He was, indeed, a weird figure as
he turned his white mane and his glowing eyes towards us. The
eternal cigarette smouldered in his mouth. He had been dressed
and was seated in an armchair by the fire.
"Well, Mr. Holmes, have you solved this mystery yet?" He
shoved the large tin of cigarettes which stood on a table beside
him towards my companion. Holmes stretched out his hand at
the same moment, and between them they tipped the box over
the edge. For a minute or two we were all on our knees retriev-
ing stray cigarettes from impossible places. When we rose again,
I observed Holmes's eyes were shining and his cheeks tinged
with colour. Only at a crisis have I seen those battle-signals
flying .
"Yes," said he, "I have solved it."
Stanley Hopkins and I stared in amazement. Something like a
sneer quivered over the gaunt features of the old professor.
"Indeed! In the garden?"
"No, here."
"Here! When?"
"This instant."
"You are surely joking, Mr. Sherlock Holmes. You compel
me to tell you that this is too serious a matter to be treated in
such a fashion.
Pages:
394
395
396
397
398
399
400
401
402
403
404
405
406
407
408
409
410
411
412
413
414
415
416
417
418