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As the gleam of the street-lamps flashed upon his
austere features, I saw that his brows were drawn down in
thought and his thin lips compressed. I knew not what wild beast
we were about to hunt down in the dark jungle of criminal
London, but I was well assured, from the bearing of this master
huntsman, that the adventure was a most grave one -- while the
sardonic smile which occasionally broke through his ascetic
gloom boded little good for the object of our quest.
I had imagined that we were bound for Baker Street, but
Holmes stopped the cab at the corner of Cavendish Square. I
observed that as he stepped out he gave a most searching glance
to right and left, and at every subsequent street corner he took
the utmost pains to assure that he was not followed. Our route
was certainly a singular one. Holmes's knowledge of the byways
of London was extraordinary, and on this occasion he passed
rapidly and with an assured step through a network of mews and
stables, the very existence of which I had never known. We
emerged at last into a small road, lined with old, gloomy houses.


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