and your hands clenched I was positive that you were indeed
thinking of the gallantry which was shown by both sides in that
desperate struggle. But then, again, your face grew sadder, you
shook your head. You were dwelling upon the sadness and horror
and useless waste of life. Your hand stole towards your own old
wound and a smile quivered on your lips, which showed me that the
ridiculous side of this method of settling international
questions had forced itself upon your mind. At this point I
agreed with you that it was preposterous and was glad to find
that all my deductions had been correct."

"Absolutely!" said I. "And now that you have explained it, I
confess that I am as amazed as before."

"It was very superficial, my dear Watson, I assure you. I should
not have intruded it upon your attention had you not shown some
incredulity the other day. But I have in my hands here a little
problem which may prove to be more difficult of solution than my
small essay I thought reading. Have you observed in the paper a
short paragraph referring to the remarkable contents of a packet
sent through the post to Miss Cushing, of Cross Street, Croydon?"

"No, I saw nothing."

"Ah! then you must have overlooked it. Just toss it over to me.
Here it is, under the financial column. Perhaps you would be
good enough to read it aloud."

I picked up the paper which he had thrown back to me and read the
paragraph indicated. It was headed, "A Gruesome Packet."