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"There are signs of a line being tapped in here," I called down to Holmes. "Someone has been here within the last few days, from the lack of dust at the contact point. Shall we come back with a fingerprint kit?" I climbed down and returned to Holmes his belt. He looked dubiously at the bent buckle. "Perhaps a stronger climbing tether would be advised," I added.

"I think, if the weather holds, we will be able to catch the ringers themselves in action, if not tonight, then certainly tomorrow. Remind me to telephone our good hostess when we get back, to thank her and to enquire as to her husband's state of health."

The sun was low when we walked into the cottage, where the air was sweeter now than it had been at midday.

Holmes went off to the laboratory with the cigarette ends while I found the cold food Mrs. Hudson had left for us and made coffee. We ate hunched over microscopes, though our greasy fingerprints on the slides helped not at all. Finally, Holmes sat back.

"The cigarettes are from a small tobacconist in Portsmouth. I trust the police there could make a few enquiries for us. First, however, Mrs. Barker."

The telephone was answered by the lady herself. Holmes thanked her again for her hospitality, and I could tell by his subtle reaction to her words that she was not alone.

"Mrs. Barker, I wanted to thank your husband as well. Is he there? No? Oh, I am sorry to hear that, but you know, he didn't seem well this afternoon. Tell me, does your husband smoke cigarettes? No, I thought not. Oh, it's nothing. Mrs. Barker, listen to me. I believe your husband will be fine, do you understand? Just fine. Yes. Good night, Madam, and thank you again."

His eyes positively glowed as he hung up.

"It's tonight then, Holmes?"

"So it appears. Mr. Barker has retreated to his room, to the gentle ministrations of his manservant. Why don't you have a rest, Russell? I will make a telephone call to the people in charge of this sort of thing, but I am certain we have at least two hours before anything will happen."

I did as he suggested, and despite my excitement I drifted off to the mutter of his voice in the next room. I was awakened some time later by wheels in the drive and came down to find Holmes in the sitting room with two men.

"Good, Russell, get yourself ready. Your warmest coat, now, we may be some time. Russell, this is Mr. Jones and Mr. Smith, who have come from London for our little affair. Gentlemen, Miss Russell, my right hand. Shall we go?" Holmes shouldered a small knapsack and shoved his cloth cap on his head, and we crunched off down the drive.

The manor house was three miles away by road, and we walked silently along the grass verge. Where the trees came up we left the road, following the woods down to the base of the main gardens. There we stood together and whispered quietly. A slight breeze had come up, covering our noises and carrying our scent away from the noses of the pack that inhabited the house.

"We can see the top of the tower from here, I believe. Your colleagues should be in place by now at the hill gap and the sea?"

"Yes, Mr. Holmes. We agreed to be settled in by eleven o'clock. It's ten past now. We're ready."

The lights went off one by one in the house above us, and we entered that particular state of boredom and excitement that accompanies a long wait. And long it was. At one o'clock I bent to whisper in Holmes' ear.

"Surely it was not so late when Mrs. Barker saw the lights from the garden? Perhaps it will not be tonight."

Holmes sat silent and unseen beside me, tense with thought.

"Russell, do your eyes pick up anything from that tower?"

I looked so hard at the black tower rising against the black night that my eyes began to quiver. I looked away slightly, and my eyes caught the faintest of changes in the air above the darkness. I let out a soft exclamation, and Holmes was up at once.

"Quick, Russell, up in the tree. Here we sit, blind as moles, while he's so far back from the edge we can't see him. Up, Russell. What do you see?"

As I climbed in the dark I watched the tower, and fifteen feet up the beam suddenly appeared — an intermittent flash from the back corner of the folly, pointing over our heads at the low hills and the sea beyond.

"It's there!" I scrambled down the branches, losing flesh. "He's up there with a light — " but they were already off up the hill, their hand torches waving wildly in the darkness. I went after them, plunging across flower beds and around a fountain, and suddenly ahead of me the night exploded. Seventeen throats opened at the invaders, yaps and bays and blood-chilling snarls split the air, and the shouts of men, and then a tinkle of glass. I heard Holmes shouting to his companions, dogs began to yelp and howl, two voices coughed and cursed, a larger breakage of glass, and the sound of a door flung open. Electrical lights began to go on in the house, and I could see dogs fleeing in every direction. The first whiff of stink made me hold my breath until I got inside the door. Inside was all lights now, the main kitchen switches all on, the tower next to me blazing with light. I ran in that direction, hearing heavy feet above me on the stairs. They and the voices faded suddenly, and I pictured them on the roof.

A sudden thought occurred to me. There had been a good twenty seconds between the first alarm of the dogs and the time Holmes hit the steps. What if — 1 On the first-floor landing I ducked silently under the open stairway and waited, just in case. Suddenly a noise came from above, hushed, silent footsteps, hurrying down. I put my hand ready between the treads, caught sight of an unfamiliar shoe, and, praying it did not belong to Smith, Jones, or Barker, grabbed at it. A scream and a crashing fall that continued down the next flight of stairs were followed by shouts and steps from above. I unfolded myself slowly from my hiding place and went to see what I had done.

I stood at the top of the flight, looking down at the crumpled figure of Terrence Howell and feeling my stomach wanting to rise up our of my throat. Then Holmes stood beside me, and I turned to him, and his arm wentaround my shoulders as the two men pushed past us. I was shaking.

"Oh God, Holmes, I killed him. I didn't think he'd fall that hard, oh God, how could I have done it?" I could feel the texture of the shoe leather impressed on my fingertips and see the tumble of limbs glimpsed through the steps. A voice came up to us.

"Ring for a doctor, would you please, Mrs. Barker? He's got a bad bang on his head and a few broken bones, but he's alive."

Sweet, sweet relief flooded in, and my head suddenly felt light.

"I need to sit down for a minute, Holmes."

He pushed me onto the top step and shoved my head down to my knees. His rucksack plopped down next to me, and I vaguely saw him pull a little bottle out of it. There was the pop of a small cork, and the concentrated reek of the morning's experiment exploded into my nasal passages. I jerked back, and my head smacked hard onto the stone wall. Tears came to my eyes and my vision swam. When it cleared I saw Holmes, a stricken expression on his face.

"Are you all right, Russell?"

I felt my head delicately.

"Yes, no thanks to your smelling salts, Holmes. I can't see much point in reviving someone quite so dramatically, though it does make a fine weapon against a pack of dogs." Relief edged into his eyes, and his normal sardonic expression reappeared.

"When you're up to it, Russell, we should see to Mr. Barker."

I reached for his hand and pulled myself up, and we walked slowly up to the old man's room. A fug of sweat and illness met us at his door, and the light revealed the pale, wet skin and unfocussed eyes of high fever.

"You sponge his face for a bit, Russell, until Mrs.

Barker comes. I'm going to see what I can find in Howell's room. Ah, there you are, Mrs. Barker. Your husband needs you. Come, Russell." He swept past her anxious questions.