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half-insane through ceaselessly turning the riddle over and over in his mind – took to walking in the rain, hoping that by doing so he might obtain some flash of insight concerning how one could ‘pass through’ water – ‘untouched’.
    ‘And then,’ finished Holmes softly, ‘he was silenced – murdered.’
    ‘Silenced – why? And murdered how – and by who?’ I blurted, my thoughts racing from all I was hearing, so that I thought I might also be driven mad. It seemed absurd; yet at its simplest level, I thought I understood what Holmes was saying.
    ‘That, again, is something upon which I need to think further. I have also to realize what this last riddle refers to – and when I do, and speak of it, then we will both be in the gravest danger. We will have to work fast, and be on our utmost guard.’
    Incredible, after all Holmes had said, that he could then just bid me a simple goodnight. I knew he was lying there, eyes open and thoughts turning; but he said nothing more.
    He had to realize one more riddle – just this last one…
     
    8
     
    The Jushoku was absent from the service in the temple hall the following morning. I supposed he was still resting from this latest bout of ill-health caused by the mysterious deaths of two monks – and the desire these deaths had created in those other monks to flee this temple. I could hardly blame them. The priest had spoken of a ‘curse’ – well, that seemed as valid an explanation as any other right now.
    The only person who had a chance of discovering what had really caused those two young, and seemingly healthy monks to die was extremely quiet all that morning. By now, I knew when Holmes was deep in thought and so I tried to disturb him as little as was possible.
    Katamari looked at him curiously once or twice during the morning service, but he did not speak to us – far less make any mention of what had taken place the previous evening. He was waiting, I understood, for the famous English detective to inform him of what this latest riddle pertained to. For while the Jushoku was sick in bed (I had again offered my services, but apparently these were not needed), Katamari was in charge of this main temple of the Golden Path.  
    But would Holmes – a gaijin , after all! – be able to solve this riddle, set by Gyoja several hundred years before? There was a key – so clearly the successful interpreting of the riddle would lead to a locked door of some kind. Somewhere in the temple? Or someplace hidden outside?
    I thought back on the riddle, for I’d memorized the words, but it seemed entirely bereft of meaning. What had been written on the first two scrolls was almost simple in comparison. And I knew that Holmes had still not guessed its meaning – far from it. I could almost sense the frustration welling up inside of him as he turned those words over and over in his mind, although his expression remained customarily impassive.
    The day passed slowly, what with Holmes saying next to nothing and there being no one else to talk to. I even attended the afternoon service, as though seeking a little light relief. Finally there was dinner, and then we returned to our room to rest.
    Which was when, quite unexpectedly, Holmes said suddenly to me –
    ‘There is something on your mind, my good doctor.’
    It was a statement, not a question.
    ‘It doesn’t matter at the present time,’ I returned quietly. ‘It’s not important.’
    ‘What is it?’ asked Holmes.
    I shrugged, thought for a few moments, and then said –
    ‘I never knew you’d travelled to China, before coming to Japan.’
    Holmes gave a small smile of reminiscence, which monetarily displaced some of the mental exhaustion now beginning to show on his face. 
    ‘I was rather ‘out of sorts’, to provide a somewhat clumsy interpretation of a common English expression,’ he said softly. ‘My nerves were quite strained by a succession of cases in England, especially those concerning my