“We have quite a little round of afternoon calls to make,” said he. “I think that Sir James Walter claims our first attention. ”
The house of the famous official was a fine villa with green lawns, stretching down to the Thames. As we reached it the fog was lifting, and a thin, watery sunshine was breaking through. A butler answered our ring.
“Sir James, sir!” said he with solemn face. “Sir James died this morning.”
“Good heavens!” cried Holmes in amazement. “How did he die?”
“Perhaps you would care to step in, sir, and see his brother, Colonel Valentine?”
“Yes, we had best do so.”
We were ushered into a dim-lit drawing-room, where an instant later we were joined by a very tall, handsome, light-bearded man of fifty, the younger brother of the dead scientist. His wild eyes, stained che
