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fallen asleep over my solitary card game. I rose to my feet, went to Lady Fairclough's bedside and assured myself that she was unharmed, and then placed myself at the door to her suite. In response to my demand that our visitor identify him¬self, a male voice announced simply, "Room service, guv'ner."
    My hand was on the doorknob, my other hand on the latch, when I remembered Holmes's warning at Baker Street to permit no one entry. Surely a hearty breakfast would be welcome; I could almost taste the kippers and the toast and jam that Mrs. Hudson would have served us, had we been still in our home. But Holmes had been emphatic. What to do? What to do?
    "We did not order breakfast." I spoke through the heavy oaken door.
    "Courtesy of the management, guv."
    Perhaps, I thought, I might admit a waiter bearing food. What harm could there be in that? I reached for the latch only to find my hand tugged away by another, that of Lady Fairclough. She had climbed from her bed and crossed the room, barefoot and clad only in her sleeping garment. She shook her head vigorously, drawing me away from the door, which remained latched against any entry. She pointed to me, pantomiming speech. Her message was clear.
    "Leave our breakfast in the hall," I instructed the waiter. "We shall fetch it in ourselves shortly. We are not ready as yet."
    "Can't do it, sir," the waiter insisted. "Please, sir, don't get me in trouble wif the management, guv'ner. I needs to roll my cart into your room and leave the tray. I'll get in trouble if I don't, guv'ner."
    I was nearly persuaded by his plea, but Lady Fairclough had placed herself between me and the door, her arms crossed and a determined expression on her face. Once again she indicated that I should send the waiter away.
    "I'm sorry, my man, but I must insist. Simply leave the tray outside our door. That is my final word."
    The waiter said nothing more, but I thought I could hear his reluctantly retreating footsteps.
    I retired to make my morning ablutions while Lady Fairclough dressed.
    Shortly thereafter, there was another rapping at the door. Fearing the worst, I drew my revolver. Perhaps this was more than a misdirected order for room service. "I told you to go away," I commanded.
    "Watson, old man, open up. It is I, Holmes."
    The voice was unmistakable; I felt as though a weight of a hundred stone had been lifted from my shoulders. I undid the door latch and stood aside as the best and wisest man I have ever known entered the apartment. I peered out into the hall after he had passed through the doorway. There was no sign of a service cart or breakfast tray.
    Holmes asked, "What are you looking for, Watson?"
    I explained the incident of the room service call.
    "You did well, Watson," he congratulated me. "You may be certain that was no waiter, nor was his mission one of service to Lady Fairclough and yourself. I have spent the night consulting my files and certain other sources with regard to the odd institution known as the Wisdom Temple of the Dark Heavens, and I can tell you that we are sailing dangerous waters indeed."
    He turned to Lady Fairclough. "You will please accompany Dr. Watson and myself to Merthyr Tydfil. We shall leave at once. There is a chance that we may yet save the life of your brother, but we have no time to waste."
    Without hesitation, Lady Fairclough strode to the wardrobe, pinned her hat to her hair, and donned the same warm coat she had worn when first I laid eyes on her, mere hours before.
    "But, Holmes," I protested, "Lady Fairclough and I have not broken our fast."
    "Never mind your stomach, Watson. There is no time to lose. We can purchase sandwiches from a vendor at the station."
    Almost sooner than I can tell, we were seated in a first class compartment heading westward toward Wales. As good as his word, Holmes had seen to it that we were nourished, and I for one felt the better for having downed even a light and informal meal.
    The storm had at last abated and a