“By Jove!” he cried. “You don’t mean that Baynes has got him?”

“Apparently,” said I as I read the following report:

“Great excitement was caused in Esher and the neighbouring district when it was learned late last night that an

arrest had been effected in connection with the Oxshott

murder. It will be remembered that Mr. Garcia, of Wisteria Lodge, was found dead on Oxshott Common, his body

showing signs of extreme violence, and that on the same

night his servant and his cook fled, which appeared to show

their participation in the crime. It was suggested, but never

proved, that the deceased gentleman may have had valuables in the house, and that their abstraction was the motive

of the crime. Every effort was made by Inspector Baynes,

who has the case in hand, to ascertain the hiding place of

the fugitives, and he had good reason to believe that they

had not gone far but were lurking in some retreat which had

been already prepared. It was certain from the first, however, that they would eventually be detected, as the cook,

from the evidence of one or two tradespeople who have

caught a glimpse of him through the window, was a man of

most remarkable appearance — being a huge and hideous

mulatto, with yellowish features of a pronounced negroid

type. This man has been seen since the crime, for he was

detected and pursued by Constable Walters on the same

evening, when he had the audacity to revisit Wisteria Lodge.

Inspector Baynes, considering that such a visit must have

some purpose in view and was likely, therefore, to be

repeated, abandoned the house but left an ambuscade in the

shrubbery. The man walked into the trap and was captured

last night after a struggle in which Constable Downing was

badly bitten by the savage. We understand that when the

prisoner is brought before the magistrates a remand will be

applied for by the police, and that great developments are

hoped from his capture.”

“Really we must see Baynes at once,” cried Holmes, picking up his hat. “We will just catch him before he starts.” We hurried down the village street and found, as we had expected, that the inspector was just leaving his lodgings.

“You’ve seen the paper, Mr. Holmes?” he asked, holding one out to us.

“Yes, Baynes, I’ve seen it. Pray don’t think it a liberty if I give you a word of friendly warning.”

“Of warning, Mr. Holmes?”

“I have looked into this case with some care, and I am not convinced that you are on the right lines. I don’t want you to commit yourself too far unless you are sure.”

“You’re very kind, Mr. Holmes.”

“I assure you I speak for your good.”

It seemed to me that something like a wink quivered for an instant over one of Mr. Baynes’s tiny eyes.

“We agreed to work on our own lines, Mr. Holmes. That’s what I am doing.”