The guests were speechless. Colonel BAGNET was blue with suppressed rage. [Illustration: "How now, Sirrah?" he replied; "how dare you insinuate that----"] "How now, Sirrah?" he replied; "how dare you insinuate that----" "Tush, Colonel BAGNET," said my wonderful friend, pointing to the furious warrior's mess-waistcoat; "it is impossible to deceive me. That stain of mint-sauce extending across your chest can be explained only on the hypothesis that you wear underclothing manufactured from lamb. That," he continued, smiling coldly at me, "must be obvious to the meanest capacity." For once in his life the Colonel had no retort handy. "I am at your orders," he said, shortly. "The man who can prove that I wear lamb's-wool when I am actually wearing silk is the man for my money." In another moment HOLES had organised the pursuit. "It would be as well," he remarked, "to have an accurate description of the animal we are in search of. He was----" Here the impatient Colonel interrupted. "A brindled bull, very deep in the chest, with two kinks in his tail; has lost one of his front teeth, and snores violently." "Quite right," said HOLES; "the description tallies." "But, HOLES," I ventured to say, "this is most extraordinary. You, who have never been in Cambridge before, know all the details of the dog. It is wonderful." HOLES waved me off with as near an approach to impatience as I have ever seen him exhibit. Having done this, he once more addressed the Colonel. "Your best plan," he said, "will be to scour the King's Parade. You will not find him there. Next you must visit the Esquire BEDELL, and thoroughly search his palace from basement to attic. The dog will not be there, but the search will give you several valuable clues. You will then proceed to the University Library, and in the fifth gallery, devoted to Chinese manuscripts, you will find----" As HOLES uttered these words the mathematical moderator again entered. "Sir," he said to the Colonel, "it was all a mistake. The dog is quite safe. He has never been out of his kennel." "That," said HOLES, "is exactly what I was coming to. In the fifth gallery, devoted to Chinese manuscripts, you will find no readers. Hurrying on thence, and guiding your steps by the all-pervasive odour of meat-fibrine biscuits, you will eventually arrive at the kennel, and find the dog." "Zounds! Mr. HOLES," said the admiring Colonel, in the midst of the laugh that followed on HOLES'S last words, "you are an astounding fellow." And that is why, at the last Cambridge Commencement, the degree of LL.D. honoris causâ was conferred on PICKLOCK HOLES, together with a Fellowship at St. Baldred's, worth £800 a year. But my friend is modesty itself. "It is not," he said, "the honorary degree that I value half so much as the consciousness that I did my duty, and helped a Colonel in the hour of his need." And with these simple words Dr. PICKLOCK HOLES dismissed one of his finest achievements.