It was the third Monday of November 1893 when Mr Hollis, stationmaster at Earlsfield Halt on the Great Surrey line, came to us by an early train in a state of slow, careful unhappiness.
"Two shillings the week, Mr Holmes, missing from my strongbox these six months. I had not noticed at first; the takings were small, the discrepancy steady. I had thought it a long miscount of my own. But the auditor came down on Saturday and the deficit is fifty-two shillings."
His Halt was a small thing in a slow Surrey village, an hour out of Waterloo, and we took a hansom from the rank to the up-platform. From the four o'clock up-train alighted a thickset man in iron-grey, broad-shouldered, with a once-broken nose and scarred knuckles upon the gloved hand at the carriage-door; he walked off down the village road without looking back.
Mr Hollis showed us into the office above the booking-hall. The strongbox was upon a shelf behind his desk; the key was on a chain at his waistcoat; and the rooms above the booking-hall were his own - for himself, his wife, and a niece who lived with them.