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Updated: May 8, 2025
It spoke volumes for the mysterious credentials borne by my friend that the man from Scotland Yard accepted his orders without demur, and, after a brief chat with Mr. Burboyne, Smith passed briskly downstairs. In the hall a man who looked like a groom out of livery was waiting. "Are you Wills?" asked Smith. "Yes, sir."
Three nights ago Sir Crichton came out to me, and appeared very nervous; but at times his nerves you know? Well, on this occasion he asked me to search the study. He had an idea that something was concealed there." "Some THING or someone?" "'Something' was the word he used. I searched, but fruitlessly, and he seemed quite satisfied, and returned to his work." "Thank you, Mr. Burboyne.
Nayland Smith tugged at the lobe of his left ear, as was his habit when meditating. "You had been at work here in this way for some time?" "Yes. Sir Crichton was preparing an important book." "Had anything unusual occurred prior to this evening?" "Yes," said Mr. Burboyne, with evident perplexity; "though I attached no importance to it at the time.
"I have already made that inquiry. Does it suggest anything to your mind? I must confess that it affords me no assistance." "Nothing," I replied. "It is most curious." "Excuse me, Mr. Burboyne," said Smith, now turning to the secretary, "but Inspector Weymouth will tell you that I act with authority. I understand that Sir Crichton was seized with illness in his study?" "Yes at half-past ten.
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