“Why, my dear Watson,” said Mr Holmes promptly, “do you not remember that little oath you uttered under your breath when our flyman jogged us over an offensively large stone? The ejaculation inevitably suggested a big letter to you--the bigness of the letter a certain popular operetta--the operetta, a pinafore--a pinafore, overcoats in general. At that moment you glanced up; the coat our coachman was wearing had obviously been made for a smaller man, and the seam had parted at the back never to rejoin. I saw you observe it. The association of ideas was complete. The D.’s and the breach between them rushed into your mind at the very instant that we came to the door of this capital hostelry, and into the presence, if I mistake not” (he turned with a charming bow and smile), “of our respected telegraphic correspondents.” The formal greeting over, we conveyed our visitors into our private sitting-room, where the two detectives were awaiting us. Mr Holmes greeted the inspector with a “Ha, Jannaway!” and we promptly got to business. The great amateur was severely interested in the tale unfolded to him, though his companion, I could not but think, appeared somewhat bored by it. He yawned a good deal, and kept looking at his watch. I was not mentally as familiar with his figure as with the other’s, and, beyond the fact of his face being a mutton-chop-whiskered one, had no more than an idea of his general appearance. Still, I had not seemed to associate quite so much bulk with it. Doctor Watson, I fear, had grown rather fat and inert, and, in suggestion, not unlike a prosperous impresario. The story related and the letter examined, Mr Holmes sat in profound silence for a while. “I take it, then,” he said presently, “that the point of contention is the present whereabouts of Mr Dalston?” I was a little surprised, as that _was_ the point; and no other, in fact, had been raised. “I believe,” said Mr Holmes after further reflection, “that Mr Dalston went abroad, and that he wrote that letter _from_ abroad. That is not necessarily to conclude, however, that he is abroad at this moment. The farm, by your showing, offers itself a very potential retreat to one desirous, shall we say, of evading his social obligations. At the same time it does not appear to be rich in the material necessities of existence. It is at least conceivable that this man, rendered desperate by an enforced abstinence, may be caught sneaking from his well-chosen burrow there at night, in order to satisfy those insatiable appetites which his position renders him unable to indulge by day. Your criminal is notoriously a sensuous animal, and one the least capable of resisting the calls of his nature. Have you, may I ask, ever thought of putting a watch upon the place at night?” No, it appeared we had not. Our interlocutor smiled, shaking a long finger at Jannaway. “Inspector, inspector!” he murmured--“the old fundamental insufficiency!” Valombroso skipped with delight.