“Ha！ this may save us a visit to Brixton Road，” whisperedHolmes. “Come with me， and we will see what is to be made ofthis fellow.” Striding through the scattered knots of people wholounged round the flaring stalls， my companion speedily overtookthe little man and touched him upon the shoulder. He spranground， and I could see in the gas-light that every vestige of colourhad been driven from his face.
“Who are you， then？ What do you want？” he asked in aquavering voice.
“You will excuse me，” said Holmes blandly， “but I could not helpoverhearing the questions which you put to the salesman just now.
I think that I could be of assistance to you.”
“You？ Who are you？ How could you know anything of thematter？”
“My name is Sherlock Holmes. It is my business to know whatother people don’t know.”
“But you can know nothing of this？”
“Excuse me， I know everything of it. You are endeavouring totrace some geese which were sold by Mrs. Oakshott， of BrixtonRoad， to a salesman named Breckinridge， by him in turn to Mr.
Windigate， of the Alpha， and by him to his club， of which Mr.
Henry Baker is a member.”
“Oh， sir， you are the very man whom I have longed to meet，”
cried the little fellow with outstretched hands and quiveringfingers. “I can hardly explain to you how interested I am in thismatter.”
Sherlock Holmes hailed a four-wheeler which was passing. “Inthat case we had better discuss it in a cosy room rather than inthis wind-swept market-place，” said he. “But pray tell me， beforewe go farther， who it is that I have the pleasure of assisting.”
The man hesitated for an instant. “My name is John Robinson，”
he answered with a sidelong glance.
“No， no； the real name，” said Holmes sweetly. “It is alwaysawkward doing business with an alias.”
A flush sprang to the white cheeks of the stranger. “Well then，”
said he， “my real name is James Ryder.”
“Precisely so. Head attendant at the Hotel Cosmopolitan. Praystep into the cab， and I shall soon be able to tell you everythingwhich you would wish to know.”
The little man stood glancing from one to the other of uswith half-frightened， half-hopeful eyes， as one who is not surewhether he is on the verge of a windfall or of a catastrophe. Thenhe stepped into the cab， and in half an hour we were back in thesitting-room at Baker Street. Nothing had been said during ourdrive， but the high， thin breathing of our new companion， andthe claspings and unclaspings of his hands， spoke of the nervoustension within him.
“Here we are！” said Holmes cheerily as we filed into the room.
“The fire looks very seasonable in this weather. You look cold， Mr.
Ryder. Pray take the basket-chair. I will just put on my slippersbefore we settle this little matter of yours. Now， then！ You want toknow what became of those geese？”
“Yes， sir.”
“Or rather， I fancy， of that goose. It was one bird， I imagine inwhich you were interested—white， with a black bar across the tail.”
Ryder quivered with emotion. “Oh， sir，” he cried， “can you tellme where it went to？”
“It came here.”
“Here？”
“Yes， and a most remarkable bird it proved. I don’t wonder thatyou should take an interest in it. It laid an egg after it was dead—the bonniest， brightest little blue egg that ever was seen. I have ithere in my museum.”
Our visitor staggered to his feet and clutched the mantelpiecewith his right hand. Holmes unlocked his strong-box and heldup the blue carbuncle， which shone out like a star， with a cold，brilliant， many-pointed radiance. Ryder stood glaring with a drawnface， uncertain whether to claim or to disown it.
“The game’s up， Ryder，” said Holmes quietly. “Hold up， man，or you’ll be into the fire！ Give him an arm back into his chair，Watson. He’s not got blood enough to go in for felony withimpunity. Give him a dash of brandy. So！ Now he looks a littlemore human. What a shrimp it is， to be sure！”
For a moment he had staggered and nearly fallen， but thebrandy brought a tinge of colour into his cheeks， and he sat staringwith frightened eyes at his accuser.
“I have almost every link in my hands， and all the proofs which Icould possibly need， so there is little which you need tell me. Still，that little may as well be cleared up to make the case complete.
You had heard， Ryder， of this blue stone of the Countess ofMorcar’s？”
“It was Catherine Cusack who told me of it，” said he in acrackling voice.
“I see—her ladyship’s waiting-maid. Well， the temptation ofsudden wealth so easily acquired was too much for you， as it hasbeen for better men before you； but you were not very scrupulousin the means you used. It seems to me， Ryder， that there is themaking of a very pretty villain in you. You knew that this manHorner， the plumber， had been concerned in some such matterbefore， and that suspicion would rest the more readily upon him.
What did you do， then？ You made some small job in my lady’sroom—you and your confederate Cusack—and you managed thathe should be the man sent for. Then， when he had left， you rifledthe jewel-case， raised the alarm， and had this unfortunate manarrested. You then——”
Ryder threw himself down suddenly upon the rug and clutchedat my companion’s knees. “For God’s sake， have mercy！” heshrieked. “Think of my father！ Of my mother！ It would break theirhearts. I never went wrong before！ I never will again. I swear it. I’llswear it on a Bible. Oh， don’t bring it into court！ For Christ’s sake，don’t！”
“Get back into your chair！” said Holmes sternly. “It is very wellto cringe and crawl now， but you thought little enough of this poorHorner in the dock for a crime of which he knew nothing.”
“I will fly， Mr. Holmes. I will leave the country， sir. Then thecharge against him will break down.”
“Hum！ We will talk about that. And now let us hear a trueaccount of the next act. How came the stone into the goose， andhow came the goose into the open market？ Tell us the truth， forthere lies your only hope of safety.”