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"And another thousand pounds for the name of the kidnapper."

"Mr Sherlock Holmes," the Duke said angrily, "what is this about? Do you have news of my son, or not?"

"Very well," said the Duke tiredly. "Please, James…"

"The Duke can see no one today," he said to Holmes.

"Well, Mr Holmes?" he said.

Holmes looked at James Wilder. "I can speak more freely without your secretary here, sir."

James Wilder gave Holmes an angry look, but he went out of the room and shut the door.

After half an hour the Duke of Holdernesse came into the room. He looked older -- tired and ill.

Holmes looked at the Duke. "You are offering, I hear, five thousand pounds for news of your son."

My friend smiled. "I see your cheque book on the table, sir. I would like to have your cheque for six thousand pounds."

"True."

"True."

Holmes looked at him coldly. "The Duke can see me," he said. "Please tell him that I am here."

At eleven o'clock the next morning Holmes and I were in the Duke's office at Holdernesse Hall. Mr Wilder came to speak to us.

The Duke took out a pen, opened his cheque book, and began to write. "When I made this offer, I didn't know…" He stopped, then began again. "Are you and your friend going to talk about this, Mr Holmes?"

The Duke fell back in his chair.

"I don't understand you, sir," said Holmes.

"And the name of the kidnapper?"

"Only I and my friend here, Dr Watson."

The Duke stood up, his face white and angry. Then he sat down again, and put his face in his hands. It was some minutes before he spoke.

"How much do you know?" he asked.

"And how many people know about this?"

"Oh, yes,"said Holmes.

The Duke's eyes never left Holmes's face. "Where is my son?" he said quietly.

"I saw you with him last night," said Holmes.

"He is -- or was last night -- at the Green Man Inn, three kilometres along the road to Chesterfield."

"I mean… Nobody needs to know about this -- this little family mystery. Just you and your friend Watson. Look, here is my cheque for twelve thousand pounds."

Sherlock Holmes's answer was a very surprising one. "You," he said. "And now, sir, your cheque, please."

Holmes gave him a cold little smile. "I'm sorry, sir. There is a dead man in this case. You remember?"

"But that wasn't James!" cried the Duke. "He knew nothing about it. He was very, very unhappy when he heard about the -- the killing."

"Murder," said Holmes.

"But James wasn't there! And when he heard about it, he came to me at once, and told me everything. Oh, Mr Holmes, you must help him -- you must! He is not the murderer! The murderer ran away last night."

The Duke looked at Holmes with an open mouth. "You -- you know everything!" he said. "But I am pleased to hear about Hayes -- he was always a bad man. And that news can only help James."

"James? Your secretary?" said Holmes.

Holmes smiled again. "I have a little more news for you, sir. The police met Mr Reuben Hayes last night at Chesterfield station. Mr Hayes is not running anywhere for a very long time."

"No, sir. My son. James Wilder is my son."