talent instantly recognizes genius, and MacDonald had talent
enough for his profession to enable him to perceive that there
was no humiliation in seeking the assistance of one who already
stood alone in Europe, both in his gifts and in his experience.
Holmes was not prone to friendship, but he was tolerant of the
big Scotchman, and smiled at the sight of him.

"You are an early bird, Mr. Mac," said he. "I wish you luck with
your worm. I fear this means that there is some mischief afoot."

"If you said 'hope' instead of 'fear,' it would be nearer the
truth, I'm thinking, Mr. Holmes," the inspector answered, with a
knowing grin. "Well, maybe a wee nip would keep out the raw
morning chill. No, I won't smoke, I thank you. I'll have to be
pushing on my way; for the early hours of a case are the precious
ones, as no man knows better than your own self. But--but--"

The inspector had stopped suddenly, and was staring with a look
of absolute amazement at a paper upon the table. It was the
sheet upon which I had scrawled the enigmatic message.

"Douglas!" he stammered. "Birlstone! What's this, Mr. Holmes?
Man, it's witchcraft! Where in the name of all that is wonderful
did you get those names?"

"It is a cipher that Dr. Watson and I have had occasion to solve.
But why--what's amiss with the names?"

The inspector looked from one to the other of us in dazed
astonishment. "Just this," said he, "that Mr. Douglas of