He told me that certain letters might come to him from Londonwhich would be marked by a cross under the stamp. These were tobe set aside for his own eyes only. I may say that several of thesedid pass through my hands， that they had the E. C. mark， and werein an illiterate handwriting. If he answered them at all the answersdid not pass through my hands nor into the letter-basket in whichour correspondence was collected.”
“And the box，” said Holmes.
“Ah， yes， the box. The professor brought back a little woodenbox from his travels. It was the one thing which suggested aContinental tour， for it was one of those quaint carved thingswhich one associates with Germany. This he placed in hisinstrument cupboard. One day， in looking for a canula， I tookup the box. To my surprise he was very angry， and reproved mein words which were quite savage for my curiosity. It was thefirst time such a thing had happened， and I was deeply hurt. Iendeavoured to explain that it was a mere accident that I hadtouched the box， but all the evening I was conscious that helooked at me harshly and that the incident was rankling in hismind.” Mr. Bennett drew a little diary book from his pocket. “Thatwas on July 2d，” said he.
“You are certainly an admirable witness，” said Holmes. “I mayneed some of these dates which you have noted.”
“I learned method among other things from my great teacher.
From the time that I observed abnormality in his behaviour I feltthat it was my duty to study his case. Thus I have it here that itwas on that very day， July 2d， that Roy attacked the professor as hecame from his study into the hall. Again， on July 11th， there was ascene of the same sort， and then I have a note of yet another uponJuly 20th. After that we had to banish Roy to the stables. He was adear， affectionate animal—but I fear I weary you.”
Mr. Bennett spoke in a tone of reproach， for it was very clearthat Holmes was not listening. His face was rigid and his eyesgazed abstractedly at the ceiling. With an effort he recoveredhimself.
“Singular！ Most singular！” he murmured. “These details werenew to me， Mr. Bennett. I think we have now fairly gone overthe old ground， have we not？ But you spoke of some freshdevelopments.”
The pleasant， open face of our visitor clouded over， shadowedby some grim remembrance. “What I speak of occurred the nightbefore last，” said he. “I was lying awake about two in the morning，when I was aware of a dull muffled sound coming from thepassage. I opened my door and peeped out. I should explain thatthe professor sleeps at the end of the passage——”
“The date being——？” asked Holmes.
Our visitor was clearly annoyed at so irrelevant an interruption.
“I have said， sir， that it was the night before last—that is，September 4th.”
Holmes nodded and smiled.
“Pray continue，” said he.
“He sleeps at the end of the passage and would have to passmy door in order to reach the staircase. It was a really terrifyingexperience， Mr. Holmes. I think that I am as strong-nerved asmy neighbours， but I was shaken by what I saw. The passagewas dark save that one window halfway along it threw a patch oflight. I could see that something was coming along the passage，something dark and crouching. Then suddenly it emerged into thelight， and I saw that it was he. He was crawling， Mr. Holmes—crawling！ He was not quite on his hands and knees. I shouldrather say on his hands and feet， with his face sunk between hishands. Yet he seemed to move with ease. I was so paralyzed bythe sight that it was not until he had reached my door that I wasable to step forward and ask if I could assist him. His answer wasextraordinary. He sprang up， spat out some atrocious word at me，and hurried on past me， and down the staircase. I waited aboutfor an hour， but he did not come back. It must have been daylightbefore he regained his room.”
“Well， Watson， what make you of that？” asked Holmes with theair of the pathologist who presents a rare specimen.
“Lumbago， possibly. I have known a severe attack make a manwalk in just such a way， and nothing would be more trying to thetemper.”
“Good， Watson！ You always keep us flat-footed on the ground.
But we can hardly accept lumbago， since he was able to standerect in a moment.”
“He was never better in health，” said Bennett. “In fact， he isstronger than I have known him for years. But there are the facts，Mr. Holmes. It is not a case in which we can consult the police，and yet we are utterly at our wit’s end as to what to do， and we feelin some strange way that we are drifting towards disaster. Edith—Miss Presbury—feels as I do， that we cannot wait passively anylonger.”
“It is certainly a very curious and suggestive case. What do youthink， Watson？”
“Speaking as a medical man，” said I， “it appears to be a case foran alienist. The old gentleman’s cerebral processes were disturbedby the love affair. He made a journey abroad in the hope ofbreaking himself of the passion. His letters and the box may beconnected with some other private transaction—a loan， perhaps，or share certificates， which are in the box.”
“And the wolfhound no doubt disapproved of the financialbargain. No， no， Watson， there is more in it than this. Now， I canonly suggest——”
What Sherlock Holmes was about to suggest will never beknown， for at this moment the door opened and a young lady wasshown into the room. As she appeared Mr. Bennett sprang up witha cry and ran forward with his hands out to meet those which shehad herself outstretched.
“Edith， dear！ Nothing the matter， I hope？”
“I felt I must follow you. Oh， Jack， I have been so dreadfullyfrightened！ It is awful to be there alone.”
“Mr. Holmes， this is the young lady I spoke of. This is myfiancée.”
“We were gradually coming to that conclusion， were we not，Watson？” Holmes answered with a smile. “I take it， Miss Presbury，that there is some fresh development in the case， and that youthought we should know？”
Our new visitor， a bright， handsome girl of a conventionalEnglish type， smiled back at Holmes as she seated herself besideMr. Bennett.