"Now we must see if we can find this witness for you, Lestrade.
Might I ask you all to join in the cry of 'Fire!'? Now then; one,
two, three --"
"Fire!" we all yelled.
"Thank you. I will trouble you once again."
"Fire!"
"Just once more, gentlemen, and all together."
"Fire!" The shout must have rung over Norwood.
It had hardly died away when an amazing thing happened. A
door suddenly flew open out of what appeared to be solid wall at
the end of the corridor, and a little, wizened man darted out of it
like a rabbit out of its burrow.
"Capital!" said Holmes, calmly. "Watson, a bucket of water
over the straw. That will do! Lestrade, allow me to present you
with your principal missing witness, Mr. Jonas Oldacre."
The detective stared at the newcomer with blank amazement.
The latter was blinking in the bright light of the corridor, and
peering at us and at the smouldering fire. It was an odious
face -- crafty, vicious, malignant, with shifty, light-gray eyes and
white lashes.
"What's this, then?" said Lestrade, at last. "What have you
been doing all this time, eh?"
Oldacre gave an uneasy laugh, shrinking back from the furious
red face of the angry detective.
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