“There is nothing in that.  Many men do it when they are trying to learn anything by heart.”

“He looked at us in a queer way.”

“So would you, if a flock of strangers came in on you when you were preparing for an examination next day, and every moment was of value.  No, I see nothing in that.  Pencils, too, and knives—­all was satisfactory.  But that fellow does puzzle me.”

“Who?”

“Why, Bannister, the servant.  What’s his game in the matter?”

“He impressed me as being a perfectly honest man.”

“So he did me.  That’s the puzzling part.  Why should a perfectly honest man—­Well, well, here’s a large stationer’s.  We shall begin our researches here.”

There were only four stationers of any consequences in the town, and at each Holmes produced his pencil chips, and bid high for a duplicate.  All were agreed that one could be ordered, but that it was not a usual size of pencil and that it was seldom kept in stock.  My friend did not appear to be depressed by his failure, but shrugged his shoulders in half-humorous resignation.

“No good, my dear Watson.  This, the best and only final clue, has run to nothing.  But, indeed, I have little doubt that we can build up a sufficient case without it.  By Jove! my dear fellow, it is nearly nine, and the landlady babbled of green peas at seven-thirty.  What with your eternal tobacco, Watson, and your irregularity at meals, I expect that you will get notice to quit, and that I shall share your downfall—­not, however, before we have solved the problem of the nervous tutor, the careless servant, and the three enterprising students.”

Holmes made no further allusion to the matter that day, though he sat lost in thought for a long time after our belated dinner.  At eight in the morning, he came into my room just as I finished my toilet.

“Well, Watson,” said he, “it is time we went down to St. Luke’s.  Can you do without breakfast?”

“Certainly.”

“Soames will be in a dreadful fidget until we are able to tell him something positive.”

“Have you anything positive to tell him?”

“I think so.”

“You have formed a conclusion?”

“Yes, my dear Watson, I have solved the mystery.”

“But what fresh evidence could you have got?”

“Aha!  It is not for nothing that I have turned myself out of bed at the untimely hour of six.  I have put in two hours’ hard work and covered at least five miles, with something to show for it.  Look at that!”

He held out his hand.  On the palm were three little pyramids of black, doughy clay.

“Why, Holmes, you had only two yesterday.”

“And one more this morning.  It is a fair argument that wherever No. 3 came from is also the source of Nos. 1 and 2.  Eh, Watson?  Well, come along and put friend Soames out of his pain.”

The unfortunate tutor was certainly in a state of pitiable agitation when we found him in his chambers.  In a few hours the examination would commence, and he was still in the dilemma between making the facts public and allowing the culprit to compete for the valuable scholarship.  He could hardly stand still so great was his mental agitation, and he ran towards Holmes with two eager hands outstretched.