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There were several people on the pavement at the time, but the greeting appeared to come from a slim youth in an ulster who had hurried by.

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"I've heard that voice before," said Holmes, staring down the dimly lit street. "Now, I wonder who the deuce that could have been."

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I slept at Baker Street that night, and we were engaged upon our toast and coffee in the morning when the King of Bohemia rushed into the room.

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"You have really got it!" he cried, grasping Sherlock Holmes by either shoulder and looking eagerly into his face.

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"Not yet."

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"But you have hopes?"

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"I have hopes."

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"Then, come. I am all impatience to be gone."

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"We must have a cab."

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"No, my brougham is waiting.


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