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The young man took from his waistcoat a crumpled envelope, and turning to the table he shook out upon it five little dried orange pips.

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"This is the envelope," he continued. "The postmark is London -- eastern division. Within are the very words which were upon my father's last message: 'K. K. K.'; and then 'Put the papers on the sundial.' "

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"What have you done?'' asked Holmes.

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"Nothing."

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"Nothing?"

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"To tell the truth" -- he sank his face into his thin, white hands -- "I have felt helpless. I have felt like one of those poor rabbits when the snake is writhing towards it. I seem to be in the grasp of some resistless, inexorable evil, which no foresight and no precautions can guard against."

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"Tut! tut!" cried Sherlock Holmes. "You must act, man, or you are lost. Nothing but energy can save you.


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