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I guess that's all, Earl, for the present, although if I were you I would keep these ten recovered cuff-buttons in some safer place than that dinky little jewel cabinet on your dresser, since a little bird recently informed me that the desperate William X. Budd, the author of all these atrocities, is about to visit Normanstow Towers to-morrow morning, and attempt to carry them all off for good.
I feel as if I could sleep for a year, after all that excitement out at Normanstow Towers!" sighed Holmes, as he mopped his forehead on arriving finally at our old rooms on Baker Street, about a quarter after eleven that Friday morning. "Same here, Holmes.
"Give me the village constables, any of them, at Hedge-gutheridge, quick!" he called through the instrument. "This one of the constables?" after a moment. "This is Normanstow Towers. The Earl of Puddingham has apparently been murdered by some one attempting to steal the last of his diamond cuff-buttons.... Hemlock Holmes, from London, talking.
In a moment the mistress of Normanstow Towers stood before us. She gave a sniff of disdain as she looked at her brother-in-law, Lord Launcelot. "I beg pardon, Your Ladyship, but what do you know concerning this sad affair?" asked Holmes politely, that is to say, politely for him.
Our visitor gasped again in amazement, handed Holmes his card, and began: "Well, my name is Eustace Thorneycroft, private secretary to George Arthur Percival Chauncey Dunderhaugh, the ninth Earl of Puddingham, who lives at Normanstow Towers, near Hedge-gutheridge, over in Surrey.
The library was a very handsomely furnished library, but it looked as if the noble master of Normanstow Towers did more drinking than reading in its luxurious interior, as three trays with at least a dozen empty glasses stood on the broad mahogany table, while a decanter of whiskey, a siphon of seltzer-water, and five quart bottles of wine decorated a smaller table at one side.
The darned village was three-quarters of a mile from Normanstow Towers, and I didn't feel like taking a tramp just then, but Holmes seemed to be in high spirits as we passed along the ancient and dilapidated main street of the village, sizing up the signs above the stores until we came to one that read: WILFRED WUXLEY FLOUR and FEED
Holmes snatched it out of his hand, tore it open, and hastily read it to the crowd: INSPECTOR BARNABAS LETSTRAYED, NORMANSTOW TOWERS, SURREY, Have you found Puddingham's cuff-buttons yet? Answer. "Wouldn't that knock the specs off your grandmother's nose?" sneered Holmes.
"Gosh, it's raining worse than ever now!" he said. "Well, I've got to shovel dust, or, rather, mud, back to Normanstow Towers, anyhow, or the Earl will raise the deuce with me! Be sure to come out on the next train after this, Mr.
However," and Louis seemed to hesitate a moment, "if anybody else in Normanstow Towers still holds the gems, there is no telling what may happen to them. I wish I could help you find the things; but when a Canadian gentleman who tells you he is half French, and used to live in that beautiful city of Quebec, comes and and "
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