Straker

John Straker, who is a married man, lives in a small villa about two hundred yards from the stables. He has no children, keeps one maid-servant, and is comfortably off.

Mrs. Straker awoke at seven in the morning, to find that her husband had not yet returned.

It was clear, however, that Straker had defended himself vigorously against his assailants, for in his right hand he held a small knife, which was clotted with blood up to the handle, while in his left he clasped a red and black silk cravat.

"Surely I met you in Plymouth at a garden-party some little time ago, Mrs. Straker?" said Holmes. "No, sir; you are mistaken." "Dear me! Why, I could have sworn to it. You wore a costume of dove-coloured silk with ostrich-feather trimming." "I never had such a dress, sir," answered the lady.

We may leave the question of who killed John Straker for the instant, and confine ourselves to finding out what has become of the horse.

Might I ask for a photograph of Mr. John Straker?

You have done me a great service by recovering my horse. You would do me a greater still if you could lay your hands on the murderer of John Straker.

"You have done me a great service by recovering my horse. You would do me a greater still if you could lay your hands on the murderer of John Straker." "I have done so," said Holmes quietly.

John Straker was a man who was entirely unworthy of your confidence.

I at once concluded that Straker was leading a double life, and keeping a second establishment.