the Sherlock Holmes' test, and there will no longer be any
difficulty."

His eyes fairly glittered as he spoke, and he put his hand
over his heart and bowed as if to some applauding crowd
conjured up by his imagination.

"You are to be congratulated," I remarked, considerably
surprised at his enthusiasm.

"There was the case of Von Bischoff at Frankfort last year.
He would certainly have been hung had this test been in
existence. Then there was Mason of Bradford, and the
notorious Muller, and Lefevre of Montpellier, and Samson of
new Orleans. I could name a score of cases in which it would
have been decisive."

"You seem to be a walking calendar of crime," said Stamford
with a laugh. "You might start a paper on those lines.
Call it the `Police News of the Past.'"

"Very interesting reading it might be made, too," remarked
Sherlock Holmes, sticking a small piece of plaster over the
prick on his finger. "I have to be careful," he continued,
turning to me with a smile, "for I dabble with poisons a good
deal." He held out his hand as he spoke, and I noticed that
it was all mottled over with similar pieces of plaster, and
discoloured with strong acids.

"We came here on business," said Stamford, sitting down on a