The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1921-07-29

(Continued.)
 'You- may place considerable con- fidence in MT. Holmes, sir,'' said the police agent, loftily. "tHe has his own little methods, which are, if he won't mind my saying so, just a little too theoretical and fantastic, but he has the makings of a detective in him. It is not too much to say that once Or twice, as in that business of the ShoIto murder and the Agra treasure the official force.''
 "Oh, if you say so. MT. Jones' it is all right said the strangere with deferehce. "StiIl, I confess that I miss my rubber. It is, the first Sat- urday night for seven -and-twenty years that I have not bad my rub ber"
 ''I think you will find" said Sher- lock Holmes, that you will play for a higher stake tonight than you have ever done yet, and that the play will be more exciting For you, MT. Mer- ryweather, the stake will be some be the man upon whom you wish to lay your hands,"
 John Clay, the murderer, thief snaasher, and forger. He's a young man, MT. Merryweather, but he is at the head of his profession, and I would rather have my bracelets on him than on any criminal in London. Hes remarkable man. is young OoIlh Sldy- HIS STanO1ath6r a royal duke, and he himself has been to Eton and Oxford. His brain is as cunning as his fingers, and though we meet signs of him at every turn we never know where to find the man himself. He'll crack a. crib in Scotland one week, and be raising money to build an orphange in Corn wall the next I've been on his track for years, and have never set eyes
 "T hope that f may have the pleas ure Of Introducing you tonight I've had one or two little turns also with MT. John Clay, and I agree with you that he is at the head of his profes- sion. It is past ten, however. and qu1te tlme that we started If YOU two will take the first hanson. Wat son ana 1 will follow in the second.
 Sherlock Holmes was not very and lay back in the cab fnmn,ine the tunes which he had heard in tbe atuernoon: We rattled through an tiI Ioiess ys<s laoyrdnth of gas-lit streets un- Street. nsoon
 trust that I am not more dense 0nan my neighbors, but I was always oppressed with a sense of my own SSUupld[ly In my dealings with Sher- iock Holmes. Here I had heard what ne had heard, I had seen what he had seen. ard yet from his words it was evaoen9 that he saw clearly not only
 
 about to happen while to me the whole business was still confused and Srotesque. As I drove home to my house in Kensington I thought over F all, from the extraordinary story of the red-headed copier of the "En- cycIopaedia" down to the visit to SaNe-Coburg Square, and the omi- nous words with which he had parted from me. What was this nocturnal expedition, and why should I go armed? Where were we going, and what were we to do? had the hint from Holmes that this smooth-faced pawnbrokerS assistant was a for m1dable mana man who might play a deep game. T tried to puzzle it out, but gave it up in despair and set tine matter aside until night should bring an explanation.
 It was quarter past nine when I started for home and made my way across the Park, and so through OK ford Street to Baker Street Two hansoms were standing at the door, and, as I entered the passage, heard the sound of voices from above On entering his room I found Holmes in animated conversation with two men, one of whom I recognized as Peter Jones. the official police agent, while the other was a long, thin, sad faced man, with a very shiny hat and