“I thought so,” said he, “the revolver had an ejector, and here is the third cartridge.  I really think, Inspector Martin, that our case is almost complete.”

The country inspector’s face had shown his intense amazement at the rapid and masterful progress of Holmes’s investigation.  At first he had shown some disposition to assert his own position, but now he was overcome with admiration, and ready to follow without question wherever Holmes led.

“Whom do you suspect?” he asked.

“I’ll go into that later.  There are several points in this problem which I have not been able to explain to you yet.  Now that I have got so far, I had best proceed on my own lines, and then clear the whole matter up once and for all.”

“Just as you wish, Mr. Holmes, so long as we get our man.”

“I have no desire to make mysteries, but it is impossible at the moment of action to enter into long and complex explanations.  I have the threads of this affair all in my hand.  Even if this lady should never recover consciousness, we can still reconstruct the events of last night and insure that justice be done.  First of all, I wish to know whether there is any inn in this neighbourhood known as ’Elrige’s’?”

The servants were cross-questioned, but none of them had heard of such a place.  The stable-boy threw a light upon the matter by remembering that a farmer of that name lived some miles off, in the direction of East Ruston.

“Is it a lonely farm?”

“Very lonely, sir.”

“Perhaps they have not heard yet of all that happened here during the night?”

“Maybe not, sir.”

Holmes thought for a little, and then a curious smile played over his face.

“Saddle a horse, my lad,” said he.  “I shall wish you to take a note to Elrige’s Farm.”

He took from his pocket the various slips of the dancing men.  With these in front of him, he worked for some time at the study-table.  Finally he handed a note to the boy, with directions to put it into the hands of the person to whom it was addressed, and especially to answer no questions of any sort which might be put to him.  I saw the outside of the note, addressed in straggling, irregular characters, very unlike Holmes’s usual precise hand.  It was consigned to Mr. Abe Slaney, Elriges Farm, East Ruston, Norfolk.

“I think, Inspector,” Holmes remarked, “that you would do well to telegraph for an escort, as, if my calculations prove to be correct, you may have a particularly dangerous prisoner to convey to the county jail.  The boy who takes this note could no doubt forward your telegram.  If there is an afternoon train to town, Watson, I think we should do well to take it, as I have a chemical analysis of some interest to finish, and this investigation draws rapidly to a close.”