"It cannot be," said Mr. Silver, with evident distress. "I know the lad well, and a better fellow never breathed."
"I speak the truth," said Holes, unemotionally. "The induction is perfect. He is wearing a red tie. That tie was not always red. It was, therefore, stained by something. Blood is red. It was, therefore, stained by blood. Now it is well known that the blood of great aunts is of a lighter shade, and the colour of that tie has a lighter shade. The blood that stained it was, therefore, the blood of his great aunt. As for the bigamy, you will have noticed that as he passed he blew two rings of cigarette-smoke, and they both floated in the air at the same time. A ring is a symbol of matrimony. Two rings together mean bigamy. He is, therefore, a bigamist."
For a moment we were silent, struck with horror at this dreadful, this convincing revelation of criminal infamy. Then I broke out:
"Holes," I said, "you deserve the thanks of the whole community. You will of course communicate with the police."
"No," said Holes, "they are fools, and I do not care to mix myself up with them. Besides, I have other fish to fry."
Saying this, he led me to a secluded part of the grounds, and whispered in my ear.
"Not a word of what I am about to tell you. There will be a burglary here to-night."
"But, Holes," I said, startled in spite of myself at the calm omniscience of my friend, "had we not better do something; arm the servants, warn the police, bolt the doors and bar the windows, and sit up with blunderbusses—anything would be better than this state of dreadful expectancy. May I not tell Mr. Silver?"
"Potson, you are amiable, but you will never learn my methods." And with that enigmatic reply I had to be content in the meantime.
The evening had passed as pleasantly as evenings at Umbrosa always pass. There had been music; the Umbrosa choir, composed of members of the family and guests, had performed in the drawing-room, and Peter had drawn tears from the eyes of every one by his touching rendering of the well-known songs of "The Dutiful Son" and "The Cartridge-bearer." Shortly afterwards, the ladies retired to bed, and the gentlemen, after the customary interval in the smoking-room, followed. We were in high good-humour, and had made many plans for the morrow. Only Holes seemed pre-occupied. Once I heard him muttering to himself, "It's bound to come off properly; never failed yet. They wired to say they'd be here by the late train. Well, let them come. I shall be ready for them." I did not venture at the time to ask him the meaning of these mysterious words.