do with the matter. That's common sense. Man might have died in
a fit; but then the jewels are missing. Ha! I have a theory.
These flashes come upon me at times.--Just step outside,
sergeant, and you, Mr. Sholto. Your friend can remain.--What do
you think of this, Holmes? Sholto was, on his own confession,
with his brother last night. The brother died in a fit, on which
Sholto walked off with the treasure. How's that?"

"On which the dead man very considerately got up and locked the
door on the inside."

"Hum! There's a flaw there. Let us apply common sense to the
matter. This Thaddeus Sholto WAS with his brother; there WAS a
quarrel; so much we know. The brother is dead and the jewels are
gone. So much also we know. No one saw the brother from the
time Thaddeus left him. His bed had not been slept in. Thaddeus
is evidently in a most disturbed state of mind. His appearance
is--well, not attractive. You see that I am weaving my web round
Thaddeus. The net begins to close upon him."

"You are not quite in possession of the facts yet," said Holmes.
"This splinter of wood, which I have every reason to believe to
be poisoned, was in the man's scalp where you still see the mark;
this card, inscribed as you see it, was on the table; and beside
it lay this rather curious stone-headed instrument. How does all
that fit into your theory?"

"Confirms it in every respect," said the fat detective,
pompously. "House is full of Indian curiosities. Thaddeus
brought this up, and if this splinter be poisonous Thaddeus may