For a moment I was unable to answer. The boldness and originality of
this master-mind had as usual taken my breath away. HOLES observed my
emotion with sympathy.
"Come, come, my dear fellow!" he said; "try not to be too much
overcome. Of course, I know it is not everybody who could track the
mazes of a mystery so promptly; but, after all, by this time you of
all people in the world ought to have grown accustomed to my ways.
However, we must not linger here any longer. It is time for us to
restore Lady HILDA to her parents."
As HOLES uttered these words a remarkable thing happened. Round the
corner of the crag on which we were standing came a little native
Bokharan telegraph boy. He approached HOLES, salaamed deferentially,
and handed him a telegram. HOLES opened it, and read it without moving
a muscle, and then handed it to me. This is what I read:--
"_To HOLES, Bokhara._
"_HILDA returned five minutes after you left. Her watch
had stopped. Deeply grateful to you for all your trouble.
SASSAFRAS._"
There was a moment's silence, broken by HOLES.
"No," he said, "we must not blame the Lady HILDA for being at
Sassafras Court and not in Bokhara. After all, she is young and
necessarily thoughtless."
"Still, HOLES," I retorted, with some natural indignation, "I cannot
understand how, after your convincing induction, a girl of any
delicacy of feeling can have remained away from Bokhara."
"I knew she would do so," said my friend, calmly.
"HOLES, you are more wonderful than ever," was all that I could
murmur. So that is the true story of Lady HILDA CARDAMUMS' return to
her family.
* * * * *