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Such are the true facts of the death of Dr. Grimesby Roylott, of

Stoke Moran. It is not necessary that I should prolong a

narrative which has already run to too great a length by telling

how we broke the sad news to the terrified girl, how we conveyed

her by the morning train to the care of her good aunt at Harrow,

of how the slow process of official inquiry came to the

conclusion that the doctor met his fate while indiscreetly

playing with a dangerous pet. The little which I had yet to learn

of the case was told me by Sherlock Holmes as we travelled back

next day.