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"The shilling?" I cried in rapture.

Yes," said little Miss Phyllis, " on the shilling. And he saw me home."


Details, please," said I.

Little Miss Phyllis shook her head.

"And left me at the door.

"Was it still foggy?

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I asked.

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Yes. Or he wouldn't have

66 Now what did he ? ""

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"Come to the door, Mr. Carter," said Miss Phyllis, with obvious wariness. Oh, it was such fun!'

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No, I mean when we were examined in the lectures. I bought the local paper, you know, and read it up, and I got top marks easily, and Miss Green wrote to mother to say how well I had done."

"It all ends most satisfactorily," I observed.

"Yes, didn't it?" said little Miss Phyllis.

Mrs. Hilary was grave again.

"And you never told your mother, Phyllis!" she asked.

N-no, Cousin Mary," said Miss Phyllis.

I rose and stood with my back to the fire. Little Miss Phyllis took up her sock again, but a smile still played about the corners of her mouth.

"I wonder," said I, looking up at the ceiling, "what happened at the door." Then, as no one spoke, I


"Pooh! I know what happened at the door."

"I'm not going to tell you anything more," said Miss Phyllis.

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But I should like to hear it in your own

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Miss Phyllis was gone! She had suddenly risen and run from the room.

"It did happen at the door," said I.


Fancy Phyllis! "mused Mrs. Hilary.

"I hope," said I," that it will be a lesson to you." "I shall have to keep my eye on her," said Mrs. Hilary.

"You can't do it," said I, in easy confidence. I had no fear of little Miss Phyllis being done out of her recreations." Meanwhile," I pursued, "the important thing is this: my parallel is obvious and complete.'

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There's not the least likeness," said Mrs. Hilary, sharply.


"As a hundred pounds are to a shilling, so is the Grand Prix to the young man opposite," I observed, taking my hat, and holding out my hand to Mrs. Hilary. "I am very angry with you," she said. You've made the child think there was nothing wrong in it. "Oh! nonsense," said I. "Look how she enjoyed telling it."

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Then, not heeding Mrs. Hilary, I launched into an apostrophe.


"O Divine House Opposite!" I cried. " Charming House Opposite! What is a man's own dull uneventful home compared with that Glorious House Opposite! If only I might dwell forever in the House Opposite!

"I haven't the least notion what you mean," remarked Mrs. Hilary, stiffly. "I suppose it's something silly

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"Have you no longing for the House Opposite?" I asked.

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Mrs. Hilary looked at me. Her eyes ceased to be absolutely blank. She put her arm through Hilary's and answered gently:

"I don't want the House Opposite.'

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Ah," said I, giving my hat a brush, "but maybe you remember the House when it was Opposite?" Mrs. Hilary, one arm still in Hilary's gave me her hand.

She blushed and smiled.


Well," said she, "it was your fault: so I won't scold Phyllis."


No, don't, my dear," said Hilary, with a laugh.

As for me, I went down-stairs, and, in absence of mind, bade my cabman drive to the House Opposite. But I have never got there.


This is a story in the light, airy vein of The Dolly Dialogues and yet one characterized by a meaning, a theme, which makes it well worth while.


By A. Conan Doyle


Sir Arthur Conan Doyle (1859- ) is a Scotch physician, born in Edinburgh. He was educated in Edinburgh University both in the arts and in medicine. His university also gave him the honorary degree of Doctor of Laws. He was knighted in 1902. He began active life as a practicing physician, but after a few years devoted much of his time to writing fiction. His travels have been extensive and his interest in public affairs wide. The Boer War drew him to South Africa.

Dr. Doyle began his literary work in 1887 with the publication of A Study in Scarlet. His reputation as a literary man is largely due, however, to the application of literary methods to the detective story in the Adventures of Sherlock Holmes (1891). A second volume, The Memoirs of Sherlock Holmes, followed in 1893. Of his thirty or more novels, collections of stories, and plays a few of the best known are: Micah Clarke (1888), The Sign of the Four (1889), The White Company (1890), Uncle Bernac (1897), The Hound of the Baskervilles (1902), and The Return of Sherlock Holmes (1904). The Adventure of the Speckled Band, which follows, is one of the stories from the last named volume.

In glancing over my notes of the seventy-odd cases in which I have, during the last eight years, studied the methods of my friend Sherlock Holmes, I find many tragic, some comic, a large number merely strange, but none commonplace; for, working as he did rather for the love of his art than for the acquirement of wealth, he refused to associate himself with any investigation which

* Copyrighted. Reprinted by permission of the author.

did not tend toward the unusual, and even the fantastic. Of all these varied cases, however, I cannot recall any which presented more singular features than that which was associated with the well-known Surrey family of the Roylotts of Stoke Moran. The events in question occurred in the early days of my association with Holmes, when we were sharing rooms as bachelors in Baker Street. It is possible that I might have placed them upon record before, but a promise of secrecy was made at the time, from which I have only been freed during the last month by the untimely death of the lady to whom the pledge was given. It is perhaps as well that the facts should now come to light, for I have reasons to know that there are wide-spread rumors as to the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott which tend to make the matter even more terrible than the truth.

It was early in April in the year '83 that I woke one morning to find Sherlock Holmes standing, fully dressed, by the side of my bed. He was a late riser as a rule, and as the clock on the mantel-piece showed me that it was only a quarter past seven, I blinked up at him in some surprise, and perhaps just a little resentment, for I was myself regular in my habits.

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Very sorry to knock you up, Watson," said he, "but it's the common lot this morning. Mrs. Hudson has been knocked up; she retorted upon me; and I on you."

"What is it, then


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No; a client. It seems that a young lady has arrived in a considerable state of excitement, who insists upon seeing me. She is waiting now in the sitting-room. Now, when young ladies wander about the metropolis at this

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