telegrams from both Colonel Ross, the owner of the
horse, and from Inspector Gregory, who is looking
after the case, inviting my cooperation."

"Tuesday evening!" I exclaimed. "And this is Thursday
morning. Why didn't you go down yesterday?"

"Because I made a blunder, my dear Watson--which is, I
am afraid, a more common occurrence than any one would
think who only knew me through your memoirs. The fact
is that I could not believe it possible that the most
remarkable horse in England could long remain
concealed, especially in so sparsely inhabited a place
as the north of Dartmoor. From hour to hour yesterday
I expected to hear that he had been found, and that
his abductor was the murderer of John Straker. When,
however, another morning had come, and I found that
beyond the arrest of young Fitzroy Simpson nothing had
been done, I felt that it was time for me to take
action. Yet in some ways I feel that yesterday has
not been wasted."

"You have formed a theory, then?"

"At least I have got a grip of the essential facts of
the case. I shall enumerate them to you, for nothing
clears up a case so much as stating it to another
person, and I can hardly expect your co-operation if I
do not show you the position from which we start."