"
Holmes sat up at attention, his pipe halfway to his lips.
"This must be serious, Watson. A death which has caused my
brother to alter his habits can be no ordinary one. What in the
world can he have to do with it? The case was featureless as I
remember it. The young man had apparently fallen out of the
train and killed himself. He had not been robbed, and there was
no particular reason to suspect violence. Is that not so?"
"There has been an inquest," said I, "and a good many fresh facts
have come out. Looked at more closely, I should certainly say
that it was a curious case."
"Judging by its effect upon my brother, I should think it must be
a most extraordinary one." He snuggled down in his armchair.
"Now, Watson, let us have the facts."
"The man's name was Arthur Cadogan West. He was twenty-seven
years of age, unmarried, and a clerk at Woolwich Arsenal."
"Government employ. Behold the link with Brother Mycroft!"
"He left Woolwich suddenly on Monday night. Was last seen by his
fiancee, Miss Violet Westbury, whom he left abruptly in the fog
about 7:30 that evening.
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