The Tomahawk., 1925-08-20

You would do we'll to read my mono
graph upon the subject"
The meal passed in silence, save for
the voice of Dalrymple ordering fresh
supplies. Like all great men, Shomes
sometimes went for days without a
meal, particularly when broke; then
he ate ravenously. So 1t was on this
occasion. Fatson, being an opportu-
mist, did likewise. Dalrymple watched
them with ever increasing respect. 81
am glad the other fellow got my
Shirt" he muttered. as he paid the
check.
At the scenes of the crime, as
Shomes called them until he could de
termine which was the scene, the IA
nous sleuth was at his best. Mag7,i-
fying-glass in hand, he poked and
measured everywhere, entering notes
In the big ledger which Fatson carried.
From time to time he put choice bits
Of evidence, such as bottle Of Will
sons, few cigars, and about a quire
of the club paper, into his pockets;
clews like these could not escape the
eagle eye of Shomes.
Finally he rose. "Mr. Dalrymple,"
he said, proudly, II know the criminal
No further attempt will be made upon
your life tonight Go home, and to-
morrow night I will have news for
you! Fatson and I will now retire."
The next day was busy one for
both Fatson and Shomes. The former
went about his medical labors In the
veterinary department Of the s. P. 9.
A.; the noted sleuth elected to ex.
pertinent in his laboratory, as cool and
collected as If Dalrymple were not
compelled by fiendish crime to wear
his extra shirt. He refused to satisfy
Fatson's curiosity by any statement
other then Tonight we shall know
ALL"
The day passed slowly for Fatson
Twice his boss called him down for
an abstraction which caused him to
inject strychnine into the veins of
horses used by members Of the So
ciety, instead Of those of less fortunate
equines placed In his hands for
painless quietus. Annoyed by these
trifes, Fatson returned, to find Shomes
deep in one of those profound chem
ical researches which would have
made him famous in the world of sci
ence had he cared to follow such
life. In the present instance, he was
trying to make rye high ball out of
wood alcohol and lithia water.
"How's the caseY asked Fatson,
cheerfully.
1--WE haven't had case for a month,
you rummy!" retorted Shomes. The
last one we had you finished up when
I wasn't around. Got soused on two
bottles, too! Thank you for remind
ing me of it!"
II meant the case Of the stolen
shirt" replied Fatson, hurriedly.
"Oh-thatl The crime was commit
ted by a tall, dark, red-headed man,
with scar on his left cheek-a tool
Of Desmond's! I have decoyed him
here tonight. He thinks to find money
and Jewels; instead, he will find mel"
No one but Shomes could have been
so deadly menacing.
The telephone tangled. Shomes tore
down the receiver.
"That you, Shomes? This is Dali
rymple. Remember that shirt bust
ness? Well, we were scared for moth
Ing. It seems that at the club, Smith
he's trifle ar-sighted-thought he
saw rayeling on nv coat II han
pened to be thread Of my shirt, and
when he kept on pulling-well, you
know what happens when you pull a
thread Of one of those knitted things!
I guess we can call the mystery un-
raveledl"
"Just what was about to inform
you, Mr.. Dalrymple. Herlock Shomes
cannot be deceived!"
Hanging up the receiver, the great
est Of all detectives turned to meet
the admiring gaze of Fatson.