Time
was, sir, when I was butler to old Sir Jabez Gilchrist, this young
gentleman's father. When he was ruined I came to the college as
servant, but I never forgot my old employer because he was
down in the world. I watched his son all I could for the sake of
the old days. Well, sir, when I came into this room yesterday,
when the alarm was given, the very first thing I saw was Mr.
Gilchrist's tan gloves a-lying in that chair. I knew those gloves
well, and I understood their message. If Mr. Soames saw them,
the game was up. I flopped down into that chair, and nothing
would budge me until Mr. Soames went for you. Then out came
my poor young master, whom I had dandled on my knee, and
confessed it all to me. Wasn't it natural, sir, that I should save
him, and wasn't it natural also that I should try to speak to him
as his dead father would have done, and make him understand
that he could not profit by such a deed? Could you blame me,
sir?"
"No, indeed," said Holmes, heartily, springing to his feet.
"Well, Soames, I think we have cleared your little problem up,
and our breakfast awaits us at home.
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