I lowered the colonel quietly to the floor, my legs bracing with the weight as best as possible to maintain a shaky equilibrium. Holmes rushed to hold the head steady and upward to prevent choking. To protect broken bones, I did my best to straighten the colonel's legs as they made contact with the hard floor. Once prone, the colonel had his head braced by a nearby cushion absconded from the settee, and I knelt on one knee next to the ragdoll form. Holmes hurried to the sidebar to pour a glass of brandy.

As the colonel slowly regained consciousness, he fitfully spoke in nonsense syllables while I took the glass and placed droplets over the lips. Holmes stood by expectedly, watching the proceedings with a curious focus.

However, after the colonel began to regain his senses and looked around instinctively to find his bearings, I did not expect the wild- eyed reaction when I approached him about those mumbled words. He abruptly got to his feet, with a flush in his cheeks and a shaky hand planted on my friend's arm, and if ever I entertained a doubt about Warburton's sanity, I must confess this situation provided a condemning argument. The colonel, instead of the compliant reaction for which we had hoped, flailed wildly about with his arms and insisted that we take our leave immediately. He refused explanation or solace.

As we reluctantly agreed to comply to the abrupt demand, out of shock more than any other reason, the colonel turned and defiantly hobbled away with his cane to a bedroom, still cursing under his breath, and shook the rafters with a slam.

I was completely perplexed as we quietly walked down the stairs to the front door and asked Holmes why the question about a senseless word would elicit such a violent reaction.

Holmes said, "It was not nonsense, Watson. He said "Bibi-Ghar.' And I expected as much. In his half-conscious state, he did not mean to reveal it."

There was something in the back of my mind which gnawed at me about that word, familiar yet not. As I was trying to place it, Holmes stopped as we reached the hall and closed the front door behind us. He suddenly halted on the porch, turned and began to examine the doorframe with an exactness which I have come to know all too well.

"Watson," he said, not taking his eyes from the door, "what do you make of our unusual colonel?"

"I would say 'unusual' describes him well."

"Would you consider him a madman?"

"In view of the events I have witnessed just now, there is no choice than to agree."

Holmes turned briefly toward me and then back to the object of his attentions. "No, Watson, this is not a man of madness. This is rather a sane but very desperate individual."

I was astonished. "Whatever do you mean, Holmes," I said.

"Really, Watson! Did you not see the rifles -- not one but two -- tucked firmly away by the side of the door? And the unusually-large lock? It was newly installed. The screws were shiny and new, Watson." I watched as he stepped closer to the door. "And there is something else.." He bent down close to the stoop. "I trust you detect an odd smell about this area."

I suddenly noticed the curious odor that was not unlike a strong soap. I put my nose closer to the frame. Strange how the scent escaped me until he mentioned it.

He continued,looking up at me from his crouched position. "A strong cleaner was used to remove all traces of something quite singular from here."

He suddenly uncoiled and stood up in triumph, displaying a long splinter of wood, marked with a dark discoloration at one end. "If I am not mistaken, Watson, this is blood!"

I registered surprise but he was quick to add: "You must not be alarmed, Watson, for it is not human blood. There is a bit of fur clinging to this piece of wood." He looked me full in the face. "Is it not curious that the dog did not greet us as we entered the residence?"

Go to Part Seven