wrote a long telegram 
   upon a cable form.  "If my answer to this is as I hope, you 
   will have a very pretty case to add to your collection, 
   Watson," said he.  "I expect that we shall be able to go 
   down to Norfolk to-morrow, and to take our friend some very 
   definite news as to the secret of his annoyance."
   I confess that I was filled with curiosity, but I was aware 
   that Holmes liked to make his disclosures at his own time 
   and in his own way; so I waited until it should suit him to 
   take me into his confidence.
   But there was a delay in that answering telegram, and two 
   days of impatience followed, during which Holmes pricked up 
   his ears at every ring of the bell.  On the evening of the 
   second there came a letter from Hilton Cubitt.  All was 
   quiet with him, save that a long inscription had appeared 
   that morning upon the pedestal of the sun-dial.  He 
   enclosed a copy of it, which is here reproduced:--
                          {GRAPHIC}
   Holmes bent over this grotesque frieze for some minutes, 
   and then suddenly sprang to his feet with an exclamation of 
   surprise and dismay.  His face was haggard with anxiety.
   "We have let this affair go far enough," said he.  "Is 
   there a train to North Walsham to-night?"
   I turned up the time-table.  The last had just gone.
   "Then we shall breakfast early and take the very first in 
   the morning," said Holmes.  "Our presence is most urgently 
   needed.  Ah! here is our expected cablegram.  One moment, 
   Mrs. Hudson; there may be an answer.  No, that is quite as 
   I expected.  This message makes it even more essential that 
   we should not lose an hour in letting Hilton Cubitt know 
   how matters stand, for it is a singular and a dangerous web 
   in which our simple Norfolk squire is entangled."
   So, indeed, it proved, and as I come to the dark conclusion 
   of a story which had seemed to me to be only childish and 
 & 
					     					 			nbsp; bizarre I experience once again the dismay and horror with 
   which I was filled.  Would that I had some brighter ending 
   to communicate to my readers, but these are the chronicles 
   of fact, and I must follow to their dark crisis the strange 
   chain of events which for some days made Ridling Thorpe 
   Manor a household word through the length and breadth of 
   England.
   We had hardly alighted at North Walsham, and mentioned the 
   name of our destination, when the station-master hurried 
   towards us.  "I suppose that you are the detectives from 
   London?" said he. 
   A look of annoyance passed over Holmes's face.
   "What makes you think such a thing?"
   "Because Inspector Martin from Norwich has just passed 
   through.  But maybe you are the surgeons.  She's not dead --
   or wasn't by last accounts.  You may be in time to save 
   her yet -- though it be for the gallows."
   Holmes's brow was dark with anxiety.
   "We are going to Ridling Thorpe Manor," said he, "but we 
   have heard nothing of what has passed there."
   "It's a terrible business," said the station-master.  "They 
   are shot, both Mr. Hilton Cubitt and his wife.  She shot 
   him and then herself -- so the servants say.  He's dead and 
   her life is despaired of.  Dear, dear, one of the oldest 
   families in the County of Norfolk, and one of the most 
   honoured."
   Without a word Holmes hurried to a carriage, and during the 
   long seven miles' drive he never opened his mouth.  Seldom 
   have I seen him so utterly despondent.  He had been uneasy 
   during all our journey from town, and I had observed that 
   he had turned over the morning papers with anxious 
   attention; but now this sudden realization of his worst 
   fears left him in a blank melancholy.  He leaned back in 
   his seat, lost in gloomy speculation.  Yet there was much 
   around us to interest us, for we were passing through as 
   singular a country-side as any in England, where a few 
   scattered cottages represented the population of to-day, 
   while on every hand enormous square-towered churches 
   bristled up from the flat, green landscape and told of the 
   glory and prosperity of old East Anglia.  At last the 
   violet rim of the German Ocean appeared over the green edge 
   of the Norfolk coast, and the driver pointed with his whip 
   to two old brick and timber gables which projected from a 
   grove of trees.  "That's Ridling Thorpe Manor," said he.
   As we drove up to the porticoed front door I observed in 
   front of it, beside the tennis lawn, the black tool-house 
   and the pedestalled sun-dial with which we had such strange 
   associations.  A dapper little man, with a quick, alert 
   manner and a waxed moustache, had just descended from a 
   high dog-cart.  He introduced himself as Inspector Martin, 
   of the Norfolk Constabulary, and he was considerably 
   astonished when he heard the name of my companion.
   "Why, Mr. Holmes, the crime was only committed at three 
   this morning.  How could you hear of it in London and get 
   to the spot as soon as I?"
   "I anticipated it.  I came in the hope of preventing it."
   "Then you must have important evidence of which we are 
   ignorant, for they were said to be a most united couple."
   "I have only the evidence of the dancing men," said Holmes.  
   "I will explain the matter to you later.  Meanwhile, since 
   it is too late to prevent this tragedy, I am very anxious 
   that I should use the knowledge which I possess in order to 
   ensure that justice be done.  Will you associate me in your 
   investigation, or will you prefer that I should act 
   independently?"
   "I should be proud to feel that we were acting together, 
   Mr. Holmes," said the inspector, earnestly.
   "In that case I should be glad to hear the evidence and to 
   examine the premises without an instant of unnecessary 
   delay."
   Inspector Martin had the good sense to allow my friend to 
   do things in his own fashion, and contented himself with 
   carefully noting the results.  The local surgeon, an old,